Kiss condoms, Kiss coffins, Kiss waffle irons, Kiss home pregnancy tests, Kiss bedpans, Kiss hamster grooming kits and approximately 1,347 Kiss greatest hits collections.
You know the only thing Kiss doesn’t offer their fans?
A bit of dignity. A measure of respect.
No band abuses their following like Gene Simmons and Co., even though they have one of the best, most die-hard fan bases imaginable. Need further proof? The group has recently said that they’re considering hiring replacements to carry on the Kiss “legacy” — i.e. intense, remorseless money grubbing — after they retire from the stage.
How unfathomably lame is that? Such a dubious move got me to thinking of some of the other all-time worst ideas in music. Read on, as the effluvium flows …
The Chopped and Screwed Remix: OK, if something has to be listened to under the influence of pulse-slowing, brain-deadening amounts of codeine-based cough syrup to make sense, chances are, it’s about as stimulating as nude photos of Walter Mathau.
Hence the chop-and-screwed remix in hip-hop, where songs are sl-o-o-o-wed down and beats are skipped until it sounds like an LP spun at 75 RPM in a tar pit of lameness.
What’s next? A rap album that you have to eat paint chips to dig?
Chris Gaines: Having made stars of such wretched pop hacks as Rascal Flatts and Carrie Underwood, country music fans deserve to have their intelligence insulted, but honestly, even that crowd wasn’t dumb enough to buy Garth Brooks’ uber hackneyed attempt at making a rock album under the Chris Gaines alter ego.
Punchless, milquetoast twaddle from the Round Mound of Redneck Sound, Gaines’ debut was rock and roll’s laugh track, an album that packed all the r ‘n’ r danger of a Nerf hand grenade.
The Ironic Cover Album: In the pantheon of Really, Really Funny Stuff, the ironic cover album ranks right up there with “White Chicks,” nuclear holocaust and those farting noises you made under your armpit in junior high.
Pat Boone warbling through heavy metal songs. Har! Paul Anka schmaltzing up Oasis tunes. Guffaw! Seriously, this crap sends laughter to the gas chamber.
The 360 Deal: If the dude at the McDonald’s drive-thru window can’t get your order straight, you don’t go to the guy for a colonoscopy, now do ya?
But this is what some dunderheaded artists essentially are doing with this new type of deal, where bands part with a portion of their most reliable and profitable forms of income — merchandise sales, touring revenue — to flagging record companies because they can no longer do their jobs or serve much of a purpose.
What a deal! Does it come with a free kick in the crotch, per chance?
Jason Bracelin’s “Sounding Off” column appears on Tuesdays. Contact him at 702-383-0476 or e-mail him at jbracelin@ reviewjournal.com.