Kiss, "Comin' Home"

20 Days to Find a Home



I love Kiss Unplugged. In as dazzling a stunt as any they ever pulled, Kiss latched onto the MTV Unplugged trend and not only didn't embarrass themselves, but came up with their best album since Alive II (and at this rate, their last great new album). Taking cues from the best MTV Unplugged appearances, like Nirvana and Alice in Chains, Kiss eschewed a greatest hits set to focus on their songs that sounded best on acoustics. One wouldn't think that any of their songs (save for "Hard Luck Woman," which they don't even play here) would sound best unplugged, but Kiss took the opportunity to show how suprisingly rich and diverse their catalogue is, from the bizarre, tender and creepy "Goin' Blind" to the relaxed "Sure Know Something" to a song from the concept album everyone wanted to forget ("A World Without Heroes", co-written by Bob Ezrin and Lou Reed??). Kiss didn't have much to prove in 1995, but they were still hungry, and they proved that they didn't need fire, blood, flying, grease paint or explosions to put on a great show.

They opened with "Comin' Home", a deep cut from Hotter than Hell, which probably seemed strange at the time but now looks prescient. Kiss were comin' home to their place as being the biggest band in the universe. A few minutes after "Comin' Home," Ace and Peter would be back onstage with Gene and Paul, each singing their own verse of "Rock and Roll All Nite," and over the next two years they'd be back onstage together, headlining the highest-grossing world tour of 1996 and 1997. The underdogs on Kiss Unplugged evaporated, but thankfully we got a great picture of them on "Comin' Home."

KISS, "Love Theme from KISS"

Daft Punk's Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo recently revealed that the first song that his band ever played in public was a instrumental deep cut for a band that's usually not appreciated for their instrumentals or their deep cuts.



That's a shame, because "Love Theme from KISS" is a neat little song, and the only one to be credited to all four original members of KISS. It feels improvised but still sounds tight, like a perfect blend of Ace Frehley's creativity and Gene Simmons' leash. The main riff could easily carry a longer song, but in 1974 KISS were still taking risks, and they were right to keep it short. Simmons and Paul Stanley would later decide it was in their own best interest to fire Frehley and Peter Criss, replacing them with better players who did less drugs. But comparing something as organic as this to "Hell or Hallelujah," one can hear who really suffered from those decisions.

Beth

Slayer, "Raining Blood"

Heaping praises on Reign in Blood is akin to bringing coals to Newcastle. It's almost ubiquitous on Best of Metal lists, and outside of Metallica's first four albums, it's the only thrash metal release that people who don't usually like metal own. But with Dave Lombardo being replaced over a silly contract dispute (it doesn't whose story about the terms you believe--there's no sane reason that an able Dave Lombardo shouldn't be in this band) this week, I'm going back to one of metal's only flawless tracks.



Several bloggers have already compared Half-Slayer (guitarist Jeff Hanneman is still recovering from an incapacitating spider bite) to KISS without Ace and Peter, but this is actually much worse. For all that the original KISS lineup is, the band doesn't compromise any of their nonexistent integrity by breaking up. Slayer has almost epitomized metal's integrity over the past few decades. Despite a few questionable business decisions, they've been the same straight-ahead, thrash-out-and-leave-the-room force of nature for almost 30 years.

The steady, ominous drumming that introduces "Raining Blood" is as iconic as any sound in metal. Lombardo's pacing isn't to take a breath, but to build suspense, which pays off at the infamous "In the Hall of the Mountain King"-emulating riff ("duh-nuh-nuh, nuh-nuh-nuh") that kicks in around the :33 mark. When it does, Lombardo steps right back into the war zone, directing the progression that a South Park would later honor as the ultimate hippie buzz-killer.

I once saw a pre-stardom Lamb of God open for Slayer, stepping up to one of metal history's greatest honors and challenges. Shortly before they closed, Lamb of God held a note and let Chris Adler drum the intro to "Raining Blood." "You all know why we're all here," Randy Blythe bellowed. He could have been talking to the crowd, or to any extreme metal fan in the cosmos, but he didn't need to say anything else.