Can a Flop Be Unavoidable? The Case of Kiss’s *Hotter Than Hell*
Well, gather ’round, my funky music fans! Today, we’re diving deep into the chocolate fountain of rock history—specifically, the infamous *Hotter Than Hell* by Kiss. Now, if you think about Kiss, you picture flamboyant costumes, outrageous makeup, and the kind of theatrics that’d make Barnum and Bailey jealous, right? But back in 1974, they were regarded as just a bunch of clowns throwing glitter at the wall and hoping something stuck. Spoiler alert: it didn’t stick right away.
The Madness Behind the Music
Let’s set the scene: *Hotter Than Hell* was birthed amidst a whirlwind of madness and ambition. Picture this—it’s 1974, and while most bands are busy springing into the limelight, Kiss is out there dreaming big. Their debut album might have flopped harder than a fish out of water, complete with Life on the Road tales that would make a seasoned truck driver cringe. They were playing gigs for ten people and living off a diet of junk food that, let’s be honest, would make any health nut faint.
But here’s the rub: with empty pockets to match their empty speaker cabinets, they had to do what every rock star does when backed into a corner—write and record their sophomore effort in a frenzy of inspiration during a Californian tour. I mean, you can see Ace Frehley trying to press his luck with a light pole. Not to mention, Paul Stanley’s guitar was stolen faster than you can say “Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!”
A Sound Like No Other
Critics at the time heralded *Hotter Than Hell* as a bootleg-like disaster. But what do they know? This raw, gritty sound—complete with moments where it sounds like the band was tuning their instruments while recording—is now considered one of the first examples of lo-fi rock. It was a crystal ball moment, predicting the rise of punk and DIY sounds. Listen closely to *Comin’ Home* and tell me it doesn’t have a punky, rebellious spirit just waiting to explode!
Fast forward, and you’ve got *Hotter Than Hell* creating waves in genres you wouldn’t even dream it was related to. Proto-grunge? Check. Stoner rock? Oh, definitely. And thrash metal? Just look at Dave Mustaine of Megadeth—he practically wears this album as a badge of honor! It’s like a rock ‘n’ roll buffet where every dish is a winner, yet somehow Kiss ended up with the burnt toast of the family.
The Art and The Party
The cover, designed by none other than John Van Hamersveld—yes, the same genius behind the *Magical Mystery Tour* artwork—was a bold homage to Japanese manga. Back in the day, sprinkling a bit of Japan onto your album cover was the ticket to creating instant exoticism. And let’s not overlook the back cover, where the band frolics with a quite unusual entourage. Naked masked women and a party atmosphere made Versailles look like a kindergarten tea party. The only thing missing was a goat. Wait…
From Flop to Future
So what happens when the album flops? Ha! You rather ingeniously return to the studio. Kiss dusted themselves off and produced *Dressed to Kill* in ten days. A more polished effort, sure, but it was the live album *Alive!* later that year that propelled them into the stratosphere. Funny how things work out in the end, isn’t it? What was once considered a flop—*Hotter Than Hell*—would go on to be certified gold by 1977! That’s right, the same album that got a big fat “meh” became a stepping stone for one of the most iconic bands.
Final Thoughts: Rock’s Dirty Little Secret
In conclusion, let’s celebrate flawed brilliance! *Hotter Than Hell* taught us that rock isn’t about being pretty or polished; it’s about raw energy and imperfection. The world of music is a peculiar one where flops can become legends, and every bad hair day might just be the start of a viral trend. So, the next time you hear someone say rock needs to be squeaky clean, remember *Hotter Than Hell*. Because it’s the dirt under the fingernails that often holds the best memories.
And in the wise words of Kiss themselves, “Let Me Go, Rock and Roll!” There’s no better anthem for those who dare to dream, even when the recording industry thinks they’ve just hit rock bottom.
Can a flop be unavoidable? Of course it can: what doesn’t seem to work at the moment may over time prove not only prophetic, but also imitated and loved by the masses. In this case we are talking about an album born from the mind of a band that we now praise as fundamental, but which at the time, 1974, was seen by the upper echelons of the recording industry as no more and no less than a group of clowns: Kiss.
L’album, Hotter Than Hellis the second of their long discography and was born in a smoothie of madness and ambition: more than on excesses – however notable – Kiss push the accelerator on dreams of rock’n’roll (to quote Liga) distilled in purity . Becoming rock stars by breaking out of the niche of gigs for ten people, van tours eating junk food, circus stage tricks and seeming like the next big thing despite the fact that the very loud amplifiers were actually made up of empty speakers just like their pockets becomes an absolute priority.
With the debut album on Casablanca and the shows based on pyrotechnic effects, fake blood, rafts and faces made up like almost comic book characters (it is no coincidence that in 1978 they tried to sell themselves as superheroes in the film as embarrassing as it was cult Kiss Meets the Phantom of the Parkfilmed in a clear state of alteration and therefore in our opinion incredible) had done nothing but antagonize the majors. In particular, the managers of Warner, which distributed Casablanca: horrified by the noisy live shows and the painted faces, they ordered to terminate the distribution contract if they did not apply a facial cleanser and abandon their aesthetics. The band’s outright refusal will bring Casablanca to its knees financially. Warner was serious and tore up the deal without much trouble.
Kiss necessarily have to insist on their project, also because the debut album, commercially, didn’t go anywhere despite the historical songs it contains (you know Deuce? E Cold Gin? I think it’s enough to make you understand what we’re talking about) and despite life on the road, which still helps the quartet to be talked about for their powerful shows. The four go off the rails, clock up miles and while on tour near Los Angeles they are forced by lack of money to write new songs on the fly and record the second album.
The idea is the one attempted in the debut: being able to recreate the impact of the concerts. A task that seems very difficult, and the first album bears witness to this, but the production team – namely Kenny Kerner and Richie Wise – is reconfirmed, with commendable stubbornness. Being in LA, for people used to New York, doesn’t help the mood, on the contrary. Paul Stanley’s guitar is immediately stolen as soon as he sets foot in the area, Wise is stunned by the change of perspective and the overwork that takes his breath away. A dead-drunk Ace Frehley tests the speed of his car in the Hollywood Hills by pressing himself against a light pole and splitting his head open, so much so that in order not to show the stitches he can only apply make-up to the right side of his face in the last few moments. photoshoot for the cover.
This general psychological state of confusion will forcefully impact on the sound of the album, at the time – and for many even today – considered of poor quality, almost a bootleg. The critics, unanimous in this examination and short-sighted, almost convinced the authors of the album themselves that they had made a false step. Actually Hotter Than Hellwith its raw and “rotten” sound and with moments in which the instruments even seem out of tune, represents one of the first examples of lo-fi, anticipating punk and its DIY sound (the riffs of Comin’ Homedo we want to talk about Pistols?).
Ma Hotter Than Hell it’s not just this: it goes even further, becoming in all respects an example of proto grunge (just think of the “crunched” sounds of Parasitewhich they remember Bleach of Nirvana, big fans of the quartet), of stoners (Got to Choose e Watchin’ Youa pioneer of the genre) and sludge. The Melvins, devoted to the cult of Kiss, owe practically everything to this album, characterized by songs with slowed bpm (Goin’ Blindwith its delirious lyrics about a love affair between a ninety-three-year-old and a sixteen-year-old, will become a highlight not only of the repertoire of King Buzzo’s band, but also of Dinosaur Jr.) so much so that Frehley himself, listening to the album again, thought he had recorded it more fast, and with sounds – including drums – that are not difficult to compare to certain treatments by Steve Albini.
Furthermore, they pave the way for metal, so much so that a master of thrash like Dave Mustaine of Megadeth confesses that Hotter That Hell it was their training ground for «pushing things beyond the limit» (Parasite of Frehley speaks clearly). And that’s not to say that the album’s murky sound didn’t directly influence black metal: facepainting aside, Kiss were decidedly annoying compared to everything “hard” that was being produced musically around that period, and Hotter Than Hell paradoxically, in its evident and proud imperfection, it indicates the way. Even some noise rock: just listen to Ace’s thunderous solo in the closing track Strange Wayshallucinating and smelling of no wave ante litteram, to understand that from this moment on things will no longer be the same.
The cover, curated by none other than John Van Hamersveld (the cover of Magical Mystery Tour of the Beatles?), is a singular nod to Japanese manga complete with scattered kanji, in a period in which the Land of the Rising Sun represented pure exoticism (avant-garde here too, given that now if you don’t place something Japanese on the covers you are nobody). It was also an equally singular “nudge” to the right-thinking, given that on the back cover next to a “kissing” kabuki mask there are photos of the four bandmates intent on frolicking in a highly toxic party, with naked masked women and poses that leave no room for doubt (Paul Stanley will be dragged off the set on his shoulders because he’s cooked to perfection, while Peter Criss will lose consciousness only to absentmindedly recover it and discover with amazement of receiving fellatio from a nice guest with a satanic goat mask on her head).
The cover shows an insight into the state of mind of the four, entangled in the Californian dolce vita, but already with their sights set on conquering the world (Japan will greatly appreciate this graphic, which will help increase its popularity in the country). The album, however, will not satisfy these ambitions, if possible doing worse than the previous one in terms of ranking. Penalized by the contract canceled by Warner and therefore by the absence of promotion, they are unable to even place the single Let Me Go, Rock and Rolla kind of hard big name in the history of classic rock who had all the skills to make a splash.
The failure will motivate Kiss even more, who will soon return to the studio once again, creating in just ten days Dressed to Kill. Partially self-produced due to the semi-bankruptcy of Casablanca and more “listenable”, it will revive their fortunes and then arrive at the triumph of Alive!again in the same year, 1975. A live album was exactly what was needed, with the recording of the direct sound so sought after in Hotter Than Hell finally the band finds the square. But be careful, Alive! it’s a fake live album: Kiss have confessed to having made numerous overdubs to reinforce the album, a practice they started for the first time with Hotter Than Hellwhich confirms itself as a very important step in the band’s career, also and above all for the studio experiments. Not only that: Hotter which had been considered an economic hole at the time of its release, will be certified gold in 1977, not surprisingly the year of punk, of which it is certainly one of the precursor albums, leaving everyone stunned.
When they tell you that rock must be well produced, don’t believe them: Hotter Than Hell on its anniversary it reminds us that rock is not a package of supermarket soap, but that healthy dirt that doesn’t go away even after fifty pop washes.
