Forever Nerdy

by Brian Posehn

  In my opinion “New York Groove” is the best song on any of the solo discs. I’m really not sure how KISS could let a dude like that go. Oh yeah, booze and drugs. I even dressed as Ace Frehley. Tony’s mom, Billie, my Cub Scout den mother, made my Ace costume. It was based on the late-seventies Ace costume, with the silver foam shoulder pads forming a “V” on the chest.

  The rest of the costume was a black body suit with matching silver foam boot covers. I wore the costume twice, for Halloween 1978 and for my seventh-grade drama class lip sync, “Rocket Ride,” an Ace Frehley classic. Honestly, it’s a weak spot on Alive II, but I was an Ace guy, and it seemed like the obvious choice.

  I had a cardboard Les Paul with a smoke bomb strapped to it for the drama class presentation. I lit it and smoked out the whole class. I think a kid would get sent home for that today. My drama teacher ruled, though. She was this attractive young lady who worshipped Barbra Streisand and Bette Midler and was so excited about drama and acting that she made the class super fun and inspiring.

  She encouraged my silly side and helped make my junior high experience slightly less painful. Her class was a daily high point for me. And I had a crush on her. There was a rumor she fucked our principal, though, so I guess I didn’t have a shot.

  I wish I had pictures of me in the Ace costume. I don’t have tons of pics of myself growing up outside of baby photos and holiday shots. My mom wasn’t around for trick-or-treating to take an Ace Frehley picture that year. I was at Tony’s house, so Billie could dress me in my kick-ass costume and apply my makeup.

  I was pretty mad at my mom that week anyway, and KISS was at the core of it. October 28, 1978, was the day of one of my greatest disappointments in my life. It was the night KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park aired on network TV. And I fucking missed it.

  They had been on other people’s variety shows. They had done an appearance, I believe, on Sonny and Cher, and they did a Paul Lynde Halloween special. But they had never had their own TV movie. KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park was to be their first movie. I was beyond stoked. I couldn’t believe I was gonna see my four heroes on TV.

  I started planning that evening. I would camp in front of the TV ’til it happened—I was going to need a lot of pee jars. Then my mom announces that we’re going to Snookie’s house. Who’s Snookie? My mom’s friend Anna had a sister named Snookie. Anna worked with my mom and was the first friend she made in Sonoma.

  Anna was a teacher of developmentally disabled people, so obviously she’s a really nice lady and had her heart in the right place. But she actually said at one point to my mom when I started comedy that she didn’t like humor or comedy, that she didn’t get humor or find it funny. Humor doesn’t get you either, Anna.

  Anyway, that night we were going to her sister Snookie’s house in the hills. Snookie was a real person, not the woman from that terrible Jersey show. This is the seventies, remember. So I’m excited. I’m a little bummed I’m gonna have to watch KISS Meets the Phantom of the Park on somebody else’s TV, but I’ll make do. At least I get to watch it, right?

  Nope. We got there, the TV wasn’t working, she lived in the hills, didn’t get great reception, didn’t have cable—I think that was cable time by ’78—but the point was that it was a no-go. It wasn’t happening. I threw a tantrum, had a meltdown, an epic shit-fit. I hated my mom. I’m pretty sure I told her I hated her.

  I’m sure that was probably the first time I told her I hated her. I’d never really been that upset or felt those kinds of feelings at that point. Not until junior high or high school did she become really hard to get along with, when Ken the Monster stepped into our lives. Then we would really clash.

  But before Ken and puberty my mom and I didn’t really get heated when we would butt heads. Besides minor beefs over chores and school grades, I was an easy kid. I just read, listened to music, stayed out of her way, and enjoyed things.

  But here was this thing I enjoyed, KISS, and she ruined it. She told me I was going to be able to watch it at Snookie’s. And this is pre-VCR, of course: I was fucked. There was no way I was ever going to see KISS in their televised glory.

  There’s no way I was gonna be walking down the hallway of the convention center twenty years later and see Kiss Meets the Phantom on VHS. I did not think that would ever, ever happen. It did, and then of course because KISS is KISS, they put it out on DVD. I have the entire collection of KISSology. Brag.

  But that night I didn’t know I would be able to see it ever again. I was twelve and furious. And it got ugly fast. She walked outside with me because I threw a fit inside. I remember being on Snookie’s patio and losing my goddamn mind—I can’t believe this happened: my mom betrayed me.

  She betrayed the KISS Army. It was an insurrection. I was a martyr. I wasn’t sure what those words meant back then. I ruined the evening; after we ate whatever Crock Pot–made meal Snookie prepared, we left early. And I was the worst the whole ride home; I gave her the silent treatment for a while.

  I didn’t let her off the hook probably ever, really. I still don’t know if, by telling the story, I’m actually letting her off the hook. I know she couldn’t control it, but we should’ve stayed home and just watched it on our TV. My way or the highway.

  KISS Meets the Phantom… was a big one for any KISS fan growing up in the seventies, and I still resent my mom because of my personal experience with that movie. I didn’t see Phantom for a long time. It really is terrible too. Turns out, I didn’t miss shit. It was totally not worth my legendary meltdown. Kids are dicks.

  During the summer of ’79 I finally secured my own copy of Alive I. It featured a bunch of great early KISS songs, including “C’mon and Love Me,” maybe the greatest dumbest song ever, featuring the greatest, terrible line in an already terrible song: “You were distant, now you’re nearer, I can feel your face inside the mirror.…” Oh boy. “The lights are out, and I can feel you, baby, with my hand”—I can’t think of dumber lyrics than those. And yet I sing them to my wife all the time. I once whispered them to her as Paul Stanley walked by her. She was a champ for not peeing her pants.

  Really some of the dumbest lyrics ever, like “Barbie Girl” terrible. Maybe it’s not a coincidence that one of the bands I left them for in high school was Rush, writers of some of the smartest songs in rock. So, reader, I ask you: What is the DUMBER KISS SONG: “Do You Love Me” or “C’mon and Love Me” or “Dr. Love” or “Ladies Room” or “Lick It Up”?

  At the same time I started with KISS, there were outside influences—school, TV, radio—that pushed music toward my easily influenced young brain. Okay, I’ll get right to it: I had a disco phase. It didn’t last long, just a small chunk of 1978. Disco was massive in ’78. Even in my small town. I never saw Saturday Night Fever, but I played the shit out of the record. I also owned a K-Tel’s Greatest Disco Hits, where there were thirty disco songs crammed onto one LP.

  That Christmas I asked for and received a KC and the Sunshine Band album. The Bee Gees and KC and the Sunshine Band were my favorites. I would argue they were the best of the bunch. I don’t know who I would argue that with. I even took a disco lesson and had my mom buy me an ugly blue silk disco shirt. Disco was pervasive, and I was young.

  My disco phase didn’t last long. KISS was a gateway. Without KISS I’m not sure I would have gotten into AC/DC, UFO, Van Halen, or anyone who came later. After my short disco phase I wanted my rock itch scratched. I went from the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack to Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours.

  I joined one of those record clubs so I could get the earlier KISS albums. I also acquired ELO, Queen, and Foreigner. By the time KISS released their disco song in ’79, I was a Zeppelin fan and checking out what else hard rock had to offer. It was all over for me and anything that didn’t rock. Even “Beth” was played less.

  So when I heard “I Was Made for Loving You,” with that slick disco production and that fabricated-sounding groove, I went through, like, twenty stages of grief. I know there�
��s only twelve, but I went through twenty.

  I’m not totally sure about my dates of KISStory, I’m not a stickler for KISStorical accuracy. No KISStorian am I. But I think KISS first lost me around ’79 when they took off their makeup and fired the guy I loved the most, Ace Frehley, and did a disco song. That was followed by Phantom Menace–like disappointment.

  Here’s where KISS lost me the first time: Dynasty. The two biggest things in the music world in the late seventies were KISS and disco; then KISS decided to go disco—how could they lose? Well, kids like me who worshipped KISS also hated disco, that’s how they lost. I have a true love-hate relationship with Dynasty. I used to totally hate it, but now I love it. It will forever be known as the disco record. KISSCO. Even the insert is disco—bright flashes of colors obscure the classic logo.

  One funny thing about KISS is, besides singing about girls, they mentioned partying quite a bit—such as in “Cold Gin” and even in “Detroit Rock City”—but the main two guys, Paul and Gene, never drank or did drugs. Ace and Peter did their best to make up for it, which is why they were both booted. Apparently, during the recording of this record Ace was wasted and angry the whole time. I do not blame him. He either quit right after Dynasty or was fired, depends whose story you’re hearing.

  After Dynasty I was out too. That was it for me as a KISS fan. I remember a feeling of meh when KISS, Unmasked came out in 1980 and again the next year, when The Elder dropped. A KISS concept record? No thanks. I didn’t even buy The Elder ’til last year so I could fill out my collection. It’s actually kind of entertaining in its shittiness.

  I bought Unmasked when it came out from the state hospital store. I returned it for credit. I didn’t love the first couple of records without Ace; they wouldn’t win me back for a few years until Creatures of the Night and Lick It Up.

  During a time when I was getting into poppy-sounding metal like Mötley Crüe and Ratt, KISS went for their version of that sound. I’m a fan of early-eighties KISS, the Vinnie Vincent/Mark St. John era. I liked both Ace replacements, even though I was sad he was gone.

  St. John had a debilitating case of arthritis, which was bad for a young guitar player. He couldn’t play guitar so he only played on one record, Animalize, but they both made an impression on me. I actually still like the Vinnie Vincent Invasion records, because of the over the top aspect of his playing and his flamboyant persona. Vinnie has had a pretty public downslide. The dude is a mess now. But he ripped and his hair was fucking awesome in the old days. And then there is the tragic, short life of Eric Carr. There is kind of some bad luck attached to being a replacement player in KISS.

  Where KISS lost me the second time: “God Gave Rock and Roll to You.” Because, yes, I liked the commercial direction KISS originally took in the eighties, but after Animalize, like a lot of those “hair metal” bands, it got slicker and more commercial. Ugh! So cheesy, especially compared to the other shit I was listening to at the time. “Tears Are Falling” and “God Gave Rock and Roll to You” didn’t stand up to Exodus and Anthrax.

  I’ve met the guys in KISS over the years—well, three of them. I haven’t run into Peter, but I have met the other three original members, Ace, Gene, and Paul. Of course, Ace was my favorite. But I’ll save that for later when I discuss the good and bad sides of meeting your heroes.

  Ultimately, I still love KISS. Sure, I’ve had problems with some of the directions they’ve taken over the years—touring without the original guys but using their makeup, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame weirdness, the gross money grabs like the KISS pinball machine (which is super cool and not douchey at all, because I own one), the KISS coffin (Dimebag is buried in one, and I heard Gene didn’t charge him—what a good guy) and especially KISS Hello Kitty. But I’m still KISS Army for life. (By the way, what fucking weirdos were stoked when Hello Kitty finally teamed up with KISS?)

  Sure, it’s been hard to be a KISS fan for forty years. I feel like I’ve spent more time being annoyed or disappointed with KISS than I have loving them. But nothing compares to the amount of annoyance and disappointment and out-and-out hatred I would come to feel for something I previously loved held up to the things I’ve felt about Star Wars.

  * See Cher song, “Half-Breed.”

  † See Cher song, “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.”

  FIVE

  STAR WARS: MY OBSESSION WITH THE ORIGINAL TRILOGY, THE UNHOLY TRILOGY, AND SECOND AND THIRD CHANCES

  Jaws made me a budding movie buff, but movies like Star Wars and its sequels, along with other amazing blockbusters like Raiders, Blade Runner, and the Alien and Terminator flicks, made me a full-on movie nerd. In my teens I devoured films—at movie theaters, in front of a VCR, or watching cable. I was a kid obsessed. But it started with Star Wars.

  Star Wars also made me a Star Wars nerd, though I didn’t know I was a Star Wars nerd really ’til the nineties when it came back. It would also prove to be my gateway to other science fiction films and books. And that’s what I considered myself before the special editions and prequels rekindled my love and passion for Star Wars: just a movie buff and a sci-fi and Star Wars fan. I didn’t really know what a nerd was when I was that young.

  I had gotten hit for saying “nerd” when I told Eli the youth pastor to “Sit on it,” but I’d only been following Fonzie’s lead. I didn’t know why “nerd” was a put-down or what it really meant. I knew a couple of older guys who were fans of movies and TV shows who would now be considered nerds. My Sacramento grandparents were in a choir group and became friends with a younger couple, June and Ray. They had a twenty-year-old son who still lived with them named Marty. When my Grandpa Ed and Grandma Clara visited the couple, Marty would usually entertain me.

  Marty was a big Planet of the Apes fan. He loved the movie and its sequels and wasn’t that happy about the new Planet of the Apes TV series. When I told him I liked it, he ranted against the show with an organized list of complaints. He often quoted the movies. When a local Sacramento TV station did an Apes marathon, Marty watched them all. And he was goofy and wore glasses and didn’t have a girlfriend. Wait a minute… he was a fucking nerd. My first nerd.

  The next nerd I would meet would be my Uncle Mike. Of course, I didn’t put it together then, but he turned me onto Monty Python, and memorable holiday and birthday gifts included a bunch of sci-fi paperbacks and a mint copy of Giant Sized X-Men #1. He also went to UC Berkeley for engineering, worked for the government at Lawrence Livermore Labs straight out of college, invented successful business software, and was one of the first game programmers at Electronic Arts.

  When I visited him once in the late seventies he showed me Hardware Wars, a barely funny Star Wars parody. Nerd flag after nerd flag so far. And yet… I had no idea. When I stayed with him and my Aunt Cindy once in Livermore, a bunch of guys came over and had pizza and they watched Star Trek together. They knew the episode before it started and were pretty precious about it. I was only allowed to talk during the commercials. So you tell me: Was my Uncle Mike a nerd? Fuck. Yes.

  Star Wars changed movies in May of 1977. I would have to wait a month for it to change me. I only knew a couple of kids who got to see it in May. Screenings were sold out that first month; I had to really get on my mom to even see it when we did. Obviously there was no easy future wizard shit like Fandango or apps or cell phones. I think my pals Monte and Tony saw it early, which makes sense, because their parents were hipper than my mom and had more income.

  Monte’s mom was like a tan Stevie Nicks, and they had money, but not in a gross, braggy way. More in a way that, as I’m writing this and thinking about their really nice house on their huge piece of property next to a vineyard and their Mercedes, it’s kind of obvious now. Not then. But they definitely had money. Monte always had cool stuff before anybody—toys, skateboards, bikes, the best bike, video games. Later on, Monte had the best weed.

  Tony lived in a smaller, more modest house than Monte, but they had a backyard and a doughboy pool, so it was a
suburban Taj Mahal to me. At the time I would have preferred it over the actual Taj Mahal (I was actually unclear on what it even was or where. Thanks, public school.) Tony’s dad was artistic and pretty cool. Anyway, cool enough to have R. Crumb and Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers comics lying around and to school us on Star Trek. He also had on prominent display in his home office a huge, mostly nude Vampirella statue that made my parts feel weird.

  Those guys didn’t spoil the movie for me. That wasn’t really a thing people thought about back then. No one yelled “SPOILER” at you. They didn’t ruin it, but they definitely hyped it up sufficiently. I also read reviews. Yep, that’s me, an eleven-year-old who read movie reviews. The San Francisco Chronicle was my favorite.

  The Chronicle was a miracle, specifically the famous pink section in the Sunday edition. I think I first discovered it at Nana Norma’s or Nana Irene’s when I visited; they both subscribed to it, and I loved it. It had all the entertainment news for Northern California. Its reviews and lists of theaters and showtimes and later concert information would be instrumental in me following my obsessions of movies and music.

  On May 25, 1977, the Chronicle said Star Wars was the most exciting sci-fi film ever. The reviewer said it was more fun than 2001: A Space Odyssey. Most movies are more fun than A Space Odyssey. A Dog’s Purpose is more fun than 2001. Devil’s Rejects is more fun than 2001. Sex and the City 2 is less fun than A Space Odyssey. That’s it. SATC 2 is the only movie less fun than 2001. The reviewer also name-checked Star Trek and Space 1999. That was all I needed to read.

  So one Saturday in June of ’77 my mom and I went to a matinee at the Parkwood Theater in Santa Rosa. Ken the Monster wanted to go, but it was already a little strained between us. He wasn’t a full-blown dick yet, but I didn’t love that I was no longer getting all her attention. I was still young, so I wanted my mom to go alone with me. Weird. My mom and I grabbed sodas and popcorn and licorice and sat down. I saw the greatest movie I had ever seen. My mom fell asleep. She took one of her famous movie naps. And my life changed forever.