Growing up in the vibrant streets of the Bronx, Paul Frehley faced a common dilemma for aspiring musicians: how to stand out as a guitar god in a world already overflowing with them.
After years of struggling with various bands that seemed destined for obscurity, he found his calling when he joined Kiss. It was then that he adopted the iconic name Ace Frehley. He realized that raw musical talent alone wouldn’t cut it; he needed something more – a theatrical edge, a gimmick, perhaps several, to truly make his mark.
His journey to stardom actually began in his high school art classes, where he honed the graphic design skills that would prove crucial. He famously created the original Kiss logo, ingeniously shaping the final two letters into striking lightning bolts.
When the band decided to embrace makeup for their debut stage performance in January 1973, Ace was more than enthusiastic. “It didn’t bother me at all,” he once revealed in ‘Kiss: Behind the Mask.’ “I was always into wild things. The first night, I painted my face silver. The second night, I thought, ‘That’s boring. I’ll have to think up something more imaginative.’ I started painting stars on my eyes.”
These distinctive painted stars were key to transforming a mere club musician into the legendary superhero known as the Spaceman, or Space Ace. Frehley, who passed away on Thursday at 74, fully embraced this alien persona, claiming to hail from the planet Jendell in the Klaatu solar system, and often spoke playfully in interviews about his desire to escape Earth.
His bandmates—Paul Stanley, Gene Simmons, and Peter Criss—were equally committed to integrating classic show-business theatrics into their act. Paul Stanley even took on the role of an impromptu fashion designer, hand-stitching the outlandish costumes that made them appear as if they’d leaped straight from a low-budget horror or sci-fi film.
At an early Manhattan gig, Frehley and his bandmates played at deafening volumes in front of his self-designed, four-foot illuminated Kiss logo. While they hadn’t yet perfected the pyrotechnics that would later define their performances, a mishap occurred: a kid in the front row had his eyebrows singed, as documented by Will Hermes in ‘Love Goes to Buildings on Fire.’ Despite the minor incident, the audience was captivated.
Kiss emerged onto the music scene at a perfect moment. After a period dominated by introspective singer-songwriters like James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, and Paul Simon, who favored minimalist presentations, many music enthusiasts were craving something more spectacular and carnival-like.
With their distinctive comic-book aesthetic and fiery stage stunts, Kiss brought a refreshing simplicity and fun back to rock music, reminiscent of the early days of pioneers like Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent. The band’s core philosophy was perfectly encapsulated in the famous lyric from one of their most popular songs: “I wanna rock ’n’ roll all night / And party everyday.”
Initially, critics weren’t impressed. Even Lester Bangs, known for his appreciation of raw rock in publications like Creem and Rolling Stone, expressed dismay that children preferred Kiss over bands like Aerosmith.
However, as music writer Sylvie Simmons observed in a 1998 reassessment for Mojo, Kiss possessed a unique charm. She described the band as “metal bubblegum more than scary stud-rock,” responsible for “punch-along anthems with just the right pauses for the fireworks, bombs and solos.”
Embracing the spectacle, Ace Frehley achieved everything he had ever desired—a path that, predictably, led to the usual rock-star excesses. In 1981, he found himself leading a high-speed chase down the Bronx River Parkway in his DeLorean, topping 90 miles per hour, which resulted in his arrest for driving under the influence. Thankfully, no one was harmed.
By the close of the decade, he had significantly mellowed. “I really don’t race cars anymore, because that got me in trouble,” he admitted 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.”
While some artists eventually regret the compromises made for fame and fortune, Frehley found genuine joy in his Spaceman persona. He seemed most at home in his elaborate costume, complete with its sparkling V-front top and a cape straight out of Flash Gordon. For him, swapping his humble Bronx identity for something so extraordinary was unequivocally worth it.
“I was the loser, the black sheep of the family, until I joined Kiss,” he proudly declared in an interview for ‘Behind the Mask.’ “Now, I’m the big winner.”