KISS – Part 2: KISS Meets the Phantom of the Church

When we left off, I was newly enamored with the fire-breathing, make-up wearing rock band KISS. My cousin had introduced me, and I was eager to discover more.

Circus magazine, circa 1978

When my parents dragged me out to for grocery shopping, I’d immediately head over the to magazine rack, looking for the latest Mad Magazine or Fangoria to page through while I waited.  Soon I discovered other mags on the shelf; Circus, Creem, and Hit Parader magazines became my information sources for all things KISS. I learned useful things like “no one knows what they look like” and “they put their real blood in the comic books”, and the not so useful like who Gene was dating.  I also made regular trips to the record aisle, flipping through in amazement at the album covers.  The solo albums were particularly awesome.

At the same time, my newfound interest was being frowned upon by the people of the Catholic Church, clergy, teachers and students alike.

They are devil worshipers…
KISS stands for Knights In Satan’s Service…
They spit real blood…
They are gay because men don’t wear makeup…
No, you cannot play KISS during music sharing day…

I was confused. I wanted to do well at this Catholic thing, even becoming an alter boy.*  But, these dudes were so cool, so larger than life, so everything I wanted to be in this new school I’d been thrust into.  I couldn’t let it go.

Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Park

The kicker was the television movie spectacular KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park.  Laugh all you want, but during the Halloween season of 1978 when I was 8 years old, this was the greatest two hours of television ever created.  I remember it vividly: running up from the basement of my grandmother’s house, all the grand kids stopping what they were doing and rushing, to fight for a seat in front of the television  to witness the most anticipated program of our young lives (until the Star Wars Holiday Special  a month later, anyway). KISS was not just a rock band in this spectacle. They were superheroes with powers and kick ass music.  There was a mad scientist, evil robots, fire, lasers, Rock ‘N’ Roll All Nite, the Starchild, the Demon, the Catman, and the Space Ace.

 

The fearsome album cover.

 

I started saving every penny of my allowance money to buy my first KISS album.  Several months, and many many chores later, I had enough set aside. I had also made a decision which album I would be getting: KISS Gene Simmons, the solo album.  Gene, the Demon,  was the most intriguing of the characters of KISS; the tongue, the blood, the fire. He did all the stuff that made the Catholics shit themselves. So, I decided that I must have the cool, red silhouetted, blood dripping, intimidating solo album.

When I got to the Rinks (the now long-defunct Midwest department store chain), I ran money in hand to the music department. I flipped through the records excitedly, until I found it. I picked it up nervously. The glare, the teeth, the blood… as a grade school kid, it was exhilarating and terrifying. This was it. I was going to own my first KISS record…

…and then I turned it over. On the back were the song titles.

SIDE ONE
Radioactive
Burning Up with Fever
See You Tonite
Tunnel of Love
True Confessions

SIDE TWO
Living in Sin
Always Near You/Nowhere to Hide
Man of 1,000 Faces
Mr. Make Believe
See You in Your Dreams
When You Wish upon a Star

Wait a minute… what was track one, side two again? Living in… sin?!?!  Shit. Shitshitshitshit.  I flipped repeatedly from the back to front of the album, look from that song title to the scowl of demon on the cover. The words of those in my school began to echo in my head. Devil worship. Satan’s service. Gay blood.  I foresaw the disapproving stares of, well, everyone: my parents, aunts, and uncles; of Father Bill, the head of the parish; and of Sister Rebekah, the school principal. It didn’t help that Gene Simmons really looked like he was going to eat my soul right there in the store.

In one of the few moments in my life when I completely and utterly panicked, I performed what I now refer to as The Marvel Maneuver.  I slowly set the record back on the shelf, placing it discretely behind Kenny Loggins. That way Gene could not see what I was about to do. I took a deep breath, walked over to the children’s aisle, quickly flipped through the row of story book albums, and picked up two that I thought may not cause me any embarrassment or require any explanation.

The Amazing Spider-Man

The Incredible Hulk

As casually as I could muster, I joined my mom, who waited at the end of the aisle ready to check out, and placed the The Amazing Spider-Man: The Invasion of the Dragonmen, and The Incredible Hulk children’s story LPs into the cart.

“What’s that?” my mother asked. “I thought you wanted that Kiss album.”

The jig was up. I could either tell her the truth (I’m confused and  scared of going to hell), or try to find a way not to look like a chicken shit. I knew this was not what I wanted, that these new people in my life had it all wrong. Didn’t they?

“Nah,” I replied. “These are way better. I get two for the same price, with 5 stories on one, and 4 on the other.” My mother shook her head and put the albums on the counter.  I died a little inside when I handed her my allowance.  I died even more when I got home and listened to them.  Plus, I had lied to cover that I was afraid to do something that might curse me to hell. So, I didn’t even spare myself that fate.  Damn, this religion shit is hard!

Don’t worry.  I eventually recovered and began to acquire many KISS albums shortly after this incident. However, this event represents a key moment  in my life, a one of weakness, of cowardice, of giving in to fear, which has stuck with me ever since.  Faith-induced fear and guilt that would be the lasting stamp of the Catholic Church on my life.  I leave you with, not a song, but a story track from the album for which I sold my soul to that Church at a naive 9 years old.  That, more so than the album choice, was the real crime which took a lot longer for me to recover from. And, thus, is part of the soundtrack of my life.

*NOTE: Okay, confession time: the free year-end trip to Kings Island Amusement Park for all the alter boys played large part in that decision