Letters

I started listening to KISS virtually from the time I was born. My dad's a KISS psychotic and his madness inevitably rubbed off on me. One of my favourite photographs from my early years had me in Gene Simmons makeup wielding a yellow plastic guitar and sticking out my tongue. I was around four years old. As I started to get older, my parents realized that, whenever they spoke, I often said, "What? What?" Concerned, they took me to an audiologist, and sure enough, it was determined that I had a hearing impairment. I was six years old at the time. Though there were growing pains, I became used to my impairment, and in the process became a burgeoning KISS fan. I sang the songs and played air guitar throughout the years, until something strange happened. One day while my dad and I were driving and listening to KISS Alive!, I found myself tapping on the dashboard--not just the standard tapping along with the beat, but actually differentiating between different drum sounds: snare, toms, cowbell. I'd swing my way across the dashboard in an attempt to imitate Peter Criss's rushes across his kit. Because my hearing impairment mostly affected the higher pitches--Ace's guitar solos sometimes reached beyond my hearing--I had close to normal hearing in the lower, deeper ranges, and so could clearly discern every single drum sound. A short time later, I used the money from my paper route to purchase my first drum set, and KISS songs were the first I performed. Peter Criss was a frequent imitatee, as was Eric Singer for his use of double kick pedals and nuanced rhythms. Also, of course Eric Carr was never forgotten. Today I am twenty-five years old and still pounding away. And with KISS announcing its visit to my new home of Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, you can bet I will be there to pay my respects to the men who initiated me into the wonderful world of music. From the bottom of my heart and the top of my lungs, thank you Paul, Gene, Peter, Ace, Eric C, Vinnie, Mark, Bruce, Eric S., and Tommy.