R.I.P. Ace Frehley
Can 2025 just fucking stop already? Ozzy and David Roach of Junkyard were more than enough heartbreak, and now, Ace fuckin’ Frehley has left us. What a hole he leaves behind. This one hits on a different level.
KISS wasn’t just another band to me as kid, it was life. My childhood was painted in greasepaint and guitar solos. I can still see the flashes of those album covers, “Love Gun” and “Rock and Roll Over”, my original vinyl copies, worn and weathered, but still spinning strong. My Ace solo record, though, that poor thing is wrecked due to overuse. I played the absolute dog shit out of it. It was always my favorite.
Ace and Peter were always my guys, sorry, Cam McHargue. I know My mom made sure I had every KISS record and tape she could get her hands on. That was more than enough to light a lifelong fire. “Shock Me” and “Talk To Me” still send chills down my spine. And then came Frehley’s Comet. That debut hit like a meteor, loud, defiant, and full of space dust and swagger. When “Rock Soldiers” kicked in, I felt like I was part of something, a brotherhood of misfits who didn’t just listen to Rock; we lived it. I still call myself one of them, though I’ve prefer the title “Rock Warrior.” Meeting Cam McHargue way back when, lit a fire of KISS love for a few years too – they his favorite band, next to W.A.S.P. of course. That dude talked about them like they were long lost friends. We had HOURS of conversations that would never fucking end about which albums were the best and which ACE solos were better.
I’m not going to talk about how Ace should’ve had more songs in KISS, that ship sailed long ago. The reasons were their own, and the circus carried on. But let’s be honest, KISS has mocked themselves to death. And I’m sure Gene and Paul will find a way to disrespect Ace even in death. This though, this is the real end of an era. There will never be another time when we see the true band, the real spirit, take the stage again.
And I don’t care who’s reading this, Tommy Thayer wearing Ace’s makeup has always been a disgrace. You can’t imitate soul. You can copy the look, the licks, even the smoke from the guitar, but you can’t fake that cosmic magic. Ace was danger. He was mystery. He was the heart of KISS’s wild side.
He made being an outsider feel like belonging. That was his real power, beyond the solos, beyond the image. Ace gave the weird kids, the dreamers, the Rockers who never quite fit anywhere, a home amongst the stars. He told us it was okay to be loud, to be strange, to be ourselves.
So yeah, this one hurts. Another legend is gone. Another light in the galaxy has gone dim. But every time that Les Paul screams through the speakers, every time “Shock Me” rips through the night, he’s still there, floating somewhere above us, six strings closer to heaven.
Long live the Space Man. The one. The only.
ACE FUCKIN’ FREHLEY
~Andy