Bronze the tongue hang-up the costumes.
I like Kiss. In the 70′s, the late night commercials advertising their impending invasion of Nassau Colliseum were even kind of creepy. And, lucky me, I got to see them in like 1996 at a surprise outdoor show in Brooklyn, and they fucking killed it.
But as I write this I’m watching a 2006 concert of theirs being broadcast on VH1. And it’s bad. Really, really, bad. Like, high school cover band in stupid makeup bad. These old bastards can’t even fucking sing any more: they’re just grunting and yelling like 1978 frats boy that did too many beer bongs and are trying to impress their brain-dead buddies before date-raping the cheerleading squad or hitting the rec room for a quick circle jerk. It’s so bad that I’d feel bad for them if it weren’t so obvious that they’re just phoning it in for the green.
Jesus, now Peter Criss Eric Singer (meee-yowww) is doing a drum solo. In the world of boring drum solos, this one could run for god. Really. I beat out more interesting stuff from behind a locked bathroom when I was twelve.