Casablanca - 1974
10/10
You have to love when one of the most classic bands in the rock ‘n roll realm perfects their sound on the first album. Seen by me as a response to Alice Cooper’s Love It To Death, The debut Kiss album simply titled Kiss is a wonderful culmination of everything I love about the early ‘70s hard rock sound that may just dabble in heavy metal. The metal genre didn’t have a definite line in 1974, but I can’t not include it in the inspiration that makes this debut so incredible. Paul and Gene have had upwards of twenty albums, yet none to me can hold a flame to this. But why?
The simple answer is that as good (or not) as everything after this release is, it misses the raw, laid-back, adolescent vibes of the first. Much of the sound at the time was developing the rock roots of the ‘60s into something harder, and they nail every bit of that here. While there are no ballads, Kiss reflects the genre up to this point through a heavy metal mirror wonderfully. With that, you get the warm colors, the cold colors, and the in-betweeners that allow this to flow smoothly. Unless you have the very rare pressing that doesn’t contain the catchy Bobby Rydell cover “Kissin’ Time,” then let this tune pay homage to what the record is all about; a harder rendition of what’s been done already.
Looking at the warmer numbers, you can find upbeat energy, major chord progressions, and a lighter feel that wears its influence on its sleeve. The classic “Nothin’ To Lose” just breathes Dave Clark Five under a distorted tone, while my personal favorite “Let Me Know,” trades off vocals in a feel-good manner, so much that I’d call this song unfairly overlooked. That lick at the end really ties it off nicely, and the utilization of sturdy melody can take a lot of the load. Even the instrumental “Love Theme From Kiss,” being only part of a longer song, invokes the same feeling without resting on vocals and lyrics about sex, something that becomes more prominent the deeper into the ‘70s that we get.
On the other hand, some utilize this method with the modern (for the time) writing ground. “Firehouse,” “Strutter,” and “100,000 Years” are loaded to the brim with the same emotion, but use heavier riffing and contemporary progressions. The last of those three really lets Gene Simmons’ bounciness show, while Paul Stanley takes the mic to match it with a slightly harder edge. I may even lump “Cold Gin” into this, one that still retains somewhat warm energy but rakes in even heavier layers. The bridges and small guitar breaks before the reprise in this song are so simple, yet as compelling as any Black Sabbath riff of the time. This type of construction makes up the majority of the projected idea, and a key ingredient is the harmonious vocals that come in the form of another singer, or the whole band; truly this paints an entire layer of its own onto the songs, contrasting beautifully.
That leaves us with the two heavy hitters that almost entirely focus on the darker approach. “Deuce” somehow made it as a hit despite this, and while the chorus is certainly catchy, there’s no denying the aggressiveness in Ace Frehley’s leads on the outro and the rumbling bottom on what’s an otherwise straightforward tune. The other is closer “Black Diamond,” letting Peter Criss take the forefront, save for Paul’s soft intro over acoustic leads. The booming outro is like icing on the cake, as much of this is developed with metal-oriented riffing and wonderful gaps of bass-fills to carry that weight. Truly an immaculate song, and Criss’s rough vocals match it wonderfully.
It’s understandable why these shock rockers aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I think that had they become less of a “brand,” and stuck to what Kiss offers up for the majority of their run, metalheads would be far less compelled to complain about them. Obviously I’m glad this wasn’t the case; there’s so much to get out of their discography moving forward, with all its highs and lows. But without a doubt, I don’t think they ever reached the perfection that was achieved on the debut. It makes me think of a ‘70s small town home around a fireplace, accompanied by booze, snow outside, and youthful debauchery.
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