Grow up!
It’s strange how some people react to such an innocent thing such as the latest Star Trek movie: On the board of an Austrian daily newspaper, someone actually advised people to “grow up”, another one stated that things like Star Trek are “for daft people or immature girls and boys but never for a thinking person”. Wow. Such arrogance always astounds me while at the same time I cannot help but grin, shake my head and pity the poor person who wrote this. Not because they might miss out on a great movie (I haven’t seen it yet) but because their level of tolerance is very, very low. Because they live in a world completely revolving about acting all grown up. Because they obviously have lost their imagination. Because they come across as very bitter, very grumpy persons who have not much fun in their lives – or who have a very different concept of fun. And because I detest people who think theirs is the only valid opinion, people who feel obliged to tell others what to do, how to behave.
Don’t get me wrong: It’s okay if someone doesn’t like Star Trek. Or Star Wars. Or Indiana Jones. You name it. Different opinions are valuable, and let’s face it: If every person on this planet would have the same taste in movies, music, books… the world would become a very boring place. So different opinions and tastes are a good thing. However, what I cannot tolerate are people telling me to grow up simply because I happen to like something they cannot or do not want to understand, something they don’t approve of. I simply fail to see how not watching X-Men-movies or Die Hard makes me less of an adult, how painting my face when going to a Kiss concert is childish behaviour, how playing computer games is only for kids and teens. A guy I knew once told me he doesn’t approve of me playing computer games – mind you, he wasn’t my boyfriend, just an acquaintance I got along quite well with. I still think he had other intentions but whatever tiny chance he had with me, he smashed with that comment. Even if I don’t approve of another person’s hobby, who am I to tell them I think they’re wasting their time? Who, on earth, determines how an adult person should act? Who determines how a person my age – 35 – is supposed to behave? Is there a rule that prevents people my age from going to heavy metal concerts or playing computer games? No? Thought so.
Our little Pussycat – Kiss Alive 35
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 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.
The Musical Disease
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.
