As discussed in needless detail back on this post, the first vinyl LP I ever bought with my own money (well, my allowance) was a KISS record, specifically Dressed to Kill. I believe my original intention was to buy a copy of KISS Alive!, but my meager funds were not up to that particular task, so I settled with Dressed to Kill, took it home, and played the Hell out of it, much to the pronounced dismay and encroaching chagrin of my family. To this day, I still have that same well-loved (i.e. battered) copy of Dressed to Kill.
It didn’t end there, of course. I was a fervent and dutiful KISS fan until about 1981’s Music From The Elder, but even by the time of that much-maligned album’s heroically ill-considered foray into concept-album buffoonery, my enthusiasm had significantly waned. While I never renounced them, I no longer snapped up each and every bit of music they saw fit to release. As I was keen to say, at the time, I became a conscientious objector in the KISS Army.
Upon the advent of the compact disc, however, I did go back and snap up all those discs again. Once a KISS fan, always a KISS fan, it seemed
The band’s own fortunes suffered a perilous period of hills and valleys over the course of the next several years until the inevitable reunion of the original members in full-make-up, a resumption of duty I was entirely onboard for. I paid handsomely for tickets to that show at Madison Square Garden in 1996, and then again two years later at the same venue for their tour in support of the entirely forgettable Psycho Circus. That, as they say, was that.
In the wake of that tour, acrimony crept back into the ranks of KISS, and Ace Frehley and Peter Criss were again quietly respectively replaced by guitarist Tommy Thayer and drummer Eric Singer, each assuming the signature guises of their more storied forebears. As mentioned in this post from earlier this year, this affront was the dealbreaker for me.
This evening, KISS are slated to play their (allegedly) final concert at, once again, Madison Square Garden. Front-row seats for this show are priced at a level that would require wholesale asset-liquidation and maybe a bit of heathy-organ harvesting in order to financially accommodate, which means it’s going to be one solid row of headbanging hedge-funders. Even the “cheap seats” are ludicrous, starting, I gather, in the 600’s. Pardon my French, but fuck that shit.
Once again, as mentioned in this post, there was never a chance that I was planning on attending (outside of someone giving me tickets, which was and remains pretty unlikely). As far as I’m concerned, I saw KISS properly. Don’t need to again. I’ve fully made my peace with that.
That said, a decision I made this morning had a sort of sad, ironic sting to it. For the past year and change, the co-op apartment building my little family is fortunate enough to live in has been under an assessment to finance an extensive elevator upgrade and other sundry refurbishments. Without going too deeply into it, for more than a year, our monthly maintenance bill has been $900 more than it usually is, a strain which has all but decimated any concept of “disposable income.” Here on the precipice of the holidays, we are looking for ways to generate a bit of revenue, which involves everything from cashing-in the contents of our change jar to cancelling various subscriptions. In looking for items to possibly pawn, I unearthed a particular prize that might collect a meager sum.
From the bottom of my front-hall closet, I pulled out 2001’s The Box Set, the purportedly “definitive” collection of KISS rarities. It includes 5 CDs and a handsomely bound book, and comes festooned in a miniature guitar case. In all honesty, I don’t know how I came to possess it, but I believe it may have been a gift. In any case, I think I ripped what I needed from its sonic contents to my iTunes some eons ago, and this artifact has basically lived in my closet ever since, pretty much falling on my feet every time I open the door to fetch a coat.
The timing is strange, yes, but today is the day I bring this item to Academy Records on West 18th Street — much as I did with the Stooges boxset some years ago (unsuccessfully, as you may recall) — to see what sum it might fetch.
Last night, my son fielded his first college acceptance letter, and we want to treat him to a nice dinner to congratulate him for all his hard work. I’m hoping The Box Set will enable that.
I’m sure Gene and Paul would understand.
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