Frehley

In fact, I never judge harshly. As sports fans say, “Father Time is undefeated.” Voices weaken—hands atrophy. No one performs at 70 with the vigor they did at 30. As an observer and a fan, I am okay with that. 

When I watch a concert today, my experience is a pastiche of past and present. I think about the images and memories associated with the music. A tree on our farm that looked like Paul Stanley’s poofy mane, or my prom date saying she liked the drums on Appetite for Destruction, or how my best friend got a speeding ticket to the opening chug of Dr. Feelgood. I think about how the music has stuck with me over the decades. I reflect on my interviews with the musicians, how they’ve changed, and how I’ve changed. I evaluate the performance of the evening, sure. However, it’s mixed up in this cocktail of emotions, which tends to mean that I am a very understanding critic.

Three or four songs in, Frehley stood in front of drummer Scot Coogan and made a horizontal cutting motion in the air in front of his throat, the universal “it’s over” gesture. Coogan is a professional and experienced vocalist, and he usually sang some of KISS’s songs on the setlist. Some vocal duties are also regularly handled by bass player Ryan Spencer Cook. Some of that sharing is normal in an Ace show. But that night seemed different, like they were adjusting on the fly.

I caught Cook exchanging eye contact with his longtime friend and bandmate, Jeremy Ashbrook. Those dudes have known each other for decades. They’re hard-working, skilled, and dedicated admirers who share the stage with their childhood idol. I cannot definitely prove what was going on in their heads. 

However, I recognized that look. It was the one family recently shared as my parents’ health declined. It was the “Did you hear what Dad just said?” glance, the “Did you see Mom not be able to change the channel?” eyebrow raise. 

There’s an orchestra pit at Iroquois that keeps the audience at a distance. Cook and Ashbrook zinged guitar picks into the second level, like ninjas in a Bruce Lee movie. Ace’s guitar picks fluttered, hesitated, and fell into the pit before reaching any fans. 

His guitar performance meandered. There were moments of flash and excitement, but most of it was sloppy. Ace Frehley was never about precision. He had no pretensions about being a schooled and studied virtuoso. He joked in interviews that if he had known he would influence so many musicians, he would have practiced harder. He was Keith Richards or Joe Walsh, more about swagger and simply cool than sweeping picking arpeggios. However, that performance struck me as sloppy sloppy, not cool sloppy.

When he launched the opening crunch of “God of Thunder” before surprisingly transitioning to his solo hit “Back in the New York Groove”, I had moved from the front row to the back of the amphitheater. I was leaving early, but so was Frehley. Before I completely exited the venue, he told the crowd that the set was being cut short, but I couldn’t hear his explanation. Online, some fans said it was because Slaughter’s set ran long. Others claimed it was because he was sick. 

Others, of course, went straight to the “He’s drunk again” and “That’s embarrassing.” It is the internet, of course. 

As I lay in my hotel bed and read the comments and reviews, I didn’t feel anger. Frehley claimed to be sober, and I had no reason to doubt him. I think hard work and dedication to performance are positive, so I’m not going to tell anyone they need to quit. YouTube and social media make it easy to gauge how well an older artist is performing, so I don’t feel sorry for anyone who complains about being financially exploited. You know what you’re getting if you buy a ticket to Motley Crue or Stephen Pearcy of Ratt in 2025. 

Weirdly, I was grateful. I felt like that Ace Frehley show demonstrated that it was time for me to stop chasing these musicians around the country. God bless them all who continue to perform. The fans who choose to see them should cherish every note they play. I just decided not to do it anymore. I didn’t want to see any more decline, any more descent, but that was my decision and mine alone.