Ace seemed like one of us. Kiss were superheroes, obviously, who could fly, breathe fire, spit blood and send smoke from their instruments upon command. Space Ace was right up there with them, shaking his axe in unison with his bandmates, riffs punctuated by arena-shaking explosives. But when the make came off and we started to see the men behind the Starchild, the Demon, the Spaceman and the Catman, Ace above all seemed like a regular guy, a laid back stoner who basically stumbled into company with his ambitious band dictators Paul and Gene. Nothing could stop those two guys from being rich and famous, and they've made it clear that money, power and (to use a nicer term than Gene's) women were their priorities. But even at the top, Ace seemed like he got there just because he was a nice guy who loved to rock. He could sing about as well as his fans, and that was perfect for "Rocket Ride," "Shock Me" and of course "New York Groove."
It's easy to see why Kiss fans, famously some of the most devoted and obsessive in modern music, almost universally prefer the Frehley lineup. He was there for the classics, and his contributions—that life-affirming guitar work on "Let Me Go, Rock 'n' Roll," the haunting breakdown in "Strange Ways," the skyscraping leads on "Shout It Out Loud"—are as entrenched in Kiss' DNA as anything the band ever recorded. It's no surprise that adolescents who listen to Kiss grew up to be Dimebag Darrell, Ihsahn, Tom Morello, Mike McCready and more than any published remembrances will contain. Young Kirk Hammett dressed as Ace for Halloween and Jason Newsted changed his musical direction upon hearing Dressed to Kill. Two members of Body Count (D-Roc the Executioner and "Ill Will" Dorsey) have cited Kiss as the reason they make music. Out of all Local H's storied Halloween shows, Scott Lucas cites their Kiss performance as a personal favorite.
Ace was not above embarrassing rock star indulgences or abhorrent political preferences, and much as we wish he'd stayed in Kiss, his habit seemed like more than his taskmaster bosses could bare. But I'd bet the most expensive piece of Kiss merchandise (maybe the Koffin? No, the Gene Simmons box set that he personally delivered to your house) that if polled, the Kiss Army would overwhelmingly pick Ace as the one we'd most like to hang with. He seemed like a genuine Bill and Ted, Wayne and Garth type who was thrilled to be there, sometimes at the behest of this teetotaler bandmates (mention Tom Snyder's Tomorrow Show among the Kiss Army and we'll all know exactly what you're talking about). But even Gene and Paul were willing to tolerate an inordinate amount of Ace tomfoolery in exchange for the joyous, unmistakable solos Ace put on record, a perfect dose of cheerful sloppiness for an otherwise Apollonian band.
Kiss' decision to release four solo albums from each member on the same day is widely viewed as an indulgent decision that helped tank the band's popularity. But like George Harrison releasing the best solo Beatles album, Ace stepped up from behind the confines of his bandleaders, proving that he had more good ideas than Gene and Paul knew what to do with, or had the sense to include on Kiss albums. "Rip It Up," "Snow Blind" and the underrated instrumental "Fractured Mirror" are worthy of classic-era Kiss, and his improvement of Hello's "New York Groove" has gone from being a Kiss Army favorite to a city anthem closing in on the ubiquity of Sinatra's "New York, New York." It now feels as beloved outside the Church of Kisstianity as "Rock and Roll All Nite" or "Detroit Rock City." It's covered by everyone from Yo La Tengo to the Roots. It's played over the PA at Citi Field Mets victories and soundtracks COVID-19 recovery campaigns. It's no surprise that Kiss now include in on their compilation albums, claiming it as one of the band's own.
Not long ago, I saw a mother out with her young daughter, a little girl in full Kiss make up. When I expressed my delight, the mother told me they were on their way home from a Kiss-themed birthday party, where all the kids got their faces painted and won Kiss goody bags. It reminded me that Kiss fandom is like Star Wars fandom, or Batman fandom—we read books about it, we dress like them for Halloween, we play along with their various ups and downs. Kiss are often criticized for being more of a business than a band (fair—part of that business is quality control, which Kiss delivers live and on record in droves), but Ace was an undeniable fan. No one could question his love of music or performing. Through much of this year, he was still playing Kiss songs as well as his body would let him, basing his setlist on fan favorites, happy to be anywhere he could play guitar. Thank you Space Ace, forever in a New York Groove.
