Kiss
Psycho Circus

THE REVIEW

And so Pib fell into the kiss trap.

To date, there are 28 reviews of the Kiss. A sea; undoubtedly. Yet there is a small hole where no fanatic has yet intruded: into that hole I insert an otherwise useless one-cent coin and behold, marvel!, the sad music box tune starts. So sad that Peter Criss crushes it with hammer blows that make the drums tremble, already shaken by the Demon’s bass gunfire: “Hello! Here I am, here we are”, after all. In the year ninety-eight, more in shape than Grana Padano and tougher than its rind, here are the Kiss: welcome to their (new) show.

“Psycho Circus” is an energetic and roaring hard rock spectacle, yet absolutely musical in its wise refrain; noteworthy, besides the beautiful voice of the Starchild, is also Frehely's melancholic solo. Really a great song, no kidding. For Simmons’ voice, follows a granitic “Within”, more linear and less flashy, but I wouldn’t want to bump my head against it, not really. Another round, another ride, a welcome return to good vintage rock; “I Pledge Allegiance To The State Of Rock & Roll” is an intense track, typically Kiss-like, where the textures of the two guitarists splice onto the solid and underestimated rhythm of the two more reckless members: vintage rock and damned rock. Then comes “Into The Void”, a song that The Green Manalishi must have recommended I treat well at least a hundred thousand times, as many as the years mentioned in the distant debut. Don't worry, the good Green, I also find the song a spectacle; written by Ace (who also provides vocals), it's pure healthy hard rock: the guitars roar while Simmons massages the strings of his bass with his tongue. “We Are One”, after all, as the four tell us in chorus in the first ballad of the album; a ballad that, however, does not refuse occasional electric jabs. A melody that makes one feel, in any case: at times it seems to see the Barilla family embracing while the fox terrier throws the fusilli into the pot. However, as it ends, the blender starts again supported by Criss on the drums, while he puts on rubber boots to avoid shocks caused by “You Wanted The Best”. An Ace in great form (typically, the ace of spades: the others are smaller) mistreats his guitar while the Star grates the strings in violent rhythmic retching; the four alternate on the microphone for a cheerful vocal reunion. Very funny and original (without forgoing the grit that permeates this beautiful album) is the following track, “Raise Your Glasses”: the first minute like the final tune from Super Mario Land and a refrain like a teen TV show. Still on the podium is Frehely, but it was known he was a true guitar hero. Even his dealer, after all, knows it well…

It closely resembles the sweet “Beth” (from the distant “Destroyer”) the tearful “I Finally Found My Way”, written and performed by Peter Criss and filled with violins with mastery; a very soulful voice, as if the piano hammered the vocal cords. But the closure of the Psychic Circus is approaching, ladies and gentlemen: hurry as here soon the show will close and the puppets packed away. Am I only dreaming?, Stanley asks in “Dreamin’” with his usual rusty singing; a more conventional track, yet it does not hide a decent charm, still held by the two guitars. Without – to the joy of Tom Thumb – losing even a hint of tension, Tinkerbell's wand glimmers for a few seconds; then the Cat snatches it from her hand and invents a very particular and effective drumming for the last track, once again beautiful. After all, it's known: the hyperbolic title is a guarantee for the New York quartet, which this time departs for a short “Journey Of 1,000 Years” (read thousand, despite the annoying Anglo-Saxon decimal comma…). Very rhythmical and well sung by the Demon who for once restrains his tongue, the track bursts into an instrumental tail where the four vent once again before the circus closes, returning to their wagons loaded with sadness. On the desolate pressed grass, Tinkerbell picks up her wand, still hot, and disappearing into the now silent air she flies toward distant destinations too, leaving the parched lawn to the pipes of the thin pigeons.

"Psycho Circus”, therefore: it's an album very hard, especially if related to the previous production of Kiss. An excellent album, I might add: it’s already clear from the joyful cover with moving images (I can’t explain it better… you know the cards they gave with Kinder Brioss?); to my mind, the contrast between this superficial cheerfulness and the sadness inspired by the deformed Pierrot face thrown in the foreground is evident. We are facing, once again, a band certainly not epochal (or perhaps, in its way, yes?), but more valid than believed and which also has shown to have the means to explore new paths, not necessarily as challenging as it was for the successful “Music From The Elder,” but simply never banal. Because they will be anything, but never banal. Also just for their makeup, which boasts more imitation attempts than the Enigmistica Week.