The 500 - #156 - Paul's Boutique - Beastie Boys

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #156
Album Title: Paul's Boutique

Artist: Beastie Boys

Genre: Hip Hop, Sampledelia

Recorded: 3 Studios in Los Angeles, U.S.A.

Released: July, 1989

My age at release: 24
How familiar was I with it before this week: Quite

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #125, rising 31 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Shake Your Rump

In January, 1996, I was rumbling alone along a remote Northern Ontario highway in my weathered 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier. To the right, under the quiet gleam of the winter moon, rose the Canadian Shield -- a timeless sweep of granite and snow, like something lifted from a Group of Seven canvas. The earth’s ancient bones jutted through drifts of white, stoic and scarred.

Franklin Carmichael's Mirror Lake (1929).

To the left, glimpses of Lake Superior’s frozen shoreline appeared now and then between dark ranks of boreal pine, each sighting brief but breathtaking. I'd left London, Ontario, the day before and was heading back to Lakehead University in Thunder Bay after the Christmas break – 1,400 kilometers northwest, deeper into winter’s grasp.

A familiar route between my home in Southwestern Ontario to

 Lakehead University

My companion on the long drive wasn’t just the road -- it was the pile of cassette tapes scattered across the passenger seat. Among them were familiar favorites that had seen me through many a stretch of this 15-hour journey: Naveed, the debut from Toronto's Our Lady Peace; Superunknown by Soundgarden; Radiohead’s The Bends; Purple by Stone Temple Pilots; Pearl Jam's Ten; and the soundtrack to Kevin Smith’s slacker cult classic, Mallrats.

But there was one newcomer in the mix -- a cassette I’d borrowed from my Teachers College roommate, Randy. It was Paul’s Boutique by the Beastie Boys, and as I switched from cassette to cassette shortly after passing Wawa, Ontario, I had no idea just how weird, and stressful, the ride was about to get.

Some of my favourite listens from 1995.

As I mentioned in my March 2024 blog post about the Beastie Boys' debut album, Licensed to Ill (#219 on The 500), it took me some time to appreciate the group's clever approach to hip-hop. Initially, I dismissed them as brash, frat-boy rock with a misogynistic edge. But over time, I began to understand their humor and artistry, quietly becoming a fan -- though never to the point of buying their records.

That changed when Randy played Paul's Boutique in the college townhouse we shared with two other Teacher College students, Craig and Brendan. From the first listen, I knew something was different. The band had dramatically evolved their sound, and while I didn’t yet grasp the full extent of their creative journey, I recognized that this was something entirely new -- something that piqued my curiosity.

Beastie Boys (1989) (l-r) Michael "Mike D" Diamond,
Adam "MCA" Yauch, and Adam "Ad-Rock" Horovitz

In the three years since the release of License To Ill, the group had matured. They had moved from New York to Los Angeles, intent on making a record with more creative depth. Paul's Boutique embraced a more sophisticated, sample-heavy production style. They collaborated with production duo The Dust Brothers to create a layered, funk-driven sound. The result was a record that was built around more than 100 music samples, taken from jazz, rock, soul and disco. Their lyrics had evolved too. While Licensed to Ill leaned into juvenile humor and rowdy anthems, Paul’s Boutique showcased more intricate wordplay and storytelling.

The Dust Brothers (l-r) Michael "E.Z. Mike" Simpson
and John "King Gizmo" King in their studio (2005).

I can’t recall which cassette was playing as I piloted my Chevy Cavalier along an isolated stretch of the Trans-Canada Highway near Terrace Bay, Ontario. But I do remember the sudden, unmistakable sound of a flat tire, flapping against the snow-covered asphalt like a rubber death rattle. I pulled over, stepped out into the biting cold, and made my way to the rear. The driver’s side, back tire had blown. With numb fingers, I began emptying the trunk, shifting my belongings, destined for my campus townhouse, just to reach the car jack and spare tire buried underneath. I worked quickly, hoisting the car into position, pausing briefly to breathe warmth onto my frozen fingers.

There is only one thing worse than a flat tire. That’s two simultaneous flat tires, in the dead of night, stranded in winter on a remote Ontario highway. And that was my fate, with two flats on the rear axel of my car. In the 4 a.m. frigid blackness, it was a nightmare scenario. I had only one spare, and it had been a while since a vehicle had passed me. In a time before cell phones, I was stranded, truly alone.

A gray, 1990 Chevrolet Cavalier, similar to the one I owned in 1995.

I lowered the car onto its rims and climbed inside, wrapping myself in the comforting warmth of the cabin. A dozen minutes passed in graveyard silence as I watched snow sweep indifferently across the highway. Suddenly, headlights appeared in the rearview mirror. I stepped out, my hazard lights flashing, desperately hoping to catch the attention of this passing motorist.  A mini-van slowed and pulled onto the shoulder. The passenger window rolled down, and after a brief explanation, I found myself onboard with a family of four and their dog. The children slept soundly in the back while the husband and wife told me they were returning to Edmonton, Alberta, after spending Christmas in Toronto with relatives. A short time later, they dropped me at a Husky Service Station, where, thankfully, I was able to call the Canadian Automobile Association (CAA) to arrange for a tow-truck, my membership proving invaluable.

The Husky Service Station near Nipigon, Ontario.

Relistening to Paul’s Boutique in preparation for this blog tugged me back to that ill-fated, cross-province journey -- a trip I hadn’t mentally revisited in years. The details coalesced into a memory as vivid, as if it had just happened. Funny how music works. No matter how much time passes, the Beastie Boys’ second record remains forever linked to that highway event as if etched into the soundtrack of that frosty and wind-swept stretch of highway.

Looking back, it all feels far less nightmarish than it did in the moment -- less an ordeal and more an unexpected, youthful adventure. As they say, time plus tragedy usually equals a "funny" story, and with enough distance, even the worst frights become tales worth telling.

Addendum
In the summer of 2018, while visiting New York City with my wife, we found ourselves near the corner of Rivington and Ludlow streets, the original location used for the Paul’s Boutique album cover. It was actually a fictional store. The band had hung a sign over an existing clothing shop called Lee’s Sportswear. Excited, I snapped the photo below. It wasn’t until later that I realized I had photographed the wrong corner – the actual location is partially visible to the right, across the street. Doh!

The 500 - #157 - Closer - Joy Division

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #157
Album Title: Closer

Artist: Joy Division

Genre: Post Punk, New Wave, Gothic Rock

Recorded: Britannia Row Studios, Islington, England

Released: July, 1980

My age at release: 15
How familiar was I with it before this week: A little

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #309, dropping 157 spots
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Isolation

It’s easy to forget just how emotionally intense the teen-age years can be. Even after three decades teaching middle schoolers, I can still be caught off guard by young people’s unpredictable mood swings, impulsive decisions, and the waves of angst or apathy that seem to crash over them without warning. Sometimes, it takes a few deep breaths -- or even a good night’s sleep -- to move past the frustration and extend grace to these kids, who are often at the mercy of their hormonal tempests. On days like that, I find solace in music. A record like Closer, the haunting final album from Manchester’s Joy Division, helped me reconnect with the raw emotions that once defined my own adolescence. It reminds me where they’re coming from -- and, in a way, where I came from too.

My teen-age years were steeped in darkness and worry. I cycled through identities like sweaters -- trying each one on, hoping it would fit without itching. Most didn’t. I’d walk the school halls with my ears cloaked by headphones, the music louder than the world around me. Some days, I was defiant in class. I would challenge ideas, naively confident that I’d brilliantly uncovered some truth my English teacher had overlooked -- despite his degrees and decades teaching the same four novels. Other days, I'd sit in silence, brooding and distant, quietly hoping the pretty girl across the room would find something poetic in my storm-cloud demeanor.

Teen-age sleep patterns, we now recognize, are plagued by nightly battles between biology and responsibility, brains hardwired for nocturnal adventures, doomed to morning misery. My interests in literature, humour and media soon became as dark as the bags under my eyes. Nothing was off limits and my fascinations moved from dark, dystopian science fiction to vulgar comedy. One night, I might be rewatching a screening of A Clockwork Orange, The Shining or Eraserhead at our local repertoire cinema and the next I would be riding the bus reading off-colour jokes and biting satire in a National Lampoon magazine.

Despite my penchant for the macabre and the absurd, I was never teetering on the edge of delinquency or genuine darkness -- I had a firm grasp of right and wrong. My fascination with dystopian nightmares, crude humor, and provocative ideas wasn’t a sign of some deep disturbance; it was a performance, a way to carve out an identity that felt sharp, witty, and just rebellious enough to be intriguing. The paperback Truly Tasteless Jokes was also in my arsenal. It was a collection of disturbingly dark jokes designed to provoke laughter, discomfort, or admiration -- sometimes all at once. Because, in the strange social economy of teen-age boys, the ability to shock was its own form of currency, a way to seem cooler, sharper, a little more mysterious than it really was. It wasn’t about corruption; it was about style.

Joy Division were also exploring existential themes at about the same time I was discovering National Lampoon magazines, George Carlin, Redd Foxx and Richard Pryor records, and The Tasteless Jokes Book. The band's members were about ten years older than me and their group emerged from the punk scene in the late 1970s. They formed in Salford, England -- part of the Greater Manchester region -- and, after a few line-up changes, comprised Ian Curtis (vocals), Bernard Sumner (guitar), Peter Hook (bass), and Stephen Morris (drums).

Joy Division (l-r) Morris, Curtis, Sumner, Hook.

Originally, they called themselves Warsaw, a tribute to one of their heroes, David Bowie, and his haunting instrumental song Warszawa from the 1977 record Low (#251 on The 500). However, they changed their name to avoid confusion with a London punk band called The Warsaw Pact. Rather than reverting to their original name, Stiff Kittens, they opted for Joy Division -- a name that, despite sounding upbeat, carried a far darker symbolism. "Joy Division" refers to a inhuman period of World War II history -- the name assigned to groups of women in Nazi concentration camps who were forced into sexual slavery. They were subjected to horrific conditions and brutal exploitation, serving Nazi officers and soldiers at the death camps.

Adult female prisoners were separated from men and sorted
into workforces at Auschwitz camp. Picture from a Daily Mail
article The Auschwitz Brothel.

The band chose their name as a provocative recognition of its atrocious origins. However, their decision to feature a sketch of a Hitler Youth on the cover of their first EP, An Ideal For Living, fueled the controversy, with allegations that the members were Nazi sympathizers.

At that time, Joy Division's music began to change. Their early sound was raw and aggressive, but they evolved into something darker and more atmospheric. Their macabre, gothic sonic aesthetic was shaped by post-punk minimalism and stark production quality. Furthermore, singer Curtis' lyrics became deeply introspective and explored themes of isolation, despair and existential dread.

In part, this was the influence of the books he was reading, which included works from Franz Kafka, Fyodor Dostoevsky and J.G. Ballard. However, Curtis was also struggling with depression and late onset epilepsy -- both exacerbated by his drug and alcohol use. In 1978, Curtis began to experience frequent seizures, which sometimes occurred on stage. The medication he took to manage his affliction had intense side effects, contributing to his struggles with depression and emotional detachment.

Curtis, performing with Joy Division in Rotterdam (1979).

Joy Division's intense touring schedule in late 1979 and early 1980 to support their first album, Unknown Pleasures, was additionally detrimental to Curtis' physical and mental health. Moreover, his marriage to Deborah Woodruff was heading to divorce just a few months after the birth of their daughter, Natalie, in April, 1979. In the early morning hours of May 18, 1980, Curtis took his own life. He was 23.

The group's final record, Closer, was released two months after Curtis' death. It is widely regarded as a post-punk masterpiece and feels like an unsettling farewell from the band's singer and lyricist. His words feel claustrophobic and painfully introspective, with the songs The Eternal and Decades sounding almost funereal, while Isolation and Heart and Soul seem to pulse with a cold, detached energy.

The opening track, Atrocity Exhibition, was based on a book by the same name from English satirist and writer J.G. Ballard. The 1970 novel is a collection of experimental stories that explore themes of violence, media manipulation, and psychological breakdown. Ballard is best known for his novel Crash (1973) about a group of car crash fetishists who are sexually aroused by reenacting famous celebrity vehicular accidents, including those of Jayne Mansfield and James Dean. Crash was made into an Oscar-winning film in 2004 featuring an ensemble cast of Hollywood A Listers -- directed by London, Ontario, native Paul Haggis.

Movie poster for Crash (2004).

Though I was drawn to the macabre and the unsettling in high school, I wasn’t truly immersed in the material.-- I was playing a part, experimenting with identity and testing the boundaries of what seemed dark and clever. Had I paid attention, I probably would have connected deeply with Joy Division’s lyrics, but back then it wasn’t about sincerity -- it was about performance. Ian Curtis, however, wasn’t performing. His struggles were real, woven into every word he sang.

Lyrics from Love Will Tear Us Apart, a non-album single
released in June, 1980 one month after Curtis' suicide.

As a middle-school educator, I need to remind myself that students need more patience and grace, even when they are frustrating me with their choices. Some angsty teens may be slipping into a costume and trying out intense brooding  as a personality. However, Curtis' story reminds me that some may truly be struggling and  patience is required to look beyond the surface and  recognize when the shift into darkness is more than a passing phase or an effort to fit in.

The 500 - #158 - Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy - Elton John

I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #158
Album Title: Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy

Artist: Elton John

Genre: Rock, Pop, Country

Recorded: Caribou Ranch Studios, Nederland, Colorado

Released: May, 1975

My age at release: 9
How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? No
Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: We All Fall In Love Sometimes/Curtains

A crisp Autumn afternoon in 1975 found a yellow school bus rumbling down a dusty gravel road near the village of Kingsville, Ontario. Kicking up dust clouds it trundled on its daily sojourn from Jack Miner Public School to the patchwork rural neighbourhoods nestled between corn fields, apple orchards and small copses of mixed trees dotted along the northern shores of Lake Erie. Inside, 40 students, aged 5 - 14, bursted with excitement and cacophonous conversation as they were jostled along familiar concession roads.

Perched on the edge of a cracked vinyl seat near the front sat a ten-year-old kid. Quiet and attentive, like a young sparrow on a wire listening to older birds, he soaked in the banter, slang, jokes and gossip being bandied back and forth by teens clumped at the back.. Unannounced, two pretty Grade 8 girls, effortlessly broke into song. Their voices, natural and pleasantly harmonious, rose above the chatter and the bus engine's hum.

"...And someone saved my life tonight
Sugar bear (sugar bear sugar bear...)
You almost had your hooks in me
Didn't you dear?
You nearly had me roped and tied
Altar bound, hypnotized, sweet freedom whispered in my ear
You're a butterfly
And butterflies are free to fly
Fly away
High away
Bye bye"

It was a tune I recognized from the radio -- Someone Saved My Life Tonight from Elton John's latest record, Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy. The song had been inescapable that summer, but hearing those girls spontaneously belt it out transformed the music into something greater. In the dusty sunlight of that moment, it felt like a secret code permitted me to slip into the world of teen-age cool. As I sat there transfixed, I understood that a song was more than lyrics, melody and rhythm. It was a way to belong.

Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy was the ninth studio record released by renowned English musician, singer and songwriter Sir Elton John in 1975. The lyrics provided  an autobiographical account of the early musical career of John (Captain Fantastic) and Bernie Taupin (The Brown Dirt Cowboy) who had been his song-writer since the pair met in 1967. As the story goes, Taupin and John independently responded to a magazine advertisement posted by Liberty Records which was looking to recruit new musical talent in London, England.  

Neither passed the audition, however. As John departed, he mentioned to the desk clerk that writing lyrics was a challenge. He was handed a sealed envelope containing poetry from Taupin, which he read during his ride home on the London Underground. He was dumbfounded and completely rapt by the beauty of the words. More importantly, he could hear them sung in the numerous melodies he'd already composed in his head. The pair soon met and began a partnership that created more than 300 songs, including 40 Top Ten singles.

Elton John (left) and Bernie Taupin in the early 70s.

As an amateur writer, and a dabbler in verse and whimsy, I have been a fan of Bernie Taupin for fifty years. He and Elton became one of the greatest writing teams of all time -- on par with McCartney & Lennon (The Beatles), Jagger & Richards (The Rolling Stones), Benny Andersson & Bjorn Uleveus (ABBA) or the some of the legendary Brill Building Songwriters including Gerry Goffin & Carol King and Jerry Lieber & Mike Stoller. In 1985, ten years after that memorable September bus ride, I went through a heavy Elton & Bernie phase, collecting almost every record in their catalogue for my vinyl collection.

Nine records from Elton in the 1970s, four are on The 500.

Although I liked them all, my favourite was Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy and it was one of the first albums I purchased on compact disc -- a revolutionary technology at the time. It is also one of my favourite records ever. Elton and Bernie were at the height of their musical powers as songwriters on this disc, and the final album featuring the full, classic line-up of Elton's band -- Davey Johnstone (guitar), Dee Murray (bass), Nigel Olsson (drum) and Ray Cooper (percussion). Their tight musicianship and brilliant backing vocals were outstanding. 

I became obsessed with Taupin’s beautifully crafted lyrics—exploring ambition, failure, pressure, friendship, love, and identity. Though deeply personal and introspective, his poetry struck a chord in me; I recognized myself in every line. At least I did as a single, nineteen-year-old clumsily seeking meaning in a gap year between high school and university.

Elton with his band (1975).

Perhaps I still do. Even as I penned this post on a caffeine-fueled Sunday morning, I found myself reflecting on Taupin's words in the eighth track, Writing -- a homage to the collaborative song-crafting process he and Elton navigated for six years. and would for 30 more.

And we were...

Not the kind to dawdle

Will the things we wrote today
Sound as good tomorrow?
We will still be writing
In approaching years
Stifling yawns on Sundays
As the weekends disappear

And as this weekend disappears, I'll leave this post behind, too, hoping it will "sound as good in approaching years". I will be back to talk more Elton and Bernie in about 22 weeks when their 1974 Greatest Hits release appears at #136.

The 500 - #159 - Alive - KISS

 I was inspired by a podcast called The 500 hosted by New York-based comedian Josh Adam Meyers. His goal, and mine, is to explore Rolling Stone Magazine's 2012 edition of The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. 

---

Album: #159

Album Title: Alive

Artist: KISS

Genre: Hard Rock, Heavy Metal

Recorded: 4 concert venues - Detroit, Cleveland, Davenport and Wildwood

Released: September, 1975

My age at release: 10, my guest blogger was 8

How familiar was I with it before this week: Very

Is it on the 2020 list? Yes, at #305, dropping 146 spots

Song I am putting on my Spotify Playlist: Nothing To Lose

I am delighted to welcome back Glen “Archie” Gamble as a guest writer for this album. “Arch”, as he is affectionately known in his wide circle of London, Ontario friends, is a drummer, writer, world traveler and vlogger (The Gamble Ramble). He helped me out with a guest post for the first Van Halen album (#415 on The 500) way back in July, 2020. Although he is best known for his tenure with Canadian rock band Helix, he has also played with Buffalo Brothers and The Joys. However, salient to this week’s guest writing duties, he spent several years as the drummer with the KISS tribute band Alive. In that capacity, he has met and played with the original members of KISS and I knew he would have a fantastic, insider's perspective on this record. Here’s Arch!!

It was Christmas season, 1976. I know this because I was with my mother, Xmas shopping in the department store K-mart. And even though I was only eight years old, I saw something that changed my life…The Alive record from the New York rock band KISS.

KISS (l-r) Ace Frehley (guitar), Gene Simmons (bass/vocals), Peter Criss
(drums/vocals) and Paul Stanley (guitar/vocals)

Trust me, I know how silly that sounds coming from an eight-year-old. But it was legit. And very, very real. In fact, I would venture a guess, and say that the impact of the KISS Alive album had just as much to do with changing the course of my life, as it did with changing the lives of the Kiss band members themselves.

Pretty big statement, right? But it’s one I stand by. The reason being that, on my end, this album started my pilgrimage toward a love of rock ‘n’ roll. But foremost, it was the album that saved KISS’ career; it got them out of debt with the record company, saved their record deal and boosted the earnings they made from live shows. As a matter of fact the proceeds from the sales of Alive also kept their record label Casablanca Records, from going under. This album came along at exactly when it was needed. Not just for the band, but for the music industry. In a tepid pool of luke warm ‘soft rock’, including Eagles, Carly Simon and James Taylor, during the mid-seventies, KISS Alive was like a sonic shotgun blast to the face. It also helped start a trend of double live album releases that continues to this day.

KISS were known for their elaborate stage shows.

There were no soft ballads about sleeping with a girl in the desert; instead there were anthems about taking a girl backstage to C’Mon And Love Me. And this is THE album that set me on the path of becoming a musician. So not only did it incredibly alter the lives of KISS themselves, it heavily affected mine as well. I couldn’t believe the incredible energy that was pouring from the vinyl when my big brother put it on. While he enjoyed it, I was absolutely captivated. I used to come into his room and ask to listen to it. until eventually, it became mine.

A young Glen "Archie" Gamble, flanked by his brothers
 John (left) & Jim

I can recall, listening to the vinyl, sitting across like it on the floor with my headphones on, curly cable and all. And a great thing about the album was the booklet that came with it. I remember reading through the book while listening to the music and staring at these four crazy characters. Were they even human? Hey, I was eight, but it seemed to me that they had captured everything that would be exciting to a kid; hard driving, loud rock ‘n’ roll, with over-the-top theatrics and an amazing show. I was hooked.

Centerfold from the KISS Alive booklet.

From that moment on, KISS became MY thing. My brother, as I said, liked them but wasn’t a huge fan. But by the time I came to pick up the newest album, Destroyer, I was in-hook line and sinker. And God bless my parents, it was an obsession that they got behind. This was actually before I even started drumming. My mom would take me to the record store in the mall, and buy me copies of older KISS albums, and even allow me to hang posters in my room. In fact, around this time, we moved into our first brand new home in the suburbs. I got my very own bedroom for the first time, and went absolutely insane, covering the walls, and I mean every inch, with KISS posters, magazine spreads, newspaper articles, etc., etc., etc. My poor mother; she had just decorated this entire house; wallpaper, wood paneling, new carpet, and more. And I turned it into a rock ‘n’ roll den of sin. Well, as much as an eight-year-old can.

A young Glen Gamble in his KISS shirt.

And of course, seeing this insane cat like character on the drums, something called Peter Criss, also changed my life. Although I would later have questionable interactions with the human man himself, the God like character that was pictured on the album covers blew me away. And it was a perfect persona for him: his rhythm’s fit perfectly; primal, jungle, and just plain ferocious. And once again, I was hooked.

Peter Criss behind the drums (1975).

“Mom, can I have a drum set?”

My parents were very supportive, but cautious, about this new out of the blue hobby. Being a bit of a strange child with no interest in sports or academia. I think they were just happy to see me interested in something. Not to mention, their marriage started to go bad around this time and there was a lot of fighting. And I mean a lot. I think indulging me with Kiss and drums was a way to placate me and sort of apologize for the violence at home.

At any rate, my parents picked me up a toy drum kit from the Sears catalog. You know the type, paper drum heads, and tin cymbals. It didn’t matter, I was in heaven! My very own drum set. It’s not for me to say, as my memory is not THAT good, but people tell me that I took to it straight away. I could actually play something that resembled ACTUAL rhythms. Very quickly, I went through this drum kit, both figuratively and literally; the drum heads were actual thick paper. And you know that didn’t last long with a young rock ‘n’ roll roller, full of energy, right?

1975 Sears Catalogue Instruments.

So my parents took the next step up and got me another drum kit, from Sears again, but this one with plastic heads. By plastic, I don’t mean the plastic used in a real drumhead (which is mylar) I mean, just a thick sort of sheet plastic. Regardless, it was a step up, and I was once again immeasurably excited. And for toys they actually sounded good. They helped me learn my way around a kit, create muscle memory, and learn how to function with my hands and feet at the same time. The next step was courtesy of my big brother Jim, One day, we visited a young rock roller in our new neighborhood who played guitar, bass and drums and loved Kiss as fanatically as I did. His name was Doug Rouse -and we are friends to this day. He’s one of the people who helped chart the course of my life. And he had a real drum set; far from fancy, but real. It was manufactured by Silvertone and it was a blue sparkle kit with old, beaten cymbals. Regardless, I was spellbound.

The blue sparkle Silvertone kit from Doug Rouse.

My brother Jim, and I watched him play for a little while and then Jim asked “can Glen give them a try? He plays, too? While I was definitely appreciative of my big brother's support, I was also scared.-this would be the first time I’ve ever played outside of the home, and certainly never in front of anyone other than my family! Well, as family legend tells it, I sat down and began to play a steady four-four rock ‘n’ roll beat, amazing both my brother and Doug . Apparently I had picked up how to play from records, television and magazines: how to use the high hat, which my drum set at home didn’t have. I can’t honestly recall what happened, but Doug saw how much it meant to me and sold the drums to my brother Jim for $25.

Glen (left) and his brother Jim (2016).

That was it, I was in. And I mean for life. A progression of neighbourhood bands followed, and on a steady basis, better drum kits. Next thing you know, I was a 15 year-old playing in nightclubs. And by 17 I was playing full-time weekends. By 18, I took off to start touring full-time, the path of my destiny. There were cover bands in Canada that could work 52 weeks a year across the country. And that’s what I did for the next 4 or 5 years. Eventually, one of those cover bands, Nasty Klass, settled in London, Ontario. We eventually came off the road from full time work, as we decided to get serious about writing music and getting a record deal. We were just young musicians, scrambling for the next meal and rent. But we MEANT it.

Glen (left) with the other members of Nasty Klass (late 80s).

And along comes Alive … this time, the band. You see, there were rumours of an amazing, world class KISS tribute band that existed in our town of London Ontario. At this point, I hadn’t met these guys yet, but would see them at our shows. They were hard to miss, trust me. Dressed in black, leather, like a hand, they stood out. And all young musicians, they would go out and check out the “competition“. I can clearly recall the first time they came to see us at the local bar, Mingle’s; there were four giant halos of curly black hair back by the soundboard. The lighting was such that their faces were washed out, and it was very mysterious. In fact, it was like being visited by the real KISS….

Alive promotional poster, prior to Glen joining.

After that show that night, I talked to my good friend Tom Kouzinous (R.I.P.) who was friends with that band, and also the cousin of Alive’s “Gene Simmons” -- Spiro Papadatos. After the show, he explained to me that it was his cousin’s band we saw standing by the soundboard and that they were very impressed. Tom later explained to me that their drummer was leaving, and that they were looking for someone new. Initially, I didn’t even entertain the idea of joining, as we were so full-time in our pursuit of rock ‘n’ roll glory, I had no time. However, I did tell Tom that I knew the entire Alive album if they ever wanted to jam while searching for a drummer, just to keep from getting rusty.

Alive - Kiss Tribute Band - in full regalia.

And then one day, the call came -asking me if I wanted to jam sometime. I said yes if we set a date. When I arrived at the house of brothers Steve and Dean Georgakopoulos, I was floored; in their basement rec room, they had set up two Marshall full stacks, two Ampeg bass cabinets and a full-size Peter Criss drum set. The classic vintage equipment Kiss set up. And as I was soon to learn, they also played at 70’s vintage Kiss volume! In fact, I had to stop them as we set up and balanced sounds, and ask them to turn it down. I said ‘guys, no one rehearses this volume’ to which they replied “Kiss does!” And while I couldn’t really argue with that, I did have to let them know that being able to hear each other was paramount, otherwise we would never get better as a band… and I confess, having seen this amazing set up, I was already thinking of myself as part of it. I was IN.

Alive, with Glen in the Peter Criss regalia.

We started with the first song on Alive, Deuce, and the chainsaw guitars roared to life. I kicked in with that famous drum film, and ‘it’ was there right from the start; we locked in and gelled from the get-go. In fact, that afternoon we played the entire KISS Alive album. From side one to side four. Afterwards, we were all buzzing with adrenaline, and the guys asked me the obvious question: “would you like to play some shows with us?” I, of course, said yes, barring any complaints from my present band members. Thankfully, once I explained to my band that they would come first, they gave me their blessing. They saw how excited I was, and they were all KISS fans, themselves. Not to mention, they knew that we all needed to make money anyway we could.

A promotional flyer for Montreal bar, La Brique 
where Alive played frequently.

And off it went … several years of travel and adventure, with three of the best friends I ever had. Not only were they an amazing live KISS tribute band, they were also really great people. All three members were from immigrant Greek families, who took me in, fed me and treated me as one of their own. And after joining them, I found out about the real fanatical KISS Army world. I mean, I was considered a ‘super fan’ by most people I knew, but the circles they travelled in were full of diehard fans that knew excruciating KISS minutia and history. This really WAS a whole new ball game.

The members of Alive, out of make-up, posing with 
Ace Frehley of KISS.

Part of playing with Alive meant that we played fan KISS conventions, and fan gatherings. Which were always amazing. You could walk around and look at rare videos, as well as purchase them. You could also buy bootleg recordings, and fans were trading/selling rare KISS merchandise, and actual KISS owned costume pieces, guitars and more. It was like being in KISS heaven. We played a lot of theatres and clubs, college campuses, and outdoor shows. It was definitely a step up from what I was used to playing club-wise. Alive played a lot of the A Circuit rooms (top theatres) across Canada and America.

And then the call came …

We were officially invited to join the real KISS on their 1995 worldwide convention tour. Yes, THE real KISS. It was unbelievable; they had constructed a day for the fans that travelled around North America and Australia. They contacted the best vendors to appear as well as a few tribute bands. And Alive was asked to do more shows than any of the other tribute bands, something I’m proud of to this day. And at all these conventions, KISS brought out the big guns; they dug into their warehouse and pulled out rare costume pieces, vintage guitars, and drums, and stage pieces as well, for the fan to look at in person. The tickets were, an unheard of (at that time), $100 but more than worth it. It was an all day multimedia, immersive KISS Experience. It was also one of the best tours I’ve ever been on. We got to hang out and travel with KISS, as well as spend a lot of after-show social hours with them. It was truly an incredible experience. A super-fans dream came true-and true value for money for the punters that attended.

Looking back, I have to say that it’s funny: with the amazing buzz and response to the look back to their history, I predicted that KISS were going to get back together with the original lineup and put the makeup back on. Everyone scoffed at my suggestion, saying “they hate each other“ etc., but I could see it. By 1995 their non-make up career had hit, pardon the pun, “rock-bottom”. It was all over but the shouting and they had nowhere else to go. So they reunited with Ace Frehley and Peter Criss, put the makeup back on and started selling out stadiums…again.

Glen with KISS guitarits/singer Paul Stanley.

All I can say is that I was so happy to be there and take part in living my fan dream. And of course, our close proximity to KISS and their management ended up working out great for us, especially for Spiro. He ended up working for KISS for more than 10 years. And we, of course, got backstage passes and great tickets for future KISS reunion shows. And just think, all this started in 1976 when I picked up a four sided album called Alive at Kmart… what a ride it’s been. And what an adventure, one that still continues to this day. I am still a diehard, classic KISS fan and always will be (even if we did find out years later that much of Alive was re-recorded in the studio😂).

Glen performing with Alive (1990s).

And to quote the masters themselves, from the very last words of the classic Alive album…


Kiss Loves You…ROCK AND ROLLLLLL!!!