On Saturday, July 6, 2012 we performed the music of Kiss and Queen at the Brott Festival in Hamilton, Ontario.
For many years now I have been hanging onto a giant pair of platform boots… utterly perfect for the occasional Kiss concert! Naturally I packed the behemoths for this latest extravaganza. The only trouble is, they ain't dainty. If you're bringin' the Kiss boots, everything else you need to bring had better be dollsized, or inflatable, or expandable by water, 'cause once those puppies are packed, not much else is getting in that suitcase.
Upon arrival for the Hamilton show, I noticed that there was a crack in the sole of the right giant, across the bottom. In a search for any kind of strong glue, during soundcheck I casually mentioned my cracked sole (soul?) to a nice man on the tech crew at the theatre (whom, to my mind, closely resembled David Bowie as Andy Warhol in the movie "Basquiat"), and lo and behold, the nice man included shoe glue in his trip on a run to the gaff tape store, or some such… and he glued my sole back together for me to find after dinner break. Fabulous!! Like magic. Rock 'n roll. Jeans 'n Classics.
Confident in my Kiss-Boot-Ness, I prepared for showtime.
Here was my Confident Kiss-Boot Look:
(And here is Katalin Kiss * and myself, right before the show):
[* no relation to the band Kiss, apart from rocking just as hard if not harder]
And then the fun began.
My concern before the show was all about the right foot, the one with the glue. How wrong was I. Imagine my surprise when bits of rubble began to erupt from Mr. Left Boot. My Right-boot worries were not ill-founded, though. Not to be outdone, the Right guy began belching six inch pieces of wasted rubber and plastic particles.
Talk about a wardrobe malfunction... my man-made wonders were giving way in an increasingly spectacular public display of spent glory. By the time we got to Detroit Rock City, their days were truly numbered. I stood teetering on an ever-changing precarious core of What Left Remaining. My dear friend Katalin and I were dodging bits from the blast, as the boots continued to detonate. Thank goodness for the large monitor speakers at our feet. If not for them, the audience would have had no shielding from the Exploding Boots.
And let's face it, it was not entirely inappropriate given the theme of the night! Who needs Pyro, when you've got the Exploding Boots?!
I staggered off for intermission. The stage needed to be swept between sets. The string section was forced to gingerly step between the bits of wreckage to leave the stage.
I was very grateful indeed to step into my new spike heel blank ankle booties for the Queen set.
RIP, Kiss boots. You Gave Rock & Roll To Me. You don't owe me a thing. It's been fun.
(Photos courtesy of Jeff Christmas.)
PS: For the true story of how I met Gene Simmons, click here: