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It was time to go back to the beginning.
And I had found the perfect weekend to do just that, so I cleared my calendar, made plane and hotel reservations, and set off on a pilgrimage to the Pacific Northwest to see two acts that played such monumental roles in my formative years as a music fan: KISS and Bob Seger.
No, they weren’t playing a doubleheader, although longtime fans might remember that Seger did open shows for KISS back in the day. The two acts just happened to be headlining at the Moda Center — home of the NBA’s Portland Trail Blazers — on consecutive nights.
I sold it to my editor as a way to preview their high-profile farewell tours, which both have stops scheduled in Northern California. KISS plays Feb. 9 at the Golden 1 Center in Sacramento and Sept. 16 at Oracle Arena in Oakland, while Seger and his mighty Silver Bullet Band have Feb. 28 at Golden 1. (See www.livenation.com for all shows.)
Yet, my main mission was simply to spend time with two acts that sent me down the path of music appreciation that I still travel today. I needed to see KISS and Seger in concert at least one more time — not as a music critic, but as someone who was deeply impacted by their music.
Shout it loud @kissonline pic.twitter.com/mSbgvSxxvg
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 2, 2019
KISS ALIVE
Every school seemed to have a “KISS guy” back when I was growing up. And that was definitely me at Alta Vista Elementary School in Los Gatos. I wore the shirts. I had the lunchbox. I didn’t have a girlfriend.
Before KISS, I couldn’t have cared less about music. I was all about collecting comic books and watching whatever cheesy horror movies that the great Bob Wilkins was showing on the old “Creature Features” TV show. Then came along Gene Simmons, spitting blood, breathing fire and walking around on giant platform boots. He was like something out of both the comics and “Creature Features,” only he was for real.
Simmons and the rest of the original band — vocalist-guitarist Paul Stanley, drummer Peter Criss and lead guitarist Ace Frehley — served as my bridge from comics and monsters to the world of rock ‘n’ roll. I was hooked. And I soon had every inch of my room plastered in KISS posters.
The 6th grade me would be some happy, @kissonline in Portland. pic.twitter.com/kafmKUSVLa
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 2, 2019
Mind you, being a KISS fan wasn’t cool back in the day. The cool kids liked Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd. But I didn’t care, and I wasn’t alone. I was part of the KISS Army, and I carried that membership card in my velcro wallet for years.
KISS taught me how to be an uber fan, a lesson that still dictates how I experience music today. It wasn’t simply enough to love KISS — I needed everybody to know that I loved KISS. I do the same thing today, albeit minus the lunch box, with Roxy Music and a few other favorites.
It was fun to get to see KISS in Portland, even though the music doesn’t impact me in the same way it did when I was in sixth grade. Simmons still spits blood, breathes fire and such, making it easy to understand how a comic-book-reading kid from Los Gatos could fall for this band in the first place.
. @genesimmons @KISSOnline #PDX pic.twitter.com/jdYO3mkssU
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 2, 2019
What really hit me, however, was the flood of decades-old memories as I heard KISS “Shout It Loud” and run through cuts from the first two “Alive” albums. I thought of friends like Chris and Ian — the latter of whom I probably haven’t seen in 30 years — as well as April, the girl who lived right up the hill from my house, and her friends Michele and Wendy.
And right there with them was my dad, a Frank Sinatra guy who still agreed to take his son to his first KISS concert, and my mom, who loved me enough to spend countless hours listening to KISS by my side, even though Nat King Cole was more her style.
That must be the gift. Even though the music of KISS isn’t nearly as rich as it once was for me, the memories associated with it are still to be treasured.
Busy reminiscing about the days of old with @BobSeger pic.twitter.com/zdlQnvkbLA
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 3, 2019
LIKE A ROCK
If you were friends with me in high school, you listened to a lot of Bob Seger.
It’s not like you had any choice in the matter.
And not like there were any complaints either. Seger, more than any other single artist, provided the shared soundtrack for my group of high school friends. He’d be accompanied by all sorts of others on occasion, from David Bowie and Prince to Merle Haggard and the Go-Go’s, but he was the constant.
The first Seger song I heard was “Ramblin’ Gamblin’ Man” — the 1968 single credited to the Bob Seger System — and it simply blew my mind. I had been listening to mainly KISS and some of the other popular hard-rockers of the day, like AC/DC and Blue Oyster Cult, and Seger sounded nothing at all like that.
There was a whole different kind of rhythm and groove to the music — a whole different kind of soul — and it quickly became clear that I had found my new favorite artist. He shut the door on my KISS phase and opened a new one that I am still enjoying today. Yes, unlike with KISS, my infatuation with Seger’s music has stood the test of time. I might forget about him now and again, for a week or two, while I go ga-ga over R.E.M. or Joy Division. But I always come back.
Turn the Page @BobSeger pic.twitter.com/sVwGzPDvot
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 3, 2019
Listening to him onstage in Portland, it really became clear just how much his music has shaped how I experience the world to this day. I grew up listening to — memorizing and cherishing — lyrics to such songs as “Night Moves,” “Like a Rock” and “Against the Wind,” which were told with the hyper-nostalgic and reflective perspective of an older man looking back at his younger days. By the age of 13 or 14, I’d spent so much time identifying with the protagonists of those songs, trying to mimic his feelings, even though I had yet to experience nearly any of things Seger was singing about for myself.
I think that has a lot to do with why it’s so hard for me to live in the moment at times — especially at the best of times — as if I’m already longing nostalgically for a moment before it’s actually had the chance to slip away.
Rock n Roll Never Forgets @BobSeger @ModaCenter pic.twitter.com/BVwdeJDlxk
— Jim Harrington (@jimthecritic) February 3, 2019
I certainly wasn’t surprised by the rush of memories this time around. I thought about all those summer nights spent doing nothing and living large with Scott, Brian, Mirizzi, Marcy, Raul, Dixon and, yeah, of course, Pat. There were lots of laughs, a few tears, and one really good soundtrack for driving in a red Toyota truck and singing for all we we were worth.
Some of those friends are gone, some remain. But they all felt just a little bit closer as Seger sang the closing lines of “Travelin’ Man” in Portland:
Sometimes at night, I see their faces
I feel the traces they’ve left on my soul
Those are the memories that made me a wealthy soul
Tell you, those are the memories that make me a wealthy soul
And I guess that’s why I came to Portland, to say thanks for the memories.
