In the bustling Bronx, a young Paul Frehley faced a daunting challenge: how to stand out as a guitar virtuoso when the rock scene was already overflowing with talent.
After years of struggling in local bands, he joined Kiss and reinvented himself as Ace Frehley. He understood that pure musical prowess wasn’t enough; to truly achieve stardom, he embraced the theatrical, readily adopting every outlandish gimmick the band envisioned.
His creative journey began long before the stage lights, stemming from a passion for art cultivated during his less-than-enthusiastic high school years. It was these graphic-design talents that first ignited his path to fame, as he famously designed the iconic Kiss logo, transforming the final two letters into electrifying lightning bolts.
When Kiss made their stage debut in January 1973, complete with theatrical makeup, Frehley was an eager participant, ready to embrace the spectacle.
“It didn’t bother me at all,” he revealed in “Kiss: Behind the Mask.” “I was always into wild things.” His initial attempt, silver face paint, quickly felt “boring.” The next night, he sought something “more imaginative,” giving birth to the iconic star-painted eyes.
Those distinctive stars on his eyes were the crucial element, transforming him from a hardworking club musician into the cosmic superhero known as the Spaceman or Space Ace. Frehley, who passed away on Thursday at 74, truly embodied this otherworldly persona, often playfully discussing his extraterrestrial origins from the planet Jendell in the Klaatu solar system and his longing for life beyond Earth.
His bandmates, Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Peter Criss, shared his zeal for integrating classic show-business theatrics into their performances. Stanley, in particular, stepped up as an unofficial costume designer, hand-stitching the outlandish outfits that gave the band its signature look, reminiscent of characters from B-grade horror or sci-fi films.
During an early Manhattan performance, Frehley and his bandmates played to a roaring crowd, amplified by the four-foot illuminated Kiss logo he’d created. While their legendary pyrotechnics were still in development, one memorable night saw a front-row fan’s eyebrows singed – a minor mishap that only seemed to further endear them to their enthusiastic audience, as chronicled by Will Hermes in “Love Goes to a Building on Fire: Five Years in New York That Changed Music Forever.”
Kiss emerged at a pivotal moment in music history. Following an era dominated by introspective singer-songwriters like James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, and Paul Simon, whose minimalist performances highlighted lyrical depth, audiences were craving a spectacular, carnival-esque experience.
Embracing a vivid, comic-book aesthetic and dazzling pyro techniques, Kiss stripped rock back to its exciting, unpretentious roots, echoing the raw energy of pioneers like Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent. Their philosophy was clear, encapsulated in one of their most famous anthems: “I wanna rock ’n’ roll all night / And party everyday.”
While critics often remained unimpressed, even rock champion Lester Bangs, known for his raw music critiques in Creem and Rolling Stone, was reportedly horrified when his own children favored Kiss over Aerosmith.
Yet, as music writer Sylvie Simmons observed in a 1998 Mojo reassessment, Kiss possessed a unique charm. She famously described them as “metal bubblegum more than scary stud-rock,” crafting catchy, “punch-along anthems” perfectly punctuated by spectacular fireworks, explosive effects, and guitar solos.
Embracing this rock and roll circus brought Frehley all the fame he desired, but also the inevitable excesses. In 1981, a high-speed chase down the Bronx River Parkway in his DeLorean led to his arrest for driving under the influence – thankfully, without injury to anyone.
By the late ’80s, Frehley had found a calmer path. “I really don’t race cars anymore, because that got me in trouble,” he confessed in a 1989 interview with Musician magazine. “For the past couple years I’ve kind of slowed down on all that nonsense and I’ve gotten into a health kick.”
Unlike some performers who later resent their chosen stage personas, Frehley genuinely reveled in his Spaceman identity. He appeared most vibrant and authentic when adorned in his dazzling V-front top and Flash Gordon-esque cape. For him, trading his humble Bronx identity for such an exotic alter ego was a deal well made.
“I was the loser, the black sheep of the family, until I joined Kiss,” he proudly stated in “Behind the Mask.” “Now, I’m the big winner.”