Scott Herold Dispatch: Mini Kiss got a Love Gun

Scott Herold’s Dispatch: Mini-Kiss got a Love Gun

Ian Hunter wrote in his Ballad of Mott the Hoople “Rock and Roll is a losers game/It mesmerizes I can’t explain”. I completely agree. Rock and Roll can be a spectacle that is the musical equivalent to a B- 52 bomber being shot down, headed straight toward you and you can’t look away.

Hopefully, my publisher will delete this blog or burn it for sanity sake…mine. Bear with me. This whole MiniKiss thing is so indulgent.

MiniKiss is the worlds only “official” Kiss tribute comprised of four LP’s (Little People) who dress, act, and perform to the music of Kiss. The best way I can describe this carnival is to ask you to imagine that the Mayor of Dorothy’s Munchkin City retired the Lollipop Guild and made an unclean, mercenary declaration to Rock and Roll all Night and Party Everyday!

Like most myths or legends, my dispatch begins with a task to be performed. A friend of mine named Matt made a decision to go into the beer festival business. In solidarity of the poor bastard and his new venture, I offered up my services free of charge. I would book the musical acts to entertain the crowd while they sampled micro brew beers and behaved sordidly. Matt would in turn make a donation to Rock the Cause and give us liberal promotion at the event.

Matt announced that he had a beer festival scheduled in Sioux Falls, SD and wanted very much to make a big bang and leave a lasting impression. He wanted a name act, a classic rock act, something that a city the size of Sioux Falls would go crazy for. He was also limited by budget. Shock of shocks.

I phoned an agent I know who books several great classic rock acts that are affordable and asked who was going to be in the Sioux Falls area. The agent told me that Otis Day and The Knights were available. Anyone who has seen National Lampoons Animal House will remember the frat party and the song Shout! by Otis Day. I suggested to Matt a full fledged toga party, with a screening of Animal House, all you can sample beer, and hundreds of people singing and dancing to “Shout”?

My Beer idled friend was not sold on the idea as it was to be held in down town Sioux Falls. That’s interesting, I thought, Sioux Falls has a downtown? After a few minutes of discussion he said “What about those little guys who dress up like Kiss?” I stopped for a moment in disbelief, even putting down my wine. I said to Matt “You are serious about this?” He answered “Yes, I want those little guys who dress like Kiss”. I called the agent back about Otis Day and politely told him “The promoter is going to take a pass”. The agent inquired as to why? I explained The promoter wants little people who dress up like Kiss. The phone went silent for a few moments. Inside I’m laughing my MiniKiss ass off. This could be good.

I made the call to Joe Fatale or Mini Gene Simmons who manages MiniKiss. In just a few hours we had reached terms and contracts were sent out for signature. A few days later I’m sitting on my back deck having lunch with my friend Dominika Kalzac, a lovely Eastern European woman from the former Soviet Union. We were enjoying the summer sun and a delicious bottle of Cava from central Spain when my phone rang.

It was Matt and he was absolutely beside himself. It’s not rare that he can become a tad unhinged from time to time. “Did you see that e-mail from those goddamn Kiss Midgets?” I had not yet checked my e-mail that day so I was a little hesitant to see what fresh hell awaited me. “They won’t do the Pub Crawl or Sing Take Me out to the Ball Game at Canary Stadium!” Matt was perturbed. I said “slow down let me look into this”. Matt had added a request to the contract asking MiniKiss to get into full costume and help do additional promotion for the show including singing Take Me out to the Ball Game at a Sioux Falls Canaries home game, which I thought was going to be minor league baseball at its finest.

MiniGene was pushing back and not taking kindly to the request. I called him to see what could be smoothed over. “It is a bad idea” he said in his New York accent. “The appeal of MiniKiss will be blown! Kiss never appeared in public without make up! We never appear in public before a show.” Somehow I really like this creeping integrity.

I called Matt back and he was clearly under a great deal of pressure. I explain calmly “MiniKiss will not appear until show time. If it’s a Kiss tribute that you want I will get you a Kiss tribute band. There are hundreds of them.” Matt is not calm in the least “It is not about Kiss! I don’t give a shit about fucking Kiss! I want those fucking little Kiss guys”. I respond somewhat sedate “I know. I know. We will get you the little Kiss guys but right now let’s stick to the original contract. I will have them sign and fax it back ASAP”.

My friend Dominika is in the background listening in on the entire conversation. She is both amused and astounded by what she has heard. She breaks into a smile and with gestures reserved only for those from the old country she quips “Only at your house do these things happen Scotty, only at your House!” I also see her twittering the conversation, like this is just so much hot shit coming out of Tehran. My Cava lunch has morphed into a David Lynch film with full syndication.

MiniKiss would be flying from Los Angeles to Sioux Falls and then back home again. Multiple stop trips are not cheap. The contract calls for transportation to and from the event. Matt is not happy with the price of the air fair. More cursing ensues. It is not because he is cheap. He is often a generous guy but now he is truly a miserly bastard. There are numerous costs associated with running a beer festival and margins are thin. I get that.

We negotiate with MiniKiss to fly out of the Minneapolis Airport and promise transportation from Sioux Falls. This is day to day business for Mini Kiss as I come to find out. People from all walks of life drive Mini Kiss all over hell and back.

My part of this gig is not over, not by a long shot. Matt asks me to be the MiniKiss taxi. I have always had a strange obsession with the Macabre. Even though every bone in my body is fighting the notion of being the chauffeur for Mini Kiss, I convince myself that it will make a great blog. So I decide to suffer for my art. The best way to explain my state of mind at this point is to draw reference to Group Captain Lionel Mandrake from the Stanley Kubrick classic, Dr Strangelove where he pleads with Col. Jack Ripper “Yes, Hehehehe there old Jack and when did you first become aware of this theory of yours? You asked me to get you Mini Kiss and I did it old boy. Now I am hoping you will give me the recall code!”

I mean no offense to my friend. He is a great guy and has done a great deal for both myself and the Rock the Cause community. Our friendship, however, took a rambling turn into the twilight zone when we became introduced to MiniKiss.

I traveled to Sioux Falls and picked MiniKiss up at the Airport. From the sound of the conversations I can hear coming from my back seat, MiniKiss have their noses deep in the proverbial Rock and Roll trough. I understand immediately they are obsessed with large breasts. Mini Peter Criss was recanting the tale of a fan in Los Angeles who gave him a face full of “Boobs bigger than me right in my face!” This banter goes on and on like it’s some fucking Russ Meyer movie. It’s the best.

We show up to sound check. The Melsimatics, who are also on the bill, are setting up. They are struggling with the sound guy and backline. There is a great deal of frustration that has to be resolved. The Melismatics are crazy talented. Once they start playing, it’s simply some of the best live Rock and Roll to be heard.

Tell me Soul Sucker doesn’t rock. The Melismatics are flat out one of today’s best bands.

MiniKiss does their sound check. They are so excited to be giging that they have to be reminded that it is time to get into make up and costume. I drive them back to their hotel. Small Paul is ecstatic about The Melismatics “Man they are so cool! They really rock hard!” Small Peter is more impressed with Pony Hixon Smith’s legs. “That Pony girl is real talented and she has great legs!” Mini Kiss may be small but they have huge Rock and Roll appetites.

It is finally time to take Mini Kiss to their show. A couple of Air Force Reservists are sitting on the hotel patio sipping down some beers. I ask How much have you boys had to drink? They seem a little surly. I just tell em Drink up because Mini Kiss is coming out the door!

The transformation from road weary little people to Rock Stars was blinding. There was Mini Ace with his Space Wings and Glitter Platforms, Mini Peter in his cat suit, Mini Paul was ready to brandish his Love Gun and Small Gene was truly the god of Thunder and Rock and Roll!

The two Air Guardsmen stood at attention “Holy Shit! It’s Mini Kiss. We have to get a picture and send it back to the base!” One of the Guardsmen looks at me “Damn if we did not have to fly drills in F 16’s tomorrow, hell we would come out and party with you!”

Small Gene sits in the front of my Jeep next to me. He looks me dead in the eyes and whispers “Rock and Roll is the Worlds most powerful aphrodisiac”.

I could not agree more. MiniKiss played a show to over 400 people in Sioux Falls. They spit blood, guitars smoked, and the crowd sang at the top of their lungs. Pony Hixon Smith was taking pictures of the band and showing them to me “The bass is not even plugged in. Half the time the show is synced!”

Pony was right. Most of the show is synced and the songs even fade out at the end. So what, the real life Gene Simmons is not always plugged in either. Small Gene Simmons, like big Gene Simmons, knows that the power of Rock and Roll is something we are all plugged into to. All we need is the permission to make a stand and “Shout It, Shout It, Shout It Out loud!”

When the show finishes, MiniKiss are the tallest people in the Sioux Empire area. I heard a crazed fan ask if MiniKiss had a CD they could buy? Small Gene responded to this moron candidly “How can I sell you a CD of Kiss music. It’s Kiss!?” It was then I understood that MiniKiss was doing what we all yearn to do. Those bastards were livin the dream, making money doing something they love.

Even Matt had a good weekend. But I think he understood that Rock and Roll is, in fact, ultimately a loser’s game. I know Blue Grass or American Roots acts that might have been a better fit for the gig. He does run a goddamn choice Beer Festival. If The Beer Dabbler is ever close to you, do the brew.

I drove MiniKiss to the Minneapolis airport the next day. For the most part it was uneventful. There was some aimless bickering about whether or not Small Ace’s Epiphone Les Paul Junior was in fact a Gibson guitar. As soon as I put on Led Zeppelin’s How the West Was Won Live the mini beasts were soothed and settled down for a nap. It was like having my own little Partridge Family bus and I was that blithe ass agent Rubin Kincaid driving them to their next glittering gig. Now I’m completely inside their twisted fucking dream.

So I wonder what my lesson is supposed to be from this fool’s journey? Maybe Ian Hunter described my feeling to the malaise. I changed my name in search of fame, to find the Midas touch, I wish I would have never wanted then, what I want now twice as much The Ballad of Mott The Hoople.

I love that they have gone on to appear in a Super Bowl ad.