Monday, May 12th, 2008 A.D., will forever be one of the most memorable days in my life. Because for the first time ever (and probably for the last time, given their age) I’ve seen KISS live on stage. It’s been over ten years since the band favoured Europe with a tour; since they’re celebrating their 35th anniversary this year, the band obviously thought it was about time to enter European stages again. And so they played in Vienna for the first time in, well, years. It was almost perfect. They blew everybody away - not only because they had lots and lots of pyrotechnics but by their sheer presence and power. Remember: These are guys in their fifties, almost sixties. I know - The Rolling Stones are much, much older. Still. I’m always impressed when guys who could be my dads have more energy and fitness than I do.
KISS played for about 2,5 hours; their setlist included the complete “Alive”-album - those of you who are familiar with the album know what gems are featured on it. Starting with Deuce and Strutter from their first album, the band played classic after classic, including Hotter than Hell, Firehouse, Parasite, C’mon and Love Me, Rock Bottom and Black Diamond. Of course, we also got to hear Rock and Roll all Nite as well as Lick it Up and Detroit Rock City. I told you: almost perfect. Almost, because good old Paul seemed to have some issues with his voice during the last bonus tracks. He didn’t manage to reach the higher-pitched sections of the songs anymore but to be honest: I was so fascinated and enthusiastic that I barely noticed.
There are lots of memorable things about this concert. Of course, Mr. Simmons spit blood and took to a little platform high above the stage, suspended only by strong wire. He spit fire as well and did, of course, the tongue thing - we got everything we expected and more. One of the coolest moments was probably all the people in the hall singing Happy Birthday for drummer Eric Singer who turned 50 that day. Sounds old for a rock musician? Au contraire - at 50, Eric is still the youngest member of the band - sort of the pet of the family. Maybe that’s why Paul kept referring to him as “our little pussycat” respectively “catboy”. Also, Eric got to sing a couple of songs which he did surprisingly well. Each member had his very own moment - Tommy Thayer got to do a long guitar solo, including him “shooting” fire from his guitar, Gene had his blood-spitting demon-moment, Eric entertained us with a drum solo. And Paul, as a special treat, also took off and floated over the heads of the audience, just to land on a small platform in the middle of the hall where he kept on performing. And he smashed his guitar while Gene and Tommy were being elevated on platforms, playing on. Yeah. Perfect entertainment and rock ‘n’ roll for only 60 euros - sounds like a lot of money but it was definitely worth it. To the very last cent. Not convinced? Here’s a video on YouTube some nice person calling himself “arashderkiller” decided to share with the rest of us:
Oh. I’ve almost forgotten the most important thing - ok, maybe not the most important but a funny thing: We decided it would be fun to paint our faces as well. Here are some pictures of what that looked like:
The first picture shows the four of us already dressed up and ready to rock; from right to left: my boyfriend Werner, my sister Steffi, our friend Andi (who refrained from painting his face due to a case of death in the family) and myself. The second picture was taken after the concert - you can probably tell by Steffi’s tired eyes. She actually chose Eric Carr’s make-up - not because she’s such a huge fan of him but because she didn’t want to look like “our little pussycat”. And Gene and Paul’s make-ups were already taken. Andi had planned to look like Ace Frehley but, as I already said, refrained from doing so in the end. But his Peter-Criss-shirt looks great as well, eh? The third picture shows Werner and me posing - yes, we’re good at it And if KISS should ever return to our stages - they announced they’d be back next year but we’ll have to wait and see - we’ll paint our faces again. Even if some bimbo should call us “superfreaks” again. To hell with it. This is KISS.
It’s spreading again, rearing its ugly head yet once more to threaten innocent bystanders and seduce its numerous fans: The Musical Disease. In case you don’t know how this diabolic sickness manifests itself: If someone starts singing cheery songs, accompanied by more or less accomplished choreografies - RUN!!! For in that case, The Musical Disease is very, very close and reaching out to you, seeking to devour and seduce you. If it succeeds, you’ll want to listen to cheery or sentimental tunes about memories, love, Jesus, wizards and such for the rest of your life. And you’ll want to express your emotions by dancing and whirling around as if you had taken some strange unknown drug that’s by no means legal.
The Musical Disease originated way back in the 19th century - yes, it’s true! The Black Crook (1899) is commonly thought to be the original virus whereas Showboat was the first musical taken seriously. The Broadway in New York played a crucial role in bringing this disease about; so did guys like Leonard Bernstein or Gene Kelly (you all know Singing in the Rain, right?). With the rousing success of television and the movies, the disease found its way into our homes and cinemas as well - titles like The Wizard of Oz or Mary Poppins come to mind. However, there is one guy who’s particulary responsible for spreading The Musical Disease - let’s just call him Andy. You see, Andy had this weird dream of making everybody sing and dance, stage ambitious productions with elaborated choreografies - and he succeeded. He gave the world touching stories like Cats, Evita, Jesus Christ Superstar and The Phantom of the Opera. By now, you might actually having started to wonder where I’m getting with all of this - shortly, I’ll reveal the shattering truth. Just be a little patient.
Where was I? Oh yes, Andy and his ambitious dreams. All of a sudden, The Musical Disease became all the rage even though it had existed for a long time already, especially in the theatres on Broadway but also in movies. Now, however, it started to spread to European theatres as well, and soon it had infected theatres all over the world. Of course, some mutations of The Musical Disease are still cool and trendy today, such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show or Hair - probably because they’re not embarrassing, have a cool story and great music whereas The Phantom of the Opera is, well, mainly about tragic love and tacky even though the novel is not. The Phantom of the Opera therefore is, among others, an excellent example of what can happen to a great story if a guy like Andy decides it needs to be staged as a mutation of The Musical Disease.
This, now, finally brings me to my main point: Virtually everything is nowadays being made into a musical. Nothing is holy. Aida, for example, has been transformed into a musical. Why? Giuseppe Verdi wrote this beautiful opera long ago; the story doesn’t need any dancing and cheesy lyrics. It especially doesn’t need Sir Elton John to tackle it. But as I said, nothing is holy, nothing is sacred. And so there are musicals about composers (Mozart), empresses (Elisabeth of Austria), cult movies (The Fearless Vampire Killers - who on earth ever thought of making that one into a musical? Dancing vampires? Hello?), equally cult books (Dracula - dancing vampires again; not even all the garlic in the world could prevent this; The Three Musketeers - singing and dancing French cardinals, warriors and royals) and, yes, historical persons. The latest addition to the never-ending list of musicals is - brace yourselves, for this is truly awful - none other than the pharaoh Tut-Ankh-Amun. Yes. Egyptian history has been turned over to The Musical Disease. I don’t dare to imagine what this might actually look like, and I will refrain from travelling to Gutenstein in Lower Austria where this latest installment of The Musical Disease will premiere in July. However, if any of you should feel inclined to do so, here’s the link (just in case you don’t believe me): http://www.festspielegutenstein.at/ I cannot help wonder what will be next: The Knights Templar - The Musical? Surely each and every one of us has always wondered what a Knight Templar in full armour might look like when singing, dancing and prancing whilst in batlle. Or how about staging World War II as a musical? Wouldn’t that be fun? No? Exactly.
I’ve stated in my posting on the “about”-page that I’m glad to have left journalism as such behind because it can be a very sickening trade. You need to talk to people who have been abused, beaten, have lost a relative, a child, a husband, have experienced catastrophes and accidents. It takes a lot to stomach such things, yet writing about the sick things happening in this world pays some people’s rents. Still, I cannot help but wonder how some people can still sleep at night; I’m not referring to journalists alone who are trying to sell a story and benefit from it. No. It’s people like you and me that show their dark side when it comes to profit.
I don’t know how many of you are familiar with the incest case of Amstetten - a man imprisoned his own daughter for 24 years, abused her and fathered seven children, three of them being held captive as well while three were allowed to live with their grandpartens (the wife obviously not knowing what was going on and buying the husband’s story that the children were left on their porch by the supposedly disappeared daughter). It’s bad enough that all the media provide us with daily reports on this ugly matter; some stick to their values and report only what they know for a fact, others - the yellow press - go very far in order to acquire more readers. But nothing is as disgusting as this, reported in an article on http://derstandard.at: Neighbours of the family are selling information and pictures of the now 42 year old woman to journalists. The article reports that an italian journalists actually paid 4,000 euros for a picture of that woman showing her as a child. Other neighbours seem to offer their balconys, windows, porches - for a “good” view on the “house of horrors” and, of course, not for free. I cannot help but wonder what makes these people tick. They insult the victims. And they have to answer the question what on earth happened to their compassion, their humanity. I know all of us need money, and probably everybody has their price and can be bought. But this is just wrong. Think about it: Would you want your picture in all the newspapers, on every single tv-screen not just in Austria but all over the world? Would you want every single gruesome detail sold to greedy media, would you want yourselves to be exposed like this? If your answer to this is yes, you might feel comfortable with people selling information and pictures related to a horrible crime. You might also want to check your values, your compassion and humanity.
But the matter is, I think, a little more complex than this. It’s not just some greedy people trying to make some profit out of a tragedy. It’s also the media’s role that needs to be looked at here. If the media weren’t so keen on giving us every tiny detail on a crime, would someone actually sell it to them? And if we, the readers and viewers, wouldn’t be so keen on devouring every detail, shivering and going “Oh dear god, how could this have happened?”, thinking that such things only happen to “the others” - if we, as consumers of media, wouldn’t demand more information and more details, would there actually be a market for it? Would journalists try to outbid themselves on information or would they be content with what the police and lawyers give them? I know that I was never comfortable with digging around in other people’s lives, with trying to dig out every gruesome detail people were willing to share. I think that maybe it’s about time for all of us to reconsider our values and to be content with what the police is passing on to journalists.
This brings me to another point: What happens if someone doesn’t behave like a victim and chooses to withhold information even though the public thinks we have a right to know everything? I can tell you: The public doesn’t approve and feels betrayed. And if that victim actually is given their own talkshow and is suspected of making money, envy raises its ugly head. In case you’re wondering what I’m referring to: It’s the case of Natascha Kampusch, also held prison in a cellar for over eight years until she managed to escape about two years ago. Kampusch, obviously an intelligent and very brave young woman, chose not to share every tiny bit of information on her years in the cellar. And the public takes this personally. No one would admit, of course, that they are eager for gruesome details. Instead, people hide their anger about being “left out” behind statements like “Oh no, she’s on tv again. Why doesn’t she leave us alone?” In fact, she does. And it’s her right to complain about journalists making up rumours about her years in the cellar or publishing pictures that show her with a guy who, according to the yellow press, can, of course, be no other than her boyfriend. It’s the public which doesn’t leave her alone because she doesn’t behave like your average victim, because she has courage and intelligence. People obviously don’t like that about victims which proves once again that the human mind can be a strange thing, working along lines that can hardly be understood. I, for my part, don’t understand it. Not at all.
Finally: The search is over. Last week, I’ve had a call that I’ve been accepted on a job I had applied for, work started on Friday, May 2nd. It feels really, really good to be part of the “working class” again, especially since it’s a job I hadn’t counted on. See, I had applied for it in January and never heard anything at all - until two weeks ago I received an e-mail out of the blue asking me if I was still interested and would like to show up for an interview. Of course I was still interested and had time for an interview which turned out to be really nice and made me feel very comfortable. Five days later, I received the call that I had been accepted. Of course, I was on cloud number 9 for the rest of the day - and I must admit I fell into some kind of shopping frenzy (you do need new clothes and shoes when starting a new job, right? )
After only two days on the job I have a feeling that this will be not only fun but very rewarding and challenging as well. I never thought that I’d work for a customer magazine, dealing with cooking recipes and articles on wellness, but you can never foresee what the future holds in store for you, can you? We’ll see how this turns out in the future but my guts tell me that it was the right decision to accept this offer - not only because the payment is a lot better than on my last job but also because the people I’m working with seem to be very nice and the job itself seems to be, as I already said, very challenging without overtaxing me by asking too much. I’m glad I’ve had almost five years of experience in journalism so now I’m ready to take on more responsibility. Hooray!
They did it again. They: that’s people who compare each and every adventure game that’s being released to one specific game. Yes, you know the one: It’s The Secret of Monkey Island. Mind you, I love the game. It’s fun. It’s entertaining. It has some of the whackiest humour and strangest puzzles I’ve ever encountered. And I’ll be the last person to take away its cult status. That status is well deserved. But I’m sick and tired of people who, when writing a review about a new adventure game - be it as professionals or simply as gamers on a board -, compare this game to MI, reaching the conclusion: “Weeelll… you know… it’s a nice game… has its moments… but it’s not as good as MI used to be…”, usually followed by some extra whining about the golden days of adventure gaming that have come to an end because, according to these people, we suffer from a complete lack of good games altogether since LucasArts and Sierra have stopped publishing great games. I agree with them that it’s a shame Sierra’s basically not existing anymore, and yes, I too would love to see more great games like MI or Gabriel Knight. I’d do anything for a fourth installment in the Gabriel Knight series, and GK3 is still my most favourite game. No other game has been able to dethrone good old Gabe but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate what game developers try to give us today; that I don’t appreciate the effort that goes into a new game, into the story, the graphics, the gameplay. I do, and some of the “modern” games (read: games that were published after the golden era) have blown me away - not as thoroughly as Mr. Knight, but some of them came pretty close.
It’s simply not true that there are no good games around nowadays. There are. You just have to open your eyes and give them a chance. Granted, the quality might have diminished a little, and there are a lot of bad games as well, but there are still those gems to be found that warm the heart of every gamer. Culpa Innata, for example, was a wonderful game, and Overclockedby House of Tales is probably the best adventure of the year 2007. So, for LeChuck’s sake, please stop whining about the golden days. They’re gone. They won’t return. But there are games waiting to be played, waiting to be appreciated for what they are. Besides, I’d really like to see a review for a game employing the same graphics, the same complicated control system, the same lack of voice acting, the same lack of graphics in the inventory, the same computerized sound as MI did. People would hate it, I’m sure of that - people hated Aurorawhich was released in 2007 but failed to provide voice acting, failed to translate inventory items. Today, this is a no-go (there are exceptions like first-person horror-adventures; Scratches comes to mind); it was ok in the early days because the means just weren’t there to do it any better. Nowadays they are there. We get the stunning graphics, we get good voice acting, we get matching sounds and music, we get more or less easy-to-use inventory and controls. And we still get the good stories.
This is pretty embarrasing, but I completely forgot about this blog - shame on me. Now it’s time to resurrect it from the dead and see if there’s more to it than a zombie-like existence (not that I have anything against zombies, quite on the contrary - great guys when you get to know them a little better).
For starters, let’s just say that it’s a nice and bright day, that I’m still unemployed (have been so for almost 3 months now) and that leaving Salzburg was probably the best decision I could have made. Vienna, my new home, has just much more to offer, and yes, it’s also a lot windier than Salzburg used to be. I’m still not quite sure what this blog is going to be about; since I’m currently playing a lot of computer games (that’s an advantage when you’re unemployed - you got all the time in the world to pursue your hobbies), I might just as well talk a little about those and scare away anybody who might accidentally stumble upon this site
Just a short note on the name of this blog: It derives from one of my favourite books, The Lions of Al-Rassan by Canadian author Guy Gavriel Kay (my personal god, as far as literature is concerned). If you haven’t read the book by now, go out there, grab a copy (or order it online) and read it. You won’t regret it, it’s great stuff, wonderful characters, intruiging storyline - no, I’m not getting paid for advertising it I’m just enthusiastic and get carried away easily when it comes to really good literature. Having said that, I think Mr. Kay’s books might also make great adventure games… you can tell that clearly I’m playing far too many of those games. Currently, I’m trying to solve the mystery of The Awakened - it’s a Sherlock Holmes adventure (usually, I’m not really into detective stories) dealing with a mysterious, and, yes, dangerous Cthulhu sect trying to resurrect The Great One. So far, I’ve come across a wonderful statue of good old Cthulhu:
Isn’t he just adorable? Cthulhu’s Mini-Me, cast in silver, was lying on the floor, just waiting for Mr. Holmes to grab it. The great detective, however, has so far failed to connect the statue, the strange poetry and the even stranger tattooed guy in Switzerland to the name of Cthulhu; in fact, the name hasn’t been spoken yet in the game. I guess there are just no Lovecraft books around Baker Street - which isn’t surprising since the game is set in 1894 and HP Lovecraft wrote the bulk of his works in the 1930s. More on the game after I’ve finished it.
The third picture shows Werner and me posing - yes, we’re good at it 
And if KISS should ever return to our stages - they announced they’d be back next year but we’ll have to wait and see - we’ll paint our faces again. Even if some bimbo should call us “superfreaks” again. To hell with it. This is KISS.
