#paralyzed

Unknown paraplegic man positioned on the floor.

Unknown Wheelchair Racer, with a little platform perfectly mounted for his socked feet.

Here we have another small but nonetheless wonderful example of a characteristic feature shared by two Kiss albums coming from Bob Ezrin’s production workshop, Music from The Elder (1981) and Revenge (1992).

And in this case, that would be those extended mid-part sections, which aren’t always to everyone’s taste, and in some cases, depending on exactly where one’s conservative sensibilities lie, are even seen as futile attempts to measure up to bands like Queen.

Whatever your position on the matter may be, today we’re likely dealing with a unique case in this context: the integration of theatrical play element. And yes, Destroyer (1976) also featured such gadgets, and plenty of them at that, but not in the middle section and above all not exactly in a character defining way, which brings us finally to Mr. Blackwell (1981) and Paralyzed (1992).

To begin with the latter, Paralyzed, and not just because of its relative conciseness, a flowing collage of situation-driven spoken-word fragments offers us a glimpse into Gene’s mind, or rather into the mind of the character he portrays - or at least into how this character prefers to see himself in other people’s minds, I guess (1).

By Kiss standards, this is a downright pragmatic approach, especially when viewed alongside the stark contrasting extravagance of Mr. Blackwell’s atmospheric, kinda voodoo-esque demon summoning, which is allowed to go on for a full minute… or whatever kind of dark mischief gives this Blackwell guy his kicks, but here, too, the focus is on the attitude serving a deeper reflection on the character in question.

Speaking of depth, if one were so inclined, one could also see in this scenario the mirror image, or the other side of reality, within the God of Thunder (1976) universe, to which Blackwell gains access, or simply an opening, through his rituals, leading to these otherworldly realms, or even to the mighty God of Thunder himself (2).

Be that as it may, none of this really applies to Revenge, as is evident from the lyrics of a song like Unholy alone, since this very special demon song doesn't really have much to do with such grotesque realms and takes place on an entirely different, matured and much more comprehensive level of reality, a fact that is, of course, also somewhat evident in Paralyzed.

Revenge may have been produced by Bob Ezrin with a klassik yet sophisticated vibe, and the spirit is certainly similar, but it is more reflective than the one that previously blossomed in the midst of pure fantasy. So with Revenge, Kiss has indeed outgrown its colorful and imaginative costumes - at least in terms of content (3).

Only Bob Ezrin still can't seem to resist those seemingly indelible theatrical interludes. Does he actually do that on all his productions?

Side Note:

(1) And yes, there actually is a version that was recorded by a genuine contemporary rapper, though it was ultimately scrapped. I believe to remember Bruce Kulick presented a snippet of it on a podcast sometime.

(2) This approach would, of course, fit perfectly with my previous argument that, with The Elder, Kiss and Ezrin essentially did little more than expand on the concept of Destroyer and further develop certain elements through a shift in perspective and a step forward.

One might also add that Gene & Paul were quite open about having used Destroyer more or less as a mental blueprint for Psycho Circus (1998). According to my observations, however, this was true to at least the same extent for The Elder, if not even more.

(3) I fondly remember a quote from around 1993 or '94 in which Gene dismisses rumors of a reunion, simply because, as an adult, you wouldn’t want to wear your childhood clothes, after all, you don’t fit into them anymore.

And well, somehow they’ve managed to squeeze back into them anyway. And I guess it must be kind of like wearing a pair of old jeans that are way too tight. Once you’ve managed to get into them - you’ll never get out again.

Paralyzed (1992)

Mr. Blackwell (1981)