for the love of the wicked wails

I didn’t grow up a live music person. Sure, I’d been to a few concerts, even some big-name ones, but I never really got it. That magic people talked about—the near-religious experience of seeing a band play live? I figured it was just something I wasn’t wired to feel.

Until one fateful night in Dublin…

my gateway band

My KISS indoctrination didn’t come from an older sibling’s record collection or a parent’s nostalgic storytelling. Nope, I owe it all to Role Models. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a 2008 comedy in which one of the main characters is a diehard KISS fan. Their music, their lyrics, and, of course, their iconic makeup feature heavily throughout the film.

I was in high school when I saw it, and something about the sheer, over-the-top commitment of KISS—the outfits, the pyrotechnics, the absolutely unhinged lyrics—stuck with me. They weren’t just a band. They were a spectacle.

But even with my newfound appreciation, KISS was still just something I listened to. I had no idea how much that was about to change.

dublin, bond villains, and SHIFT-ing perspectives

Flash forward to my last semester of undergrad, when I was studying abroad in Ireland. Bar crawls in Dublin had become a weekly tradition for us because, well, what else do you do when you’re young, stupid, and temporarily living in a country where the beer flows like water?

On one such night, we came across a bar with a long line. Most of us were ready to move on, but then my Austrian friend—who, for context, had the kind of sharp, angular good looks that scream Bond Villain and an ass that could sell sweatpants—just strolled up to the bouncer like they were old pals. A few words were exchanged, the bouncer nodded, and suddenly, we were being ushered inside.

I was drunk, but not that drunk—and some people in the crowd looked…strange. Not Irish-pub-on-a-Friday-night strange (which is a whole different kind of odd). But something else entirely. We got drinks then settled into a back corner, but Bond Villain and I wandered toward the stage, where a band was setting up.

And then the music started.

At first, I just kept thinking, I know this song. And this one. And wait—this one too? We got closer to the stage, and I finally saw the band. They were decked out in full ‘80s rock getups—one of them even looked suspiciously like Paul Stanley. Then I spotted the name on the backdrop: SHIFT¹, written in massive, KISS-style lightning-bolt letters.

Finally, my brain clicked. They’re playing KISS. And I know every single song.

Reader, I lost my fucking mind.

For the first time in my life, I got it—that thing that happens at a great show when the music hits just right and everything else falls away. I rocked out with Bond Villain all night, and by the time we stumbled back into the Dublin streets, I was buzzing with something raw and electric—something I hadn’t even realized I was missing.

the floodgates open

That experience lingered, but I didn’t fully act on it until years later when I started dating my partner. He’s a big live music guy, but early on in our relationship, I told him that wasn’t really my scene (except for that one time in Ireland).

But then I thought… why not give it another shot? A band I liked was coming to town, the tickets were cheap, and worst-case scenario, I’d spend one night having a meh time.

Reader, I did not have a meh time.

I had a blast.

Two days later, COVID hit, and concerts went on hiatus for 16+ months. But as soon as things reopened? I hit the ground running (seriously, we went to the very first post-COVID concert in our area – it was Chicago and it rocked). I’ve been to 50+ shows since. And three of those? Actual KISS!

KISS chaos (+ why it’s always worth it)

Here’s the thing about seeing KISS live: it is never not an experience. And I don’t just mean the fire, the explosions, the fake blood, or Paul Stanley swinging around on a trapeze like a rock ‘n’ roll Tinkerbell. I mean the sheer amount of shit that goes wrong—and how little any of it matters.

• Did my partner and I get COVID—the delta variant *GASP*—at our first KISS show in 2022 and end up missing my oldest friend’s wedding? Most likely. The band did cancel the next few shows because they all got sick, soooo…
• Did I eat shit in the mud at the second show a few months later? Oh, absolutely.
• Did I completely screw up my Starchild makeup for round three? Listen, mirrors are hard, okay? Lots of people had it on the wrong side!
• Did some guy in the crowd loudly rip on my all-time favorite song? Yep. And is he entitled to his opinion? Sure. Even when it’s stupid and wrong.

And yet—every single show has been amazing.

Because that’s the thing about live music, about KISS, about that ridiculous, over-the-top, unapologetically bombastic energy: it doesn’t have to be perfect to be perfect. Sometimes, it’s even the imperfections that make it perfect.

Playing a Different Tune

I wasn’t always a concert person. For years, I thought live music was for other people—the ones who knew every deep cut, the ones who didn’t mind standing for hours in a sweaty crowd, the ones who had always known what it felt like to scream lyrics into the night with thousands of strangers. I had fun at SHIFT, but I figured it was a fluke, a product of a particularly good night in a particularly good city.

Live music isn’t about being a superfan or knowing every lyric. It’s not about having a perfect view or avoiding all the chaos (because let’s be real, there will always be chaos). It’s about feeling something in a way you can’t get from a recording; it’s about the moment when the lights go down, the first note hits, and suddenly—no matter what kind of day, week, or year you’ve had—you’re in it.

That’s what SHIFT gave me, and what KISS has given me every time I’ve seen them.

Does every concert give me that feeling? No. Some shows completely flopped for me (and trust me, I’ll get around to roasting them in due time). Sometimes the energy is off, sometimes the setlist doesn’t hit, sometimes I can’t stop thinking about the $45 I just paid for two beers, and sometimes the crowd is more fun to side-eye than to be part of. But that’s the gamble you take. Because when a show does hit? When it all comes together just right? There’s nothing like it.

So now? I chase that feeling every chance I get. 50+ shows in, I’ve learned that live music is absolutely my scene. And if my past self could see me now—planning trips around concerts, stacking ticket stubs in my nightstand, counting down the days to the next show—she’d probably be horrified…because that bitch was a know-it-all with some messed-up priorities 🤷🏼‍♀️

Thank fuck I’m much cooler now 😎

1. Those of you who are up on your Irish slang already get the joke, but for the uninitiated: to “shift” in Ireland means to kiss. Essentially, shift = kiss. So SHIFT is a brilliant name for an Irish KISS cover band 😚☘️ ↩︎