No regrets? A better title for Ace Frehley’s memoir might be No Consequences. Parts of Frehley’s life play out like an episode of COPS, except that the fuzz show up at a multimillion dollar mansion rather than a tenement. Cars are wrecked. Bottles of booze are chugged. Drugs are snorted. World class tools like Gene Simmons are annoyed. And in the middle of this, Space Ace manages to convince every kid with heavy metal dreams to pick up a guitar.

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Metal Insider tells me that both Rob Halford and חיים ויץ‎ turned sixty yesterday, which isn’t really that old in the scheme of things, but is still most certainly a reminder that Metal’s Founding Generation is getting closer and closer to death. Then again, you know who isn’t getting closer and closer to death? Dead people. So, yeah.

ANYWAY, I remember when Mick Jagger turned fifty, The New York Times did a big article about it, ’cause I guess it was unfathomable that a rock star sex symbol would ever turn fifty. And sixty is obviously older than fifty. So I kinda feel like we should be writing some monumental piece about these two. Only, no fucking way am I spending time doing that. Instead, I think I’ll just prepare their obituaries, so we have ‘em ready for publication when these dudes finally go the way of Joey Bellardini’s voice. That seems like a much more constructive use of my time.

In conclusion: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ROB AND CHAIM!!!

-AR

…there’s now a Kiss urn, too.

And I can’t decide if I think this is more or less offensive than the Kiss Koffin. On the one hand, spending any extra amount of money to have anything put on a box which is literally going to be placed in the ground never to be seen again strikes me as an incredible waste of resources. On the other hand, at least if you’re buried in a Kiss Koffin, your family won’t have to actually look at Kiss all the time. I mean, do you seriously want your loved ones forever associating your memory with Chaim Witz and Stanley Eisen? What are you, from the Bronx in 1963?

If you really, really hate poor people and starving children and cancer research, you can purchase one of these bad boys here for a mere $650. Or you can just e-mail me and I’ll draw a picture of Kiss on a shoebox and mail it to you for sixty-five cents.

-AR

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Welcome to “Question of the Week,” a (not really at all) weekly debate amongst the MetalSucks staff regarding a recent hot button issue.

We haven’t done one one of these all summer, but we came up with a fun one for this week:

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME AND PLAY ANY METAL BAND/MUSICIAN SOME OF THEIR MUSIC AND/OR SHOW THEM PHOTOS/VIDEOS OF THEMSELVES FROM THEIR FUTURE (OUR PRESENT), WHO WOULD IT BE AND WHY?

The MS staff’s answers after the jump.

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-AR

[via The Chive]

Allow me to shill for a beat before the weekend: If you haven’t already bought one of our new, limited edition shirts, go get yours now!!! They’re selling fast, and soon they will be the title of a God Forbid album. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Here’s some other fun stuff we did this week:

• Valient Thorr’s Valient Himself gave us the rundown on Fun Fun Fun Fest, The Red Chord’s Greg Weeks found the CFL fun and confusing, Intronaut’s Sacha Dunable talked about the best and worst drives in the U.S., and The Austerity Program’s Justin Foley is the latest to weigh in on free metal from Scion.
• We debuted new music from Murder Construct.
• We spoke to Pentagram’s Bobby Liebling and Christopher Drew from Nevershotnever and Eatmewhileimhot.
• We checked out the latest releases from Riotgod, Electric Wizard, Rimfrost, and First Blood and Killing the Dream.
• We asked you about old school bands you wanted to like but couldn’t.
• We joined Gene Simmons, Slash, and Dave Navarro in having NOH8 for gays.
• We laughed at both Kirk Hammett and the little girl he kicked.
• We also laughed at Sebastian Bach’s frail ego.
• We got really excited about the new single from The Human Abstract.
• We also got really excited about Decibel‘s new flexi disc series.

Have a nice, relaxing weekend gang. We’ll miss you muchly, but we’ll see ya Monday.

-AR

“Bullying” seems to have become a hot button issue since 18-year old NJ college student Tyler Clementi killed himself earlier this year after his sexual encounter with another man was allegedly streamed online by his roommate and another student. Public outcries like this are always bittersweet; on the one hand it’s a shame it takes a death to bring an issue like this to light (an issue which had shamefully been ignored for way too long), but on the other hand any positive change that can result from such a tragedy can be looked upon as a silver lining.

Homophobia and gay-bashing in the metal community — where a bunch of social outcast have surprisingly low tolerance for others that are different than they are — are as bad as they are anywhere. Exhibit A: the outrageous comments right here on this site.

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On Saturday night, I ventured deep into the heart of the clusterfuck known as The Minnesota State Fair to witness the monster known as Kiss. This was my first Kiss concert, and it was quite an experience to be sure, but after the smoke finally cleared and retina-frying KISS logo was finally unplugged for the night, I was left with a single nagging question: Does Kiss still matter? Not, Is Kiss viable? mind you. Hell, this band is a moneymaking machine with a screwdriver wedged in the gears to force endless cycles of rinse and repeat. You don’t sell 100 million records worldwide and continue to pack arenas by accident. Clearly, this formula works. But does Kiss still matter?

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When you go to a KISS show, you expect certain things. Explosions, blood, loud noises, drunken fist-pumping, explosions, fire, platforms, explosions, demon/starchild/alien/cat faces, obnoxious amounts of sequins, and possibly even explosions. It might seem cliché and it might seem over-done, but that’s what comes to mind when you think KISS + concert. So it’s a good thing they know that, too, because their show at the Comcast Center in Mansfield, MA was the loudest, brightest, most epileptic-fit causing explosion, ever.

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As I understand it, Family Jewels, the show about Gene Simmons, pushover softcore porn star Shannon Tweed, their plagiarizing son Nick, and their daughter Sophie (who, amazingly, I currently can find no ways to insult), is still going strong – but I guess the execs at A&E thought that if one show about a grown man who plays dress-up for a living was a hit, a second would be twice as nice. ‘Cause Blabs is saying that Dee Snider and his family are getting their own A&E reality program, to be called Growing Up Twisted.

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If you haven’t read Part One of my interview with Melvins frontman Buzz Osborne, you might want to check it out before you go any further. In this second and final installment of that conversation, King Buzzo pulls no punches. See below to learn his thoughts on grunge, crabcore, and why he’d rather open for Madonna than ever play Ozzfest again.

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The Wall Street Journal is reporting that Gene Simmons has finally gotten into the insurance business. Chaim Witz has been exploring new and exciting ways to slap the KISS logo on any and all products for the last three decades, and at this point, his marketing and merchandising efforts have long since jumped the shark. I could come up with something witty, but that would just be a waste of time. Honestly, I’m curious why it took him so long to finally get involved in this market.

Mr. Simmons’s new group, Cool Springs Life Equity Strategy, was launched last month to tap into a lucrative demographic: entertainers, sports stars and other people with a net worth of $20 million or more who need a life-insurance policy of $10 million or greater. The firm’s founders, who include David R. Carpenter, formerly of insurance powerhouse Transamerica, believe there is big opportunity to sell jumbo insurance policies to rich people.

Yes, undoubtedly there is.

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Last week the publication of Nick “Son of Gene” Simmons’ comic book, Incarnate, was halted after it became apparent to one of the millions of readers of a manga called Bleach that Simmons was blatantly stealing from that title. At the time we thought that Nicky had taken to Facebook to demand an apology, but it turned out it was just some dude who gets his ya-yas by pretending to be the douche bag kids of famous rock stars.

But now Topless Robot reports that the real Nick Simmons has released a statement, in which he attempts to simultaneously apologize for being a worthless piece of dung and not quite acknowledge that he’s a worthless piece of dung:

“Like most artists I am inspired by work I admire. There are certain similarities between some of my work and the work of others. This was simply meant as an homage to artists I respect, and I definitely want to apologize to any Manga fans or fellow Manga artists who feel I went too far. My inspirations reflect the fact that certain fundamental imagery is common to all Manga. This is the nature of the medium. I am a big fan of Bleach, as well as other Manga titles. And I am certainly sorry if anyone was offended or upset by what they perceive to be the similarity between my work and the work of artists that I admire and who inspire me.” — Nick Simmons

Hey, Nick, don’t sweat it. You were just paying homage to the artists’ whose work you admire! And it was clearly an homage, not plagiarism, right?

Dude, if ever an honest apology was warranted, this is the time. Don’t pretend you didn’t steal when the evidence is right there, schmucky.

Go to Topless Robot for more side-by-side comparisons.

-AR

SHOCKER! Gene Simmons’ son, Nick, is a total prick! I can’t believe it. I have no idea how that ever could have happened. I mean, he had such a good role model growing up.

From some dork website I’m not familiar with (via SMN):

“The American company Radical Publishing has announced that it halted the production and distribution of Nick Simmons’ Incarnate comic book series on Wednesday evening, amid allegations that the comic plagiarized Tite Kubo’s Bleach manga. According to Radical, ‘We are taking this matter seriously and making efforts now to contact the publishers of the works in question in an effort to resolve this matter.’”

What Would Tyler Durden Do (don’t ask) reports that Nicky-boy has gone on Facebook [Just some dude pretending to be Nick Simmons... oh, well. -Ed.] and demanded an apology. And side-by-side comparisons of his comic with the one he’s accused of ripping-off show that he deserves one. I mean, they’re clearly totally different (Simmons’ is the one in color, the original in b&w):

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Gene Simmons is the lowest of the low when it comes to putting his name on a product for a buck. The dude’s attached his likeness to everything from Mr. Potato Head dolls to coffee to toothbrushes, and he even attempted to sell his own kidney stone (no word on how that turned out). Mr. Witz proves the stereotype that Jews are money-grubbing scoundrels true and gives us a bad name (ok, so I’m cheap too… so what) even he does unequivocally like to rock n’ roll all night and party every day.

But nothing tops the sheer absurdity of this Yngwie Malmsteen humidor. Look at the fucking thing! Who would buy that? At least it’s useful though, unlike a fucking KISS Mr. Potato Head. I’m not really the cigar-smoking type except for once in a blue moon, but if someone <ahem> were to send me one of these <ahem> I could think of a certain sticky green substance that’d be perfectly suited for storage in such a case.

-VN

I don’t want to jinx it, but lately it seems that society is drawing closer to a public consensus that Kiss sucks donkey ass. There’s a social parallel: Time is disposing of the fearful kooks who oppose gays/non-whites/drugs/Nergal, and as a result the day is in sight when we’ll all be cool/high with each other while enjoying scarier Behemoth records. Likewise, the time will come where no Kiss fans will walk the earth puking money into the wallet of Gene Simmons for no other privilege than to perpetuate a shitty band’s shitty brand. And really, thank you, poor deluded children of ’70s disco-rock crossover, for proudly snapping up those Kiss shirts, thongs, enemas, pizza pans, and diapers; the rest of us can identify/destroy you with none of the effort it takes to flush out a fan of, say, The Scorpions or Bullshit For ValKilmerTime (or whatever).

It’s amazing that such a charmless, joyless band could enjoy such sustained suck-cess. Cuz sane people will tell you that those Kiss records don’t even achieve the absolute bare minimum of being performed, produced, or mixed well — whether or not their cynically manufactured songs themselves are any good. (Save for the delightfully retarded “Heaven’s On Fire” and actual scores like “I Love It Loud” and “Detroit Rock City,” the entire catalog could be catapulted into the sun.) Only Earth’s most resentful and contemptuous dickfaces could charge money for such sub-garbage product. I mean, shit, I gobble Tums in the lobby of Jack In The Box, knowing that tonight’s pre-dinner will tax the capacities of my crap factory; but for my money I am certain to receive burger-shaped food. If Simmons ran that dump, you’d order and then be handed a blurry picture of a barf puddle photocopied onto a dryer sheet.

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I found the following quote from a recent interview with Gene Simmons to be (inadvertently) hilarious:

“This is electric church, and no one on that stage — me or anyone else — wears the makeup and platform heels by some kind of birthright. This ain’t Europe; just ’cause your dad was king doesn’t make you the king. You’ve got to earn it. And when you defile KISS, you should be thrown out.”

Gene is referring to dudes like Ace Frehley, Peter Criss and Vinnie Vincent, of course. But I have to wonder what he thinks they did that was worse than this:

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I love Metal Insider‘s Bram Teitelman so much right now I could kiss him on his Quaker Jewish mouth right now (And no, I’m not kidding. And, oddly enough, Teitelman is the second Quaker Jew I’ve known. Bizarre.). See, Bram noticed what the rest of us failed to – that the riff from the new Kiss song, “Modern Day Who Gives a Fuck,” is more or less a total rip-off of The Sword’s Freya.

Think Bram is wrong? Listent to both and decide for yourself.

Here’s Kiss:

And here’s The Sword:

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I was initially optimistic about the latest cinematic update of The Wolfman (photo above right). The cast was pretty good (Benicio Del Toro, Anthony Hopkins, Emily Blunt), the legendary Rick Baker was doing the creature make-up, and music video director extraordinaire Mark Romanek was all set to helm.

Then Romanek fell out and was replaced by Joe Johnston (Jurassic Park III… ugh), and the production has been plagued by endless re-shoots and release date shifts and all the other things a studio does when they know they have a dog with fleas (or in this case a wolf with fleas) on their hands.

Perhaps even less enticing: Gene Simmons is doing the “howling” voice for the titular monster.

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When I was a teenager, if my father ever insulted me (and when he did, it was usually because I was being a little asshole and totally had it coming), he would immediately thereafter look at his watch. He was timing me to see how fast I could come up with a witty retort. That probably sounds fucked up, but I’m actually really glad my dad did that – it’s definitely one of the reasons I grew up to be such a prick, but, without tooting my own horn, I am very good at being a prick (you’re reading this website, after all) in no small part because of my old man’s insistence that I learn to properly defend myself in a verbal battle.

If only young Chaim Witz’s father had been as determined as Poppa Rosenberg to whip his son into mental shape. ‘Cause grown-up Witz (that’s “Gene Simmons” to you) is like the fat bully in the school yard – he’s way too dumb to trade barbs at an adult level, so he just says something sophmoric and unfunny and tries to claim said comment as a victory.

For example, look at this video of Simmons “debating” with music-biz guru Bob Lefsetz. Lefsetz criticized Simmons’ understanding of the way the music industry works today, and all Simmons can come up with by way of retort is to make fun of Lefsetz’s name. Forget, for a second, that’s not entertaining; it’s not even on-subject. It’s like watching Chris Farley tell David Spade “You’re a thick… candy…” in Tommy Boy. I mean, I almost feel bad for Simmons.

And now Simmons is losing a verbal war in the press with Trent Reznor, for the same reason: he just cannot hold his own in a debate.

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