"Everything is as it should be."

                                                                                  - Benjamin Purcell Morris

 

 

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KISS - Staples Center: A Review

KISS - STAPLES CENTER - MARCH 4, 2020

On Wednesday March 4th, 2020, I risked life, limb and soul as I ventured out to the Staples Center despite a potential Coronavirus outbreak, in order to see Knights in Satan’s Service…aka KISS.

Kiss, those old 70’s rock warhorses, which boast the current configuration of Gene Simmons (bass, vocals), Paul Stanley (lead vocals guitar), Tommy Thayer (lead guitar) and Eric Singer (drums, vocals), are on their supposedly “final” tour titled The End of the Road World Tour. For a variety of reasons, included among them that I have never seen Kiss live, I decided to indulge in some rock and roll nostalgia and check them out.

I am not what you would call a “Kiss fan”. When I was a little kid Kiss were definitely a thing and back then in an attempt to be cool I did indeed buy my first and last Kiss album, Kiss Alive, but despite my best attempts coolness has eluded my whole life…as has Kiss fandom.

Unlike other kids I was never a member of the Kiss Army and didn’t have Kiss memorabilia or action figures or anything. In fact, my childhood interaction with Kiss was so short-lived that I don’t think I could name more than a handful of their songs even today.

I never even considered seeing Kiss until last year at a Waterboys show, the keyboardist, Brother Paul, mentioned he was a huge Kiss fan and everybody in the alternative friendly crowd mockingly laughed. Being the contrarian I am, this put the bug in my brain to maybe go see Kiss.

When I saw that Kiss were coming to the Staples Center I looked at ticket prices and they were a bit pricey for me so I lost interest. Then a few months later I looked again and sure enough prices had dropped and I found a solid deal for a very good seat. I was still hesitant to pull the trigger though…but when I saw that the opening act was going to be none other than Diamond David Lee Roth…and I knew I had to attend.

Let me explain…when I was a kid I wanted to be David Lee Roth when I grew up. Dave was fronting Van Halen at the time and was the epitome of the dangerous rock and roll star, chicks dug him and dudes wanted to be him. I loved Dave so much I used to wear jock straps on the outside of my spandex pants (when I wasn’t wearing assless chaps) and would do flying split kicks off of any elevated platform I could find.

When I grew a bit older, my Dave fandom morphed as my best friend, the inimitable Keith Hertell, and I would drink copious amounts of Jack Daniels and he would bust out his guitar and keyboards and we would have an impromptu Van Halen inspired jam session. To be clear, our jam sessions, and my fandom, were only attached to Van Halen, never to the abomination that was Van Hagar.

Besides being the Eddie Van Halen to my Diamond Dave, Keith was also a highly decorated member of the Kiss Army from his early childhood. Kiss was Keith’s first love and the band were indelibly imprinted upon his brain at a young age. If rock and roll is religion, then Keith’s denomination was most definitely Kiss.

Keith Hertell was an extraordinary human being in every respect. He was an actor (infinitely more talented than I could ever hope to be), musician and comedian of astounding natural ability…and most importantly he was one of the most kindhearted and funniest people you could ever hope to meet. When I first encountered Keith it was at an audition for a comedy troupe of which he was already a member. We improvised a scene together and became fast friends. We worked in that comedy troupe for a few years and then ventured out into the “real world” as best friends and creative partners who would write and perform together.

Even though Keith enjoyed partying, to his undying credit he remained a steadfast friend and support to me when I went through some very serious substance abuse issues and got sober. In order to commit to my sobriety i had to jettison some long time friends from my life…but not Keith, who remained a constant and crucial part of my existence.

Tragically, in April of 1997 Keith was killed in a horrific crash in Titusville, Florida when the vehicle he was riding in was hit head-on, in broad daylight, by a driver driving on the wrong side of the road. At the time of his death, Keith and I we were working together at a soul-sucking office job to make ends meet. He took a few days off and went away for a weekend to attend a wedding. He returned in a casket.

To the people that loved him, Keith’s sudden death was a life-altering trauma. We were like the dinosaurs and his death was the meteor hitting the earth that blotted out our sun. We all barely survived the impact, but with the warmth of the sun removed from our sky we were doomed from that day forward to monotonously walk our cold and dying earth in perpetual darkness until our own inevitable demise. My own grief over Keith’s death has been like an iron cross I’ve carried for the last 23 years, and has, on many occasions, weighed me down nearly to the point of suffocation.

Which brings me back to Kiss and David Lee Roth. When I saw that Diamond Dave was opening for Kiss on their supposedly final tour, it felt like a sign from the gods of rock and roll. I simply knew I had to go to the show as an homage to my dear friend, creative collaborator and faithful Kiss Army member, Keith Hertell. So that is exactly what I did.

Thankfully I was able to snatch up a very good seat, in a VIP section no less, for the very affordable price of $55, and found a very easy and cheap public transportation option to get me there too…so off I went.

I have been to the Staples Center before for basketball games and fights, but never for a concert. As I walked toward the entrance of the arena, among the ticket holders and various t-shirt and food vendors, there was a very crazy sweaty man, probably homeless, frantically walking in a wide circle singing Van Halen’s “You Really Got Me” at the top of his lungs. I thought of Keith and I and our drunken rock and roll ramblings of yesteryear and chuckled as concert goers gave a wide berth to this crazy man who seemed completely detached from reality.

Which brings us to David Lee Roth. Diamond Dave took the stage at exactly 7:29 pm when his band kicked into…you guessed it…“You Really Got Me” and it felt like deja-vu all over again from the lunatic outside the arena.

I have seen Dave perform solo a handful of times and with Van Halen once. He used to be really good. His voice was never great, but unique and entertaining, and he was a commanding stage presence and consummate showman. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Roth’s charisma and front man prowess have eroded to a stunning degree as he is now reduced to mugging and clowning for the crowd with an impenetrable smile implanted on his face. For the majority of the set Diamond Dave seemed like an old lady wandering around a parking lot looking for a cardboard box to live in.

There seems to be something genuinely wrong with Dave at this point. The implanted perma-smile, and the slapping himself in the face - which he did multiple times, are bizarre to the point of alarming. On the bright side, at least the tight 40 minute set was devoid of his usual signature ramblings and rants.

As for the music, Dave’s backing band is terrific, but Dave feels like a vagrant loitering in their set as opposed to being the main attraction. Roth barely even pretends to sing anymore but instead lets his backing band cover most of those duties. When he does attempt to sing it is a train wreck. His phrasing is atrocious, breath control non-existent and he actually sounds like he is tone deaf. He also appears to be trying to transition from being a natural baritone to being a very unnatural tenor, a Herculean undertaking even under the best circumstances, but as a 65 year old man-child, impossibly delusional.

Roth’s vocal impotence was only heightened exactly 35 minutes after he left the stage when 68 year old Kiss front man Paul Stanley arrived on the scene showing off his still impressively powerful voice. Even Stanley’s speaking voice is stronger and clearer than Roth’s singing voice at this point.

Kiss hit the stage at exactly 8:45 and proceeded to absolutely destroy the Staples Center with the most glorious rock spectacle imaginable. Their two hour and ten minute set was jam packed with a cavalcade of rock and roll accoutrements like glitter, balloons, flame, explosions, rising stages, guitars shooting fireballs, lasers, fiery pinwheels, spitting blood and fire, rotating cranes and Paul Stanley flying across the tops of the audience…as well as a cornucopia of guitar, drum and bass solos.

This is such a rock show it is almost a parody of a rock show…almost. The musicianship of the band and the hard earned professionalism of Simmons and Stanley overcome the band’s catalogue of often-times middling songs and keep the festivities from ever devolving into self-satire.

Kiss put on an undeniably magnificent show that was…dare I say it…contagiously fun. There are definitely times when Kiss veers towards Spinal Tap territory, but musically they are so good and vocally so impressive that they get away with it. It also helps that the band is both entirely committed to what they are doing and take the music totally seriously, but never quite take themselves too seriously.

Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley are the two founding members still left in the band, and they are definitely running the show.

When Simmons dons his Kiss outfit and make up he stops being the sort-of-ridiculous 70 year-old man that he is, and becomes this…thing….this creature…this archetype. In his full Kiss regalia, Simmons oozes a startling power and charisma that dominates the stage. Simmons transformation is remarkable, and his stage presence, his natural dance movements and his singing voice left me stunned.

Paul Stanley also embodies an archetype when he gets his Kiss gear on, that of some kind of New York devil clown. Stanley has kept himself and his voice in great shape and he takes full advantage of both as he struts and dances across the stage and belts out tunes with aplomb.

Both Simmons and Stanley have been doing this for over forty years and it shows. Stanley immediately connects with the wider audience and effortlessly lures them into the palm of his hand, while Simmons must have pointed to, smiled at, or spoken with nearly every person in the crowd during the performance. Both of them boast a rogueish charm that makes every member of the audience feel as if they are part of the show and friends with the band. It is impressive to behold.

What I found fascinating about Kiss was the psychology on display. The make up they wear is like a mask in Greek Theatre. These masks allow them to play characters that tap into archetypes and unleash a power that they do not possess as regular people.

There is a sequence in which Simmons does a bass solo that segues into the song “God of Thunder”, where Gene is acting this role to perfection. Simmons is expertly doing a mask acting exercise in this sequence, a sort of Kabuki transformation, where he never speaks but mimes his beast like character’s intentions. It is gloriously entertaining and the crowd goes crazy for it.

The makeup is also a brilliant device because it keeps the band relatively young and allows the audience to maintain a certain level of suspension of disbelief. The makeup means the band looks just like they did in the 70’s…making Kiss the ultimate rock and roll avatar for being forever young. It is easier to accept Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley behaving the way they do on stage when you aren’t reminded that they are old enough to collect social security.

The distinctive makeup and the creation of these archetypal alter-egos also gives the possibility that the band Kiss…and the brand Kiss, can live on after the founding members retire or die. The makeup and the band are a brand like a sports team, at some point you aren’t rooting for the individual players but rather just rooting for the laundry.

A perfect example of this was that on my way home from the show while riding on the Metro, I heard two strangers talking about the concert. One guy, who was middle-aged and had seen Kiss many times and was obviously a big fan, thought that the entire original band, including former members Ace Frehley and Peter Criss, had played the show that night. Frehley and Criss haven’t performed with Kiss for years, but you wouldn’t know that by seeing a show because replacements Tommy Thayer and Eric Singer wear the same makeup and outfis that Frehley and Criss once did.

This notion struck me as well during the show when I was so impressed by the band’s vocals, and Simmons and Stanley’s vocals in particular, that I wondered if they had ever used “body doubles” to perform for them. I mean, how would anybody really know? So, say if Gene Simmons retires and someone else steps in…people might not even notice at first.

As for the actual members of Kiss…these guys don’t need any help just yet. Although, I must admit when I heard how good the band’s vocals were my first two thoughts were they were lip syncing or were aided by a backing track. Am I 100% sure that Kiss are doing all of their vocals? To be honest…no I am not. That is not entirely a knock against the band but rather a testament to how unbelievably good they sounded and how brutally cynical I can be.

As terrific as Simmons and Stanley are, guitarist Tommy Thayer and drummer Eric Singer are equally impressive. Thayer is a a dragon slayer on guitar as he plays with a ferocious precision that never falters. Singer is like a clone of Peter Criss as he plays with the same jazz-influenced style and dynamic showmanship. Singer’s vocals are also impressive, as he knocks his version the Criss song “Beth” out of the park.

The audience was a great mix of peoples. On one side of me was a middle-aged mom and her teen son, on the other a trio of twenty something Latinos, and right in front of me a conservative looking couple in their 60’s, all of whom rocked the whole night. The energy of the crowd never lagged and they and the band were into it the entire time.

If this is Kiss’s last tour they are certainly going out with a bang…but I wonder if the success of this tour will make the brain trust of Simmons and Stanley, who are notoriously motivated by money to an absurd degree, reconsider retirement. I’ll say this, I would definitely pay to see them again.

In conclusion, I did not expect much from Kiss but I had so much fun seeing them it is sort of miraculous. I went by myself, didn’t talk to or interact with anyone else, and yet I had a smile etched on my face the entire time. I was absolutely giddy basking in the glow of my live Kiss experience. If you have never seen them, I wholly encourage you to do so. If you go with another person you might have twice the fun I did!

I wasn’t a Kiss fan before…but immediately after seeing their spectacular show at the Staples Center I went down to the local recruiting station and enthusiastically enlisted in the Kiss Army. I ship out for basic training next week and will do all I can to make the world safe once again for 70’s rock. I hope to serve with honor and distinction.

Just as Paul Stanley dedicated the show to Kobe Bryant and those lost in the helicopter crash that killed him, I dedicated my Kiss concert to my friend Keith Hertell. Thankfully, I was at times able to see the show through his eyes, and came to fully understand his undying love of the band. I would like to think that Keith is in the heavens right now in his full Kiss regalia, looking down on me with an abnormally-long tongue extended through a most mischievous smile. I hope I’ve made him proud. I look forward to one day seeing him again…we have a lot to talk about.

SET LIST

Detroit Rock City

Shout It Out Loud

Deuce

Say Yeah

I Love it Loud

Heaven’s on Fire

Tears are Falling

War Machine

Lick It Up

Calling Dr. Love

100,000 Years

Cold Gin

God of Thunder

Psycho Circus

Parasite

Love Gun

I Was Made For Loving You

Black Diamond

ENCORE

Beth

Do You Love Me

Rock and Roll All Nite

©2020

Ready Player One: A Review

****THIS IS A SPOILER FREE REVIEW!! THIS REVIEW CONTAINS ZERO SPOILERS!!****

My Rating: 2.75 out of 5 stars

My Recommendation: SEE IT/SKIP IT. If you like Spielbergian action movies, see it in the theater. If you are lukewarm or want some deeper meaning, there is no reason to see this movie even for free on cable or Netflix.

Ready Player One, directed by Steven Spielberg and written by Zak Penn and Ernest Cline (based upon Cline's book of the same name), is the science-fiction adventure story of 17 year-old orphan Wade West, a skilled gamer living in the slums of Columbus, Ohio who takes on a powerful technology company in a virtual reality game titled The Oasis. The film stars Tye Sheridan as Wade along with Olivia Cooke, Ben Mendelsohn, Mark Rylance and TJ Miller in supporting roles. 

I admit that I was less than enthused about going to see Ready Player One because I tend to find Steven Spielberg to be insufferable as a filmmaker. Spielberg's pedophiliac addiction to recreating child like wonder always feels contrived, formulaic and frankly, a bit creepy to me. It hasn't always been thus, as I think both Jaws and Close Encounters of the Third Kind are utter masterpieces, but as the 1970's receded so did Spielberg's balls along with his artistic and aesthetic originality. 

It was in this rather negative frame of mind that I went to see Ready Player One. When the film opened with the iconic keyboard introduction to Van Halen's 1984 mega-hit "Jump" off of their aptly titled album 1984, I have to admit, it got me. You see, as a teenager in the 80's I was a huge fan of Van Halen (and to be clear I was a fan of Van Halen, NOT Van Hagar…so do NOT bring any of that weak-ass Van Hagar shit in here…DO.NOT.DO IT.), so much so that my best friend Keith would routinely play the opening notes on his keyboard, which was my cue to find the nearest chair, couch or table from which I would do my flying split jumps David Lee Roth style. While this usually happened in the midst of a Jack Daniels induced haze, foggy memories remain and they are among the fondest of my young adulthood. 

The signature sound of Eddie Van Halen's keyboards was a striking synchronicity for me that did not just recall good times though, but also something much more existentially unsettling. The darkness recalled was the fact that this month, April (April 17 to be exact), is the 21st anniversary that my "Jump" playing friend Keith was killed. And so when I heard the start of that classic Van Halen song at the opening of Ready Player One, the overwhelming feeling that surged through me wasn't the giddy pulse of nostalgia that Spielberg anticipated, but a profound melancholy and emotional fragility. 

It is somewhat ironic that I should be triggered to recount the crippling grief of losing a loved one at the beginning of a film where life is entirely disposable and when it is over you just get a to hit a button and start over. The existential questions that boil up to the surface when attempting to contemplate the incomprehensible are ultimately unanswerable, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't ask them. Great artists and great art exists to ask those questions, and to let the silence of the eternal void be their answer. Ready Player One mimes asking big questions, but all it really does is provide easy answers, which renders it a sort of philosophical and artistic fool's gold wrapped in the shallow glitz of pop culture.  

As "Jump" played on, Eddie Van Halen's keyboard is supplemented by David Lee Roth's Spielbergian lyric which perfectly captures the 1980's ethos and quickly becomes the perfect anthem for Wade West, the protagonist of Ready Player One,

"I get up, and nothing gets me down, you've got it tough? I've seen the toughest soul around. And I know, baby just how you feel, you've got to roll with the punches, to get to what's real"

Spielberg's camera follows Wade as he makes his way through "the stacks", a maze of mobile homes piled on top of each other to create a ghetto of makeshift apartment buildings. This opening sequence is not a particularly skilled piece of filmmaking, in fact, it is pretty standard, but it does effectively set the stage for the story, the myth and the subtext that lies ahead. 

The choice of Van Halen's "Jump" is not coincidental, and it reminded me of a quote that Joseph Campbell often used to repeat and which I have often repeated throughout my life. 

A bit of advice, given to a young Native American, at the time of his initiation: "As you go the way of life, you will see a great chasm. Jump. It is not as wide as you think."

The story of Ready Player One is that of Wade West and his Oasis alter ego Parzifal (paging Joseph Campbell and the Holy Grail!), finding the courage to "Jump". Wade West is being initiated from boyhood into manhood and he must pass the tests presented to him…sort of like in a video game…and in the case of Ready Player One…exactly like a video game. 

Ready Player One is also an unabashed tribute mostly to the pop culture of the 80's (although other decades get slight nods as well), hence the use of Van Halen's "Jump", which is the quintessential 80's anthem from the quintessential 80's band. The movie is populated by, and littered with, the pop cultural remnants from that shoulder padded decade that gave us such cinematic signposts as Back to the Future, Ghostbusters and a cornucopia of John Hughes movies. Ready Player One is also Steven Spielberg's tribute to himself, as he was as much a shaper and creator of the pop-culture of the 1980's and beyond as anyone living or dead. 

Of course, Spielberg sees Ready Player One as an homage, but I see it more as an indictment, or to be even darker, a cinematic eulogy. Spielberg's overall impact on popular culture has been detrimental in deeply cataclysmic ways. As Spielberg ushered in the blockbuster era of moviemaking in the 1980's, he struck a death knell for the artistic renaissance of the Easy Rider-Raging Bull era of the 60's and 70's where auteurs flourished and quality cinema thrived. 

Spielberg's corporatized moviemaking was meant to reinforce the establishment, not rebel against it, as fellow filmmakers of his generation were often trying to do. Spielberg turned from a potential 1970's revolutionary artist to an 1980's establishment Praetorian Guard who churned out pop culture meant to embolden the status quo, appease those in power, anesthetize the masses and fatten his bank account. Spielberg has been a malignant force shaping popular culture for the last forty years, and because of that he is as much to blame as anyone for the artistic, intellectual and cultural decay that is besieging the American soul and which comes to life on screen in Ready Player One. Seen through this perspective, Spielberg's Ready Player One feels like a film about lung cancer made by The Marlboro Man. 

As evidenced by my reaction to "Jump", I found Ready Player One's 80's nostalgia to be very manipulative, but as someone who grew up in that era, I can attest that it is at times very effectively deployed. But again, it is the end to which that nostalgic means is used with which I have an issue. Much like Trump's Make America Great Again was a nostalgic clarion call for the antisepticism of the 1950's, Spielberg's Ready Player One's nostalgia yearns for a decade just as suffocatingly conformist as the 1950's but even more toxic, the 1980's. 

Ready Player One's mythology, like the mythology of Reagan, Oprah and Spielberg's Baby-Boomer Corporate America where all life is commodified solely for profit, is one that contorts the human heart and psyche in order to make avarice and narcissism virtues and not vices. The form of cheap pop culture grace found in Ready Player One is meant to obfuscate our true humanity and maintain our delusional, money and celebrity centered society. 

Interestingly, Spielberg plays Van Halen's "Jump" for its entirety throughout the film's opening, which is rather striking as he is not a filmmaker, like Scorsese, known for utilizing pop or rock music to great effect. Spielberg's use of pop and rock music in Ready Player One though is done very well, and like the recent spate of television shows mining the 80's for music that can manipulate middle aged and younger generations simultaneously, Spielberg is wise to do so. 

As much as watching Ready Player One is like watching someone else play a video game, the cavalcade of pop culture and musical references make it a much more palatable and intriguing experience than I imagined it could be. That is not to say that there aren't downfalls to watching a video game movie, there are, such as the characters looking weird and un-relatable and the action being way over the top. 

Like all Spielberg films, there are certainly moments that are so contrived and hackneyed as to be cringe-worthy. Spielberg has always struggled dealing with grounded, genuine human emotion and interaction, and so it is in Ready Player One, but he is aided in that dilemma by two charismatic and compelling performances from his leading actors, Tye Sheridan and Olivia Cooke. Both Sheridan and Cooke make lemonade out of the lemon of a script they are given that in the hands of lesser actors would have been disastrous. 

TJ Miller and Mark Rylance both give quirky and interesting performances that I thoroughly enjoyed. Miller is an acquitted taste as an actor but I confess I have acquired it. Rylance is his usual, odd, enigmatic and intriguing self as James Halliday, the creator of The Oasis, and the film is better for it. Both actors are able to elevate the rather mundane material they are given. 

On the down side, Ben Mendelsohn plays corporate bad guy Nolan Sorrento and he never quite musters the focused energy and gravitas needed to play such a pivotal villain. Lena Waithe, Phillip Zhao and Win Morisaki are all pretty underwhelming as well in supporting roles that feel terribly under written and reek of tokenism. 

Another issue I had was that there are some scenes that are "flashbacks" but they use the same actors to play themselves younger and it doesn't work at all. The actors all look like old people dressed differently and pretending to be younger. For a film that is so heavily invested in technology, the inability to perfect the age in flashbacks is embarrassing. I know it is a hard thing to do, but it isn't like Spielberg doesn't have the money to get it right, an example of getting it right being Robert Downey Jr. in the "flashback" sequence in Captain America: Civil War

And one final issue I had with the movie was that Spielberg uses a Stanley Kubrick film as a narrative device (So as not to spoil it I won't name which one). This is not a crime in and of itself, but when Spielberg "Spielberg-izes" Kubrick's work, like he did with the irritatingly inept A.I., he always ruins it. Spielberg does the same thing to Kubrick in Ready Player One, where he takes a great idea, tinkers with it, turns it into a theme-park ride, and instead of Kubrickian filet mignon all we are left with is a very fragrant Spielbergian shit sandwich. I found this sequence to be so very frustrating because all of the pieces were in place for a stunning and extremely clever cinematic success if Spielberg hadn't screwed it all up. 

But with all that said, as someone who is generally less than enamored with Steven Spielberg as a filmmaker, to his credit, my very low expectations going in to Ready Player One were exceeded. Ready Player One is not a great movie but it held my attention and entertained me for two hours and twenty minutes, and that ain't nothing.

In conclusion, even though I find the very deep seeded spiritual, political, psychological and mythological message that underlies this entire film (and the majority of Spielberg's work) to be equally vacuous, insidious, nefarious and mendacious, I very tentatively admit that I was mildly entertained by it all. I think if you grew up in the 80's and a vapid, nostalgia laced Spielberg action movie intrigues you, then you should go see Ready Player One in the theaters, as it should be experienced on the big screen.

But be forewarned, as I found out the hard way, a nostalgic "Jump" to the past doesn't just conjure up pleasant memories, but can open old wounds as well. Ready Player One inadvertently opened up an existential wound in me that the movie and its filmmaker, Steven Spielberg, were metaphysically incapable of comprehending, never mind healing. This is why, unlike master filmmakers like Kubrick, Malick, Scorsese, P.T. Anderson and Kurosawa, Spielberg can only ever aspire to be a creature of style over substance and a purveyor of pop culture, as he is wholly incapable of ever being a transcendent artist due to the fact that he makes movies that give easy answers, but that never dare to ask the real question. 

©2018