By Thomas Wictor
Everybody knows about Kiss, the hard-rock quartet that roared out of New York and bludgeoned its way onto the stage in 1973. They brought with them explosions, fantastic costumes, makeup, and anthems. They were an act--but they were also a highly influential phenomenon. Twenty-three years and 30 albums later, the makeup is gone, the lineup has changed, the music has evolved, but Kiss is still surrounded by the same powerful mystique. Co-founders Gene Simmons and singer/guitarist Paul Stanley are the remaining original members of the band, which was rounded out in recent years by guitarist Bruce Kulick and drummer Eric Singer. And then the incredible announcement was made: the original lineup, with guitarist Ace Frehley and drummer Peter Criss, would be back together again for a monumental reunion tour--with makeup and pyrotechnics and platform shoes. Oh my.
Gene Simmons agreed to this interview amidst a flurry of activity. After spending time with the bizarre Kiss Hall of Fame traveling convention, the band was plugging its Unplugged record and finishing up its next studio album (still untitled at press time). He's a mass of endless surprises, that Mr. Simmons. For starters, he's leaner, better looking, and much taller than expected. Born Chaim Whitz in Haifa, Israel, he was once a sixth-grade teacher in Spanish Harlem, and his speech bears a distinct resemblance to that of comedian Jackie Mason. "I'll talk your head off," he promised before the interview. He did, too, cradling the tape recorder on his lap as he barely paused for breath.
When we were negotiating a meeting, he explained that
his extravagant rudeness on the telephone ("I don't know
when I'll be available ... I'm giving you more
consideration than I give my own mother!") stemmed
from being absolutely swamped and unable to engage in
small talk. 
But when I arrived at the Los Angeles
recording studio a half-hour early, he was already
waiting at the door, hand out, saying, "I'm
Gene." For the next two hours, he spoke eloquently
and knowledgeably about music, philosophy, religion, and
politics, while spewing enough profanity to cheer up
Quentin Tarantino. He made frequent affectionate
references to his mother, but his pronouncements on the
differences between men and women will have most
reasonable people--not just feminists--calling for his
head. Finally, though he all but demanded to be put on
the cover of BASS PLAYER,
he slyly withheld any mention of the possible reunion
tour.
It's impossible to describe what it was like spending
two hours with Gene Simmons. An approximation would be
the interview sequences in the film The Silence of the
Lambs. The dim lighting of the studio lounge;
Simmons's soft, curiously accented voice and
disconcerting eyes; his imposing physical presence,
fierce intelligence, and inflammatory statements; and his
extremely tension-producing mind games were all eerily
reminiscent of the character of Hannibal Lecter. Several
times, things careened out of control as Gene lost
interest in himself and decided to interview me, refusing
to continue until I had answered his questions. Quid
pro quo. The biggest surprise of all--a shock,
really--was that I honestly found Gene Simmons
inexplicably endearing. But if I ever hear he's planning
to have me for dinner . . . .
Would you care to set the record straight about your background, however you want?
I was born in the Holy Land and came to the U.S. when I was nine. When I landed at La Guardia Airport, I saw a billboard showing Santa Claus smoking Kent cigarettes; I had never seen Santa Claus, much less a Christian, coming from Israel. I thought he was a rabbi, maybe a Russian rabbi--he's got a beard, you know? So there was massive culture shock.
I discovered the Beatles by watching television; I must have been 12 or 13. It changed me the way no religious movement ever did. Elvis was a sex symbol and was important, but the Beatles changed the world: they changed fashion and hair length, and they opened the doors to free thinking beyond anything else--yet they didn't mean to. They were just playing pop songs. After that, I picked up the guitar and started singing in bands. I also started writing songs right away, basically by ripping off Beatles chords and singing new verses with new lyrics to them. Then I looked around and saw that everyone was playing guitar, so I switched to bass.
You've said there's something more male about the bass, as opposed to the guitar.
Oh, yeah. I think there's such a thing as
"balls," a male aggression that's induced by
testosterone. Bass played the right way can be a very,
very aggressive instrument. It doesn't necessarily have
to be 
melodic, although I've always
tried to play melodies against the chords and tried not
to use the bass for what it's usually been used for,
which is a rhythm instrument locked in with the kick. I
could give a shit--the kick means nothing to me. As
primitive as Kiss music has always been, I've tried not
to approach the bass just as a sort of
pumping-eighth-note instrument. That's better done in
AC/DC and other meat-and-potatoes bands.
In terms of lyrics, a lot of people say your work is misogynistic.
It is, without question. It's hairy gorilla music. But I think our critics' anger is a little misguided, because the entire genre is, by definition, sexist. The definition of rock & roll is cock and balls--it's men's music, so if I'm in the genre, don't pick on me for being true to its manifesto. If women want to play rock & roll, great, but they haven't succeeded yet. Okay, so there's Melissa Etheridge, but she still needs guys in back of her. Every band is filled with guys; I don't see any girl bands. One or two come and go--see ya, bye! It ain't serious; it's pop stuff.
You know, girls are going to complain, [shouts in falsetto] "I can do anything you can do!" It's not true. I can lift twice as much as you can--end of story. I don't want to hear a discussion. I can also outrun you. "Well, if I hit you I can hurt you!" You're wrong. If I hit you once in the jaw, you're dead.
Rock & roll is about aggressive vocal prowess and sounding like a bull, and sorry--cows don't sound like bulls. The very phrase "rock and roll" came from old black musicians down in Mississippi and means fuck; the actual definition of rock & roll is fucking. "Let me rock & roll you all night long"--guess what he's talking about! So if people accuse me of being sexist, I say, "Thank you," because that's being true to the form.
Is it your intent to discourage women from playing bass?
I think it's really wonderful that women take up bass playing and men take up knitting--but one or the other is not going to be very good at it. For some reason, men are designed with our finger abilities nowhere near as developed as they are in females. Women are much more tactile. Women are better at cutting diamonds, so they can wear more of them, and they're certainly better at knitting. It's not my fault, so don't hurt me for it. Now, wielding the heaviest of string instruments? We're designed to carry it better.
When we spoke on the phone, you said, "It's just the bass," as if it were something that didn't merit discussion.
I didn't mean "just the bass." I think bass is the thing females react to the most sexually and males react to the most in terms of heaviness. They think it's a guitar, but they don't know. And yet, take the bass out of the mix and see how heavy the guitar is. It sounds broken up. Without bass, you ain't got heavy.
It seems that you craft your lines pretty carefully.
A couple of guys very early on impressed me tremendously by completely ignoring the kick drum: Paul McCartney and Felix Pappalardi [of Mountain]. Also, Ron Wood was a terrific bass player in Jeff Beck's band. I'm much more a fan of that kind of bass playing than the stuff on Zeppelin records, where you can't hear the bass; it's so round, it's just like a shadow that goes by. I want to hear the notes, which is why I use a pick. If you're going to play something that you'll only feel, fuck that. I want to feel it, and I want to hear it.
Then there's the R&B point of view, the old Motown thing. You sort of felt the bass moving around, but you didn't know what it was. Finally, hip-hop took the balls by the horns [smiles at his choice of words] and decided to get rid of almost every other instrument except the bass. The bass became the backbone, with the guitar reduced to picking in the background--not even playing chords. Synth bass, unfortunately, but . . . .
How do you feel about synth bass?
I'm not a fan. When electronics are the master, the music becomes cold and inhuman to me. However, when we control the electronics, I find it very refreshing. Some industrial music is terrific, and some of what Trent Reznor has done on those Nine Inch Nails records is a lot of fun. And yet people have been there before--the early pieces by [modern-music composer Karlheinz] Stockhausen were very dissonant. There were a lot of almost post-impressionistic sonic artists who played around with sound and messed with its structure. Somewhere between pop song structure and industrial sonics is Nine Inch Nails, where it finally connects with people: songs you like, with a lot of cool-sounding stuff going on. In that music, the instruments are used incorrectly in the sense that the engineer says, "You're pinning the needles! That's not good!" The engineer's wrong--the artist is right. It is good. It's better to pin the needles.
Don't limit your music by limiting the instrument you're playing on. A fine craftsman never blames his tools. A craftsman doesn't say, "I can't play this because the instrument's not designed for it." Fuck that! Change the tuning. Break it apart. It's great to hear the Presidents Of The United States; the bass player, Chris Ballew, has two strings. Cool! Who said it's got to have four? While other bass players are going with eight, 12, 16, or a million strings, he goes down to two.
Why haven't you gone to a 5- or 6-string bass?
It's unnecessary. There's nothing like a battleship that's got so much armament that it sinks under the weight of its guns. I mean, walk in there with the proper armament--be ready for battle--but be able to move around.
You've been playing the same instrument for years.
The Gene Simmons Punisher is my own design, and I sell it myself. If you want one, you can call 1-609-PUNISHER. It costs 1500 bucks. Each one is handmade and signed.
Do they come in left-handed models?
Absolutely not. The left is the sign of the Devil: it's southpaw, not even southhand. You didn't know that?
I would think the sinister nature would appeal to your image--the skull rings you wear and all that.
I don't see skulls as being sinister at all; we all have one underneath our skin. It's what you see--it's your selective perception, the reality of the beholder. When I look at you I see skin, but underneath it I see a grinning skull.
The absolute, bottom-line truth is that I've used the Punisher for the last two or three tours. For a while, they were made by B.C. Rich; the company made only five of them before I decided to do it myself. I wanted to use certain woods and the best hardware and electronics--Schaller tuning pegs and EMG pickups. Plus, I wanted the old Fender bridge cover. It's sort of a hybrid of what I like most about different instruments. I wanted it to look cool and sexy and powerful, unlike these mutant instruments with one horn that's bigger than the other. I never understood that; in nature, very few horned beasts have unequal parts. I think all of those basses, including Fenders, look stupid; they have no beauty of design.
Doesn't the bridge cover get in the way when you mute the strings?
No, I rest my hand on it. I don't want to clean my instrument, so all kinds of stuff--food, sweat--goes into the bridge. I wanted to cover that up. Plus, I think some chrome on an instrument looks cool.
What about pedals and effects?
Nothing. You can push an amp--any amp. I've used SVTs, Trace Elliots, even Marshall guitar amps, and they all sound just as good.
What do you use now?
Literally any combination. On some of the songs on the new album I used a Roland guitar amplifier with a 12, so obviously I distorted it. I also used a 200-watt Marshall Major head, a Laney, and an SVT. It really doesn't matter. I challenge anyone walking on the face of the planet to listen to a record and say, "Oh, that's a so-and-so amplifier." You can't, and it's often difficult to say, "Oh, that bass? That's a . . . ." Sorry. Any bass will do the job, and any amplifier will do it.
You're dismissing the work of hundreds of luthiers and engineers.
It's a matter of taste! That's why I think all musicians' magazines dealing with technical stuff are complete bullshit, a waste of time. It's contemplating your navel; it avoids the main issue, which is the song. You can play it on a banjo or just hum it, and if you've got the right sense--if you've got the tune--they will come. You can use a Fender, a Silvertone, anything--it doesn't matter!
I sat in on some film classes at school, and they got trapped in the same thing: "What lens did he use?" They're missing the point; it begins with the word. Whether you use this lens or that lens, whether it's a down shot or an up shot--it's not style that matters, it's substance! And if you have substance, you can use a lot of different styles to get impact.
Still, musicians are interested, just as an artist wants to know what brushes other artists use.
But it misdirects all that energy. Musicians should spend the time trying to figure out what goes into the songwriting or singing--not the technical stuff.
What if the right bass sound inspires a player to write a better song?
[Pause.] I'll grant you that. That's a good
point.
Simmons tells me to turn off my recorder, and he
plays a mix of the new song "Hate." It's
terrific: dark, powerful, fast, and complex, with a very
contemporary sound. It's the best thing I've heard from
Kiss in years. While it's playing, Gene wanders over
twice to make sure my recorder is off. The second time,
he fiddles with the buttons, pressing FAST
FORWARD, REWIND, RECORD, PLAY--sometimes
all at once. I later discover that several minutes of the
interview have been erased or rendered unintelligible.
Does Kiss write songs democratically, or does one person tend to dominate?
Everybody's got a big mouth. If someone doesn't like something, he speaks up. You've got to have the balls to step up to the plate. Bruce has made a quantum leap forward; until two years ago, he was a nice guy, and now he's turned into a complete prick. If he doesn't like something, he says, "That's horrible! What were you thinking?" The truth is, that gets you the respect you demand. When someone steps up to the plate, you see passion and emotion behind the opinion, no matter how coarse or disagreeable the opinion might seem.
Why has Kiss been around for so long?
You know, I don't have a clue. It's a mystery to me. Kiss fans are beyond anything.
Are they still known as the Kiss Army?
That's what they call themselves; we didn't start it. It started in Terre Haute, Indiana, when a radio station didn't want to play Kiss. A guy named Bill Starkey kept calling to request our songs, and the deejay said, "We don't do that." Starkey said, "You'd better do it, because by five o'clock, when everybody gets out of school, we're going to surround your beacon with the Kiss Army." The deejay just ignored it--but at five o'clock, there were thousands of kids surrounding this thing. It made the front page of the Terre Haute newspaper; the headline read, KISS ARMY INVADES RADIO STATION, and the Kiss Army was born.
Does that put a heavy responsibility on your shoulders?
None. If people look to me as a sort of leader, they're fooling themselves, 'cause I'm a complete buffoon. I enjoy being one, and nobody does it better.
Paul and I feel like the two idiots in Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Are we as stupid? You bet. How about Beavis and Butt-head? Oh, we're much, much stupider than that--but we will outlast you and your kind. We are the cockroaches that will inherit the earth. Revile us, hate us--after you're long gone, we'll still be here.
People seem to have only two reactions to the idea of doing an interview with you--
May I cut you off? Thank you. First of all, depending on the person's age, and whether it's a male or a female, the reaction is totally different. To older females, Kiss is a joke, not real. To males in their 30s, we're gods: "I grew up with them--they're the best!" It's always love or hate, and I would have it no other way. Apathy is death. It's the black and whites, the hot and colds, that make everything possible. Who cares about lukewarm?
Is that why your more recent songs, such as "Spit," seem more hostile than your earlier work? To provoke reactions?
Not really. I think everybody--whether you're a painter, a writer, or whatever--puts down stuff that's going on. The song I write today is not the same song I would have written 23 years ago, which was when we started. I'm not sure I could write the same song today I wrote then, and back then, I sure as hell would not have been able to write the songs I write today.
We're still within the confines of bass, drums, and electric guitar, and although the form is very limiting, you want to move on and not keep writing the same songs. There's some stuff on the new record that's very aggressive; the words of "Hate" go: "Hate is what I am/'cause underneath this heart/there beats the heart of man."
And you believe that?
Yeah. When you're young, innocent, and naïve, you perceive a different world--I did. The more you live and the more you learn, certain realities become apparent: that the nature of mankind is not what we've been taught. I think we have an inherently evil and very present side. Our canine teeth are not accidents, and testosterone is not an accident; we have not only the ability but the instinct to kill. We have to work at becoming good, because it's too easy to become evil. It's inherent in all of us--from siblings torturing each other to bullies in school picking on other kids. We're no different from animals; it's complete and utter tyranny. In conversations, a bright person makes the person who's not so bright feel like a complete dolt, because he wants to feel superior. I'm as guilty of that as anybody.
If you're aware of all this, why not junk it?
Because it's easier said than done. If somebody cuts you off on the highway, your blood boils. Culture and civilization tell you to fight it--count to ten--but the instinct gets there first. The fight to be good is the continuing fight; it's not the other way around. It's not like, "I'm feeling good, and I love everybody. I want to get angry, so I'm going to work at getting angry." No--instinctively, we want to kill, and we have to fight that urge. That's what the song "Hate" is about.
Okay. I was going to say earlier ...
What an article for a bass magazine!
... there were two universal reactions people had about this interview. They said either, "Gene Simmons? The Gene Simmons?" Or, "Be careful!"
I like both reactions.
Why? You're a grown man. Why do you need to intimidate and instill uneasiness?
I want to be feared, because it's one of the few ways you can be safe. Meekness invites disaster. The beautiful idea of religion, that the meek shall inherit the earth, is naïveté at its highest. The strong inherit the earth; the meek inherit shit. It's the law of nature. I've never been in a fight in my life--not one--and I've also never picked on anybody. But I prefer to be looked at as a dark figure who could potentially kick your ass or slit your throat, even though I won't. It's a wonderful armor so that nobody bothers me. Some of the animals in the rainforest are very fierce looking; some of the snakes look poisonous so other animals won't bother them. But these snakes bother nobody.
The girls are right: I'm a snake. Shit, if I had been in the Garden of Eden, I would have given Eve the apple too, 'cause I wouldn't have had to take her out for a full dinner. She would have put out for just an apple--bam, I'm in. Adam's away, Eve's gonna play.
Now you're doing it again. After all that sensitivity, this crude intimidation.
Fuck, yeah. It's so much more fun to be a bad boy, without actually being a bad boy, than it is to be an angel--because then there's nothing to talk about.
What do you have to say about the double "s" in the Kiss logo, which resembles the symbol of the Nazi SS in World War II?
You know, people have told us about the SS from day one. I'm Israeli, Jewish, and Paul is Jewish; we were born that way--it's not even a choice. My mother was in a concentration camp. We'd be the last people on the face of the planet even to fool around with that stuff.
I wanted to call our new album "(Something) Chamber Music," and I couldn't think of the right word; Paul said, "How about `Gas Chamber Music'?" There used to be guys who would play music as you were being executed. But when Paul said that, we both immediately went, "Wait a minute." We decided not to use it because it's insensitive to what went on in World War II. It's beyond insensitive.
Incidentally, if you think the people who built those gas chambers were insane, you yourself are out of your mind. You're as insane as you think they were. The potential for evil in the human mind is endless; the inventive cruelty of man to man is beyond anything. Animals kill, eat, and that's it. We torture.
Are you always on guard, expecting the worst?
When you cross the street, do you look both ways?
Yeah.
Why? Don't you trust people? Do you think they're going to run you down if you don't look at them? I think the world's a pretty bleak place, and when I cross the street, I choose to think there's a good chance somebody will run me over. However, if I'm in the car, I will not run somebody over.
It's all about perception. If we were in the desert and you saw water in the distance, I'd say, "No, it's not there. I don't care what you see; we're in a desert." I'm seeing through the mirage, which is a beautiful fantasy world of water and palm trees. You can love it--it's okay! But even though I, too, may see the mirage, I know there's nothing there. So I don't drink all of my water; I guard myself.
Don't you think we need a little fantasy to keep from going insane, though?
Sure: Kiss. When I get up onstage, I don't want to go, "Here's who I really am." Fuck that! I believe you should pick on nobody but look bad, so nobody picks on you. What other choice have you got?
To hear any middle-class, upper-class, or even lower-class white person talk about problems--I don't want to hear it. The entire white, self-destructive thing is so wrapped up in today's music. Musically, it's such an exciting period, but the heart of it is so full of bullshit and posing. I mean, the idea is to win! To me, life is like a funhouse: you've got your mallet, those beavers are sticking their heads up and down in the holes, and you go pow-pow-pow! You try to hit as many as you can, and that's it.
Doesn't it get lonely, though?
It's the best! Don't believe the idea that success and power equal loneliness. You can have anyone at any time, for any reason, on any level.
What if you're not into that? What if you're into other things?
Then don't be a rock star--live on a mountaintop, look at trees, and be a hermit. That's valid, although it's not for me; I'd hang myself.
So does your position in life give you lots of power?
I have enormous power.
Do you think it's corrupted you?
Absolutely! I know I have too much money, and I fuck way too much, especially for somebody my age. I should be 16 or 18; my cup runneth way over.
Doesn't that bother you?
No, because I hold it in check. I'm fully aware that I'm spoiled and corrupted, but hopefully I'm sane--and if we're sane, we control all the insane urges we have. Every day of the week, we all wake up in the morning and crave the worst things we could possibly eat. As a child, we're spoon-fed sugar; it corrupts us, and we become addicted to it. We know full well it's bad for us, but it's a daily fight, like alcoholism.
Do you think your beliefs instill in you contempt for your fellow humans?
Absolutely not. I have very strong philosophical and ethical points of view about everything. I just think hate is natural, and love has to be worked at. The tendency of man is to be lazy, so if you say something off-color in a bar, what you're usually looking at is a sock in the face--not, "I beg your pardon, I'd like to discuss what you said because I know you didn't really mean it." Nobody gives you the benefit of the doubt, by and large. I'll go back to what I said before: You and I are completely the same, because we both look when we cross the street. We don't expect to be hit by a car, but if there's a guy there, chances are he'll hit us.
Well, I guess that's all. I'd just like to say--
That you're thankful. You were enlightened. You had a
great time.