Space Ace at the Motor City Food Fest - by Jeremy Porter

Concert Review: 
Ace Frehley - Motor City Food and Music Fest
Farmington Hills, Michigan
Sunday August 28, 2016
By Jeremy Porter

On a warm & humid Sunday night in the Detroit suburb of Farmington Hills, Michigan, the Spaceman himself - original KISS guitarist Ace Frehley - landed with his band to close out the first Motor City Food and Music Festival. The setting was the parking lot of an old Sam’s Club that has now been converted into the shiny, slick, enormous Motor City Harley Davidson store, and the festival served as the grand opening celebration. Those driven to purchase VIP seating enjoyed rows of folding chairs in a fenced-in area in front of the stage, while those of us less-convinced it would be necessary stood behind, about 25 yards back. It didn’t seem to matter much - the vantage point proved adequate and our sightlines were fine. The 4-year old blonde kid with a mohawk and full Spaceman face paint, however, was glad to be up front with his dad, both clearly loving every moment.    

Just after 7:30, Fractured Mirror, the instrumental closing track from Frehley’s 1978 KISS “solo” album (his career high-watermark), faded in over the PA as he & his band gathered behind the stacks and walked out on stage. “How ya’ doin’ Detroit Rock City?” he asked in his trademark New York accent as they broke into Rip It Out, the opening track from the same record. OK, I’ll confess: I had goosebumps. I spent YEARS of my early youth locked in my bedroom listening to that album and the KISS records that preceded and followed it - over & over & over again. Ace was always our favorite - my friends and I. We liked The Demon too, and the Catman and the Starchild a little less, but Ace was the coolest. 

Opening with Rip It Out set the bar pretty high and established a momentum difficult to maintain. The set was a bit of a roller coaster ride - with other peaks like the Alive II-side 4 studio gem Rocket Ride and the unexpected Strange Ways from 1974’s Hotter Than Hell, and a coupla stinkers too, like the terrible song Toys from the 2014 Space Invader record and an unnecessary, extended bass solo integrating bits of God of Thunder, Black Sabbath’s NIB, and the theme from Halloween. I was probably in the minority, rolling my eyes when they went into classic KISS songs like Deuce, Love Gun and Detroit Rock City. All fantastic songs and crowd favorites - but none written by Ace or executed with the tenacity they deserved. All of this fluff was especially disappointing when there are several other options he could have pulled from his own catalog - including the great track Cold Gin, which Gene always sang, but Ace wrote, and other gems from that '78 solo album like What’s On Your Mind or Speeding Back to My Baby. 

I'm not sure that drumhead would have been approved by Sean Delaney. -Colin G.

I'm not sure that drumhead would have been approved by Sean Delaney. -Colin G.

Ace always had the look and the guitar chops, but he never had the vocal pipes of Stanley or Simmons. His voice always worked when called upon, though, thanks to a charm and character that matched his goofy, fucked-up personality. On this night, however, his vocals often came across as weak and tired, almost spoken at times, compared to the more energetic performances we’re familiar with from albums past. Maybe it was exhaustion from the road, or perhaps at 65 he (understandably) just doesn’t have the wind he once did, but it seemed like a little more effort at the microphone would have gone a long way. The drummer sang a few songs and had a more traditional and energetic rock and roll delivery (think Derek St. Holmes meets Paul Stanley), but less historical correlation and therefore less ultimate command of the material than Ace.    

The band was loose, occasionally to a fault, sounding at times a bit unrehearsed and sloppy. At their best they cast a very New York sleaze-rock shadow and came across as a cool, modern version of the groups that defined that city’s punk-glam sound in the '70s. Ace’s 3-pickup Les Paul cut through the mix nicely and he brought out the smoldering, smoking guitar for his extended solo and worked in bits of his Alive II Shock Me solo to the crowd’s delight. For a brief moment, I was myself transported to the upper deck of the Houston Summit in 1977, looking down through the clouds of marijuana smoke at this alien being from outer space ripping an amazing lead from a guitar about to explode in front of 16,000 fans.  

Despite the super-fan dissection of the setlist and the at-times lackluster and sloppy performance, it was a fun set. I mean, who doesn’t get a little nostalgic when their childhood hero is a few feet in front of them for the first time (I never saw KISS with Ace), or nod their head forward and back to the opening chords of New York Groove? Can’t say I’d go too far out of my way to see him again, or pay that $30 to be 15 feet closer, but it was a beautiful Michigan night, the price was right, and those familiar songs and great riffs are just ingrained into my blood.

Setlist:  

Fractured Mirror (Pre-recorded)
Rip It Out
Toys
Rocket Ride
Parasite
Love Gun
Emerald (Thin Lizzy cover)
Rock Soldiers
Bass Solo
Strange Ways
New York Groove
2 Young 2 Die
Shock Me
Ace Frehley Guitar Solo
Detroit Rock City
Deuce


Jeremy Porter lives near Detroit and fronts the rock and roll band Jeremy Porter And The Tucos. Follow them on Facebook to read his road-blog chronicling their adventures and see his photo series documenting the disgusting bathrooms in the dives they play. He's a whiskey snob, an unapologetic fan of "good" metal, and couldn't really care less about the UofM - OSU rivalry since he once saw The Stones at the Horseshoe. Still, go blue.     

www.thetucos.com
www.facebook.com/jeremyportermusic
@jeremyportermi
www.rockandrollrestrooms.com

Tuesdays With Ricki - week one / Rock & Roll Stars Selling Their Songs (and Souls) in Commercials

When I first came up with the idea for Tuesdays With Ricki – in which I will endeavor to entertain and/or bother the Pencilstorm readership with a semi-regular Tuesday column – I ran the title “Tuesdays With Ricki” past my lovely wife Debbie, saying, “It's a play on Tuesdays With Morrie, that John Steinbeck travelogue book.”  (Steinbeck is one of my three favorite authors.)  Debbie just looked over and said, “John Steinbeck didn’t write Tuesdays With Morrie.  That book was about a sports writer visiting his old professor.”  “Uhhh, I don’t think so,” I replied, “I’m pretty sure it was Steinbeck.”

It didn’t take Google long to straighten me out that I was thinking of Travels With Charley by Steinbeck, and the professor in Tuesdays With Morrie is losing his memory, so I’m probably definitely closer to Morrie than Steinbeck.

Anyway, Tuesdays With Ricki will be a hodge-podge of topics – my late-night TV rundown (literally), some music, some books (the Springsteen auto-b comes out September 27th, I’m hyped for that), movies, rock stars selling their asses to the highest bidder to get their songs into commercials (obviously a continuing boil on the skin of my universe), some Ricki C. rock & roll stories, etc. – whatever I feel like babbling about that week.  Let’s see how many Tuesdays I can get in before I drop the ball or Colin decides he’s had enough of my guff.

 

Rock & roll stars selling their songs (and souls) in commercials.

It’s getting so I can’t get through a single evening of television viewing without being confronted with my favorite rock & rollers selling out their birthright to the Lowest Common Denominator of network commercials.  Actually, in the case of The Rolling Stones’ “Sympathy For The Devil” being used by fucking PETSMART for God’s sake, we’ve actually found a way to go BELOW the Lowest Common Denominator – something my fifth-grade math back at St. Aloysius tells me is impossible, but here we are.

I fully realize I’ve bored readers with this subject before, but now it’s not just alt-rockers & pop stars peddling their asses to the Highest Bidder, it’s the BIG THREE of bands I formerly loved – The Rolling Stones, The Who and The Clash – offering up their tunes on the altar of the Big Bucks.  Of course this is nothing new, Pete Townshend has been selling out The Who tunes for DECADES (and, in fact, called an album The Who Sell Out back in 1967, but back then he was being all arty & ironic, it's only now we realize he was merely peering into his future).  Just last night in the course of one evening of TV I caught “Eminence Front,” “Baba O’Riley” and “Won’t Get Fooled Again” being trotted out to sell Disposables to The Masses.  Even by Pete’s rather dubious commercial standards, this might be approaching overkill.

“Won’t Get Fooled Again” was formerly my FAVORITE rock & roll song of all time.  I find now I can’t even listen to it when it comes on oldies radio in the car, let alone put it on my stereo at home.  And I fully realize that many Pencilstorm readers will say, “Jeeez, Ricki, it’s just a commercial.  It’s only rock & roll.  Lighten up.”  But I find as I grow older I find I CAN’T lighten up on this topic.  It’s hard to explain to regular people just HOW MUCH these songs once meant to me, and HOW HARD it is to hear them being used to sell dog food.  “Sympathy For The Devil” for Petsmart?  HOW BADLY could Mick Jagger & Keith Richards have needed that money?  It’s one thing for Mick & Keith to sell “Satisfaction” to whatever commercial that’s in, it’s quite another to peddle their paean to The Prince of Darkness to Petsmart.  What do cute cartoon puppies, “The Secret Life of Pets” and Satan have in common?  How many millions is too many millions?     

Which brings us to the next point: I’m thinking that all of a sudden we’re hearing Clash tunes – “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” “London Calling,” etc. – in commercials because Mick Jones and whichever widow of Joe Strummer’s has control of his publishing have finally signed on the dotted line.  I still have a problem with The Clash – who actually BACKED UP their early radical political leanings with action, the Rock Against Racism shows & such – being used as fodder for hotel reservations, but someone who married Joe Strummer probably still has his kids to raise, so maybe that woman gets a pass.  Do I believe we would have heard these songs on commercials if Joe Strummer were still alive?  Lord God Jesus, I hope not.  

Okay, one of my self-imposed limits on Tuesdays With Ricki is that no post will go over 750 words and we’re coming perilously close that barrier so let me just say two things: 1) Artists are fully entitled to do whatever they want with their creations, but just don’t come crying to me for my Concert Buck after you do.  You made your money, you lost my respect, I guess we’re even.  2) The Rolling Stones, The Who and The Clash all used to believe in something – the righteous power of rock & roll – and now they don’t.  I still do.  How quaint.  – Ricki C. / September 4, 2016.

Let's Pretend We Are Talking in a Bar About the Great John Fogerty - Colin Gawel

John Fogerty is playing The Jack Casino in Cincinnati Friday August 27th. I'm going.

The movie Green Room made me go back and listen to Green River.

I was going to use that as the title of this story but figured nobody would know what the hell I was talking about. Anyway, it's funny how things work out. This summer my wife and I had a brief window of free time and decided on a whim to go check out a matinee screening of the movie Green Room. We had heard good things about it. The clerk at the Gateway said, "It's a lot of fun."

It was a fun movie if fun means punk kids getting stabbed in the head and young musicians getting their throats ripped out by Nazi pit bulls.  Nothing against the movie, it's pretty damn good, it's just not what we normally have in mind for our typical "date" entertainment. My wife had her hands over her face the entire time. 

As the final credits rolled and one of the pit bulls walked peacefully past what could be his final victim I turned to my wife - who was still covering her face - and said, "What is this song? It's amazing. It sounds like Creedence?" The song was "Sinister Purpose" from the record Green River.  Huh. How I did I miss this nugget? I thought I knew all the good CCR stuff. (Listen Here)

Apparently not. I decided it was time to go back with fresh ears and give it all another listen. AND I finally got around to reading John's autobiography which I had been meaning to do since reading this review by James A. Baumann.

OK, I don't have the time/energy/talent/beer to organize all my thoughts into pleasing prose at this time. I just have to get these thoughts off my mind before going to see Fogerty this Friday in Cincinnati. Let's just pretend we are standing at Colin's Coffee or Four String Brew and I just start rambling off thoughts. You can pretend you are there and start yelling back why I am wrong.

- In 1969 Creedence had the greatest year of any rock band in history. They released THREE classic albums in ONE Year. They outsold The Beatles and did it by completely flying into the face of what was popular at the time (tight, great 3-minute SONGS as opposed to endless jams or, God help us, concept records). They headlined a little festival called Woodstock, but because they refused to let their music or images be used in the film or soundtrack, not many people know they even played that weekend. 

- For these reasons, overall rocking-ness and the bands' continuing relevance, one could make the case that CCR are the greatest American rock band ever. They have hits like the Beach Boys, lyrics as strong as Bruce or Bob and the punk/grunge influence on a generation similar to the Ramones. Once again it's worth mentioning that in a two year period they had TEN top five singles, (OK, "Fortunate Son" was #6) and they outsold The Beatles in 1969 and 1970. I know The Beatles were breaking up and coming to an end, but it still counts to be the man who beat the man. Just ask Buster Douglas. 

- Taken in context of the Vietnam war, the draft, and the campus riots nationwide, the song "Fortunate Son" is the greatest protest song in American history. Or as James Baumann puts it, "the first punk rock song." 

"Some folks are born made to wave the flag
Ooh, they're red, white and blue
And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, Lord
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh
But when the taxman comes to the door
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no"

Holy Shit! (John, by the way, served two years in the reserves, active duty.)

- Two hundred years from now, songs like "Proud Mary," "Lookin' Out My Back Door" and "Centerfield" will be held in the same esteem as the works of Mark Twain and Walt Whitman. It could be possible that only Bruce Springsteen's songs will have left a bigger mark on America than John Fogerty. Yes, John could eventually be considered more important than Dylan.

"Left a good job in the city
Workin' for the man ev'ry night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleepin'
Worryin' 'bout the way things might have been"

"Just got home from Illinois,
Lock the front door, oh, boy!
Got to sit down,
Take a rest on the porch.
Imagination sets in,
Pretty soon I'm singin'.
Doo, doo, doo,
Lookin' out my back door."

"Well, a-beat the drum and hold the phone
The sun came out today
We're born again, there's new grass on the field
A-roundin' third and headed for home
It's a brown-eyed handsome man
Anyone can understand the way I feel

Oh, put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Put me in coach, I'm ready to play today
Look at me, I can be centerfield"

- John Fogerty is now my favorite guitar player. I love the way John finds a guitar hook and before rushing off to the next lick, he lets you hear it a couple of times. It's why CCR "jams" like "Ramble Tamble" hold up and jam bands never do. 

Uploaded by lovalver on 2010-11-28.

 

Off the top of my head, my new personal guitar hero rankings 1) John Fogerty 2) Willie Phoenix 3) Bruce Springsteen 4) Chuck Berry 5) Pete Anderson 6) Angus Young 7) Willie Nelson 8) Ace Frehley 9) John Speck 10) Andy Harrison

- John got screwed worse than any white musician in pop history. He lost all his songs. He got sued for sounding like himself. It went all the way to the Supreme Court. He lost all his money in an off-shore account set up by his label. Fantasy record owner Saul Zaentz is truly an evil bastard who is hopefully rotting in hell as I write this.

- I'm sure working with John was no walk in the park but many of the greats are a huge pain in the ass. But the fact that his Creedence band mates sold their "votes" to Saul for $30,000 so he could outvote John on band issues 3-1 is beyond contemptible. John was justified in his refusal to play with Doug, Stu and his brother Tom after that knife in his back. John may have been a load to handle, but without his talent and work ethic nobody in that group gets rich or famous. 

- Still, John likes to bash his former band mates lack of musicality but I have to defend the original CCR on this one. No matter how many crack musicians John stacks in his solo band, there is a magic to the original line-up that cannot be recaptured live. The most talented band isn't always the best band. See: Neil Young and Crazy Horse in which Neil obviously was trying to follow the path CCR had laid down. Watch below. 

Live In Royal Albert Hall 1970

OK, that's it for now. Let's continue this discussion over a beer at the Cleveland Browns kick-off party at Four String Brew Sunday, September 11th. League Bowlers playing a FREE set at noon, sure to include some CCR. 

Colin Gawel is going to see John Fogerty in Cincinnati Friday August 26th. 

 

 

Loving a Band That's Easy to Hate: My Life with KISS - David Martin

This is Day 2 of Kiss Kountdown. Click here for Day 3

Loving a Band That's Easy to Hate: My Life with KISS - David Martin

I was eight years old when Kiss' popularity peaked. I owned a copy of Alive! and a Destroyer jigsaw puzzle. I was not a dues-paying member of the Kiss Army. But I was at least in the Kiss Reserves.

Then, Kiss became like a toy that no longer interested me.

I don’t remember being upset when Peter Criss and Ace Frehley left. My friend Steve, who lived across the street and had cable TV at his house, called me when the video for “Thriller” aired on MTV. There had been no phone call when, a few months earlier, the members of Kiss appeared on the network without makeup.

I became a Kiss fan again in high school. Colin and other friends argued on behalf of the band’s legitimacy in the lunchroom. Also, we were driving by this point. Waiting out the tense period after puberty but before girls found us appealing, we did not have many places to go besides record stores and concerts.

My first Kiss show was in the spring of 1986. Kiss visited Columbus at the tail end of the Asylum tour. Hair metal was going through its neon colors-and-rouge phase. Gene Simmons — the demon! — was not a man for these sequined times. He looks ridiculous on stage in pictures from that era. But I don't recall thinking the show was ridiculous. I remember having a great time.

I continued to attend Kiss shows past the point where I could blame a not fully developed brain. Sometimes I have paid for shows, and sometimes I have had press credentials. I have seen the band with and without makeup and the original four members. Shows have ended with me feeling cheated and shows have ended with me feeling elated.

The last time I saw the band, in 2009, I accompanied the music critic at the newspaper where I worked. Our seats were in the second row, right in front of Gene’s microphone stand. It was the first and only time I have had great seats at an arena show. During one break between songs, I spied Gene using a water bottle to wash the blood off the ends of his hair. 

I am not a stupid man, and I like to think I have pretty good taste. Bands I really dislike — Poison, Def Leppard — are not too dissimilar from Kiss. On paper, at least, I should have grown out of Kiss a second time. But I did not. In fact, not too long ago, I took the time to burn a CD of my favorite Gene songs. 

Therein, I think, lies the simple answer to the riddle of why I still like Kiss: The band has a lot of good songs.

This, for instance is Gene's B-material:

Kiss performed "Almost Human" in concert for the first time on a recent, nerds-only Kiss cruise. Yep, even on the night when Paul Stanley went to the hospital and the band performed without him, this gem stayed in the bag. That's how many good songs Kiss has.

​Think Kiss is all mediocre head-banging bullshit? Cuddle up to this fire. It will keep you warm:

 

Gene, of course, is not the only songwriter in the band. In his review of Rock and Roll Over, the respected critic Robert Christgau praised the band for its "tough, catchy songs." I like think that Christgau was thinking of Paul Stanley's contributions when he wrote that passage. Take a look at what Paul brought to RARO:

"I Want You"
"Take Me" (co-written with Sean Delaney)
"Mr. Speed" (co-written with Delaney)
"Hard Luck Woman"
"Makin' Love" (Delaney again)

Eight moths later, the band released Love Gun. "I Stole Your Love" and "Love Gun" (Paul songs) opened each side. The solo albums came next, and Colin's right that Paul's is the best of the bunch. Starchild was on fire. 

The band's Lennon/McCartney dynamic is a big reason why the band has endured. No, I am not arguing Kiss was as good as and important as the Beatles. But bands with two principals have a lot of advantages: more songs, a less fertile environment for self-indulgence. When one crew chief hits in a dry spell or becomes disinterested (see: Gene, 1982–1991), the other one can put the band on his back. (Paul wore bike reflectors on his.) 

Having two male leads has obviously meant a lot to Kiss' live shows. When you begin to tire of Paul's ass-shaking, finger-linking and chest-hair caressing, you can watch a seven-foot bat clomp around, breathe fire and leer at your date. 

Sure, sure, there's a lot not to like about Kiss. The relentless and crass merchandising. How obnoxious Gene is. The lyrics. (Not content to write a song called "Love Gun," Paul would later reference said gun in song called "Bang, Bang You.") Hipsters collect and swap Paul's ridiculous stage banter in the same way that hipsters of yore used to swap videotapes of Jerry Lewis being maudlin on his telethon. 

I cannot defend Kiss Kaskets or Gene's interview with Terry Gross. But if I knew something about your tastes, I could probably burn a CD of Kiss songs that you would like (or at least not hate). If I took you to a show, you would think it is dumb in a pro wrestling kind of way. But your head would bob when the band played "Love Gun" and you might think Gene's boots are also kind of cool, too.

"A million so-and-so's can't be wrong" is usually a bad argument. But if the Grateful Dead gets to be in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, so does Kiss. The fist pumps and hippie dances have spoken. 

So here's a toast (or as Paul might say, a little al-ka-HOL!!!) to the band famous enough to appear on jigsaw puzzles, greedy enough to remain a going concern several years after a "farewell" tour, and tough and catchy enough to keep us interested. 

David Martin

I'm Opening for Miles Nielsen this Friday at Natalie's - by Colin Gawel

If you haven't already got tickets for the Two Cow Garage / Tommy Stinson show this Friday August 19th, I've got another suggestion for your social calendar. Yours truly will be opening the show for the fabulous Miles Nielsen and The Rusted Hearts at the equally fabulous Natalie's Coal Fired Pizza in Worthington. I'll be on at 10 pm with Miles and crew following around 10:45.

Click here to reserve a table or purchase tickets.    

Sure, Miles happens to be the son of Cheap Trick's Rick Nielsen, but he and his band the Rusted Hearts have cut out their own swath of pop-infused cosmic American music. I'm a huge fan. In fact, you may have read the story I posted a while back. (click here to read "Miles Nielsen is the opposite of Sammy Hagar's Kid")  

His latest record is Heavy Metal. You can check out the video below and click here to visit his website.  Hope you can make it out to the show. It's going to be a good one. 

Directed by Melissa Revels Edited by Robert J. Williams

4.29.16

Above: Heavy Metal teaser.  Below: Me

Official music video for Colin Gawel's "Superior". The single was released on the EP-CD "Superior" by Mike Landolt's Curry House Records label. More at www.colingawel.com. Video produced by Palestra Creative (www.palestracreative.com).

Behind The Scenes: Colin's Music Video - by Wal Ozello

I met Colin when I was in film school in the early '90's. Even back then I wanted to film a music video for him, as I was always impressed with the way he told a story through his lyrics. 

So when our paths crossed again decades later, I knew I'd have a chance.  The right song never came around until Colin pressed his latest CD, The Best of Colin Gawel: Superior. He shared with me an early mix of track four, called "Dad Can't Help You Now" and I said, "That one's mine." It's a good thing I claimed it early because others jumped at the chance as well, but Colin set it aside for me and I'm grateful he did.

For the past couple Sundays, we've been busy shooting footage for it.  A friend of mine and local filmmaker, Alex Williams, offered to be the Director of Photography and another local filmmaker, Maria Clark of Brainstorm Media, offered to be the Producer. Filmmaker Tim Baldwin plays the role of Dad and I cast my son, Sam, as the Son.  Colin got two Upper Arlington baseball teams to help out, the Rough Riders and UA Bears, and parents from the teams came out to support. We also got some extra production help from Claire George, Jonathan Rolston, Lucas Lewinter, Sarah Martin, and Ryan Newell. 

The film is now in the editor's hands, Eric Ringquist, and we're all impatiently waiting the results of his magic. I should see a rough cut in a couple of weeks. But in the meantime, I'd like to share some behind the scenes pictures.  Enjoy!

Colin in the studio

TIme for Colin's Close-Up

Guitar Close-Up

Last game of the season

Colin's son at bat.

Sam getting ready for the big pitch.

Sam getting ready for the big pitch.

Crowd cheering on the team

Bench is cheering on the team

Wal Ozello is a local filmmaker and the lead singer of the Columbus hairband Armada. He's the author of the science fiction time travel books Assignment 1989, Revolution 1990 and Sacrifice 2086 and a frequent customer at Colin's Coffee.