POPFESSIONS

Jamie Whitehead

Having spent my formative years raised on a steady (or not so steady) diet of Bon Jovi and Meat Loaf (alright, I’ll be honest, I was utterly OBSESSED), by my teenage years, I’d gravitated my musical leanings to things that could be considered ‘cooler’. By this I mean Korn, Green Day and the like. So probably not that cool. 

At 17 and with an array of punk and metal albums under my belt, I ventured to the Reading Festival for the first time. I met a friend outside the station where I heard KISS’ ‘Crazy, Crazy Nights’ at ear bleeding volume. After spending the entire weekend working out weather or not I knew the words to ‘Detroit Rock City’ or whether I was just aware that it existed, I came home to a voyage of discovery.

KISS became everything to me. At the time, KISS (it always has to be written in capital letters) had 28 albums. Naturally, a curious 17-year-old like myself needed every single one of them. Some were great, some were crap. In their own way, they were all awesome. I started to collect the merchandise. I learned all the riffs and solos on the guitar, I wanted to form a KISS tribute band, but couldn’t find a suitable Gene Simmons.

My room was covered in pictures of KISS. I had a KISS flag which whenever I listened to them, I would hang out of my bedroom window. I swallowed it all, the awesome 1970s, the awkward 1980s, the terrible 1990s album Carnival Of Souls prior to Psycho Circusand the return of the real KISS. I was a Gene Simmons wet dream. 

To other kids my age getting into the likes of Linkin Park and Papa Roach, me listening to a bunch of dinosaurs dressed as a Starchild, Demon, Space Ace and A Cat must have seemed exceptionally strange. Well, not to me. They were, and still are, real to me. 

KISS aren’t just a band, they’re a lifestyle. It never goes away. I still listen to them as much now as I ever did. I’m going to be thirty next year, and I’m having a KISS themed party. I’ll be Ace Frehley stood in the corner. You’re all welcome.