6/8/10 Gallery Books to Publish KISS Guitarist Ace Frehley's Memoir
NEW YORK, June 8, 2010 – Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Schuster, announced today that it will publish legendary rocker and KISS guitarist Ace Frehley’s memoir NO REGRETS. The book, to be published under the VH1 Books imprint, is scheduled for publication in Summer 2011.
Ace Frehley is known worldwide as the legendary original lead guitarist for the seminal rock band KISS and respected as a solo artist who has influenced generations of guitar players. KISS is known for its wild make-up, spectacular costumes, and theatrical live shows (not to mention their music)! Frehley will delve into his life as a kid growing up in the Bronx, his ups-and-downs and influences which catapulted him into a life of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, and reveal what is was like to be one of the founding members of one of the most influential bands in the world.
Ace Frehley said “I think Sinatra said it best…‘regrets I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.’”
Jennifer Bergstrom, Vice President, Editor-in-Chief of Gallery Books, said "NO REGRETS is sure to be the next must-read rock-and-roll memoir.”
Gallery Books’ Senior Editor Jeremie Ruby-Strauss negotiated the deal with Frank Weimann, President of The Literary Group International, which includes world rights.
Post subject: [2011-11-01] Ace Frehley "No Regrets" hardcover autobiography (VH1)
Posted: Tue Jun 08, 2010 1:19 pm
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Ace has taken the high road when it comes to Gene and his constant, repetitious slagging of Ace and Peter. He usually just shrugs it off. But I do hope Ace shows up Gene a little in his book. It's about time Ace had his say on what happened.
Now, if only Peter Criss will come out with the book he's been promising for over twenty years now...
Post subject: [2011-11-01] Ace Frehley "No Regrets" hardcover autobiography (VH1)
Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 1:46 pm
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How do you delay a book by 2 years? Maybe Ace needs all that time to remember anything.
Looks like things are on hold in Space Ace-land.
According to its listing on Amazon.com, former KISS guitarist Ace Frehley’s autobiography, “No Regrets,” has been pushed back to April of 2013.
Co-written by New York Times journalist Joe Layden, "No Regrets" is to be published by Gallery Books under the VH1 Books imprint, and was originally scheduled for publication in Summer 2011.
No explanation was posted about the delay.
In his memoir, Frehley will delve into his life as a kid growing up in the Bronx, his ups-and-downs and influences which catapulted him into a life of sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, and reveal what is was like to be one of the founding members of one of the most influential bands in the world.
When the original announcement about the book was made last year, Ace Frehley said, "I think Sinatra said it best...'regrets I’ve had a few, but then again, too few to mention.'"
_________________ "I want to rush for 1,000 or 1,500 yards, whichever comes first."
-ex- New Orleans Saint RB George Rogers
Original Kiss Guitarist Ace Frehley to Release ‘No Regrets’ Memoir in November by: Matthew Wilkening
Original Kiss guitarist Ace Frehley will launch his memoir ‘No Regrets’ Nov. 1 through Gallery Books, a division of Simon and Schuster. Frehley, known to many as “Space Ace” due to his iconic makeup and astronomical attire, plans to “kiss and tell” in this 288-page chronicle that flashes back across four decades. Joining Gene Simmons, Paul Stanley and Peter Criss in 1973, Frehley and his Les Paul guitar made up one quarter of the Kiss sensation that would launch it’s very own Army and become a household name. Kiss has sold over 100 million records worldwide, and though Frehley first departed the band in 1982 (returning for a few years in 1996) his fans remain loyal. Ace has managed to have a successful solo career that finds him recording, touring and making appearances to this day.
“I should’ve been dead a dozen times by all rights. All the nonsense that I’ve gone through, I’m just happy to be alive. It’s like everyday is a bonus for me. I feel like I’m in a really good place and my energy levels are at an all-time high. I’m feeling healthy and everything is very positive,” Frehley stated after being sober for sixteen months in 2008.
Still clean today, Ace has partnered with co-author Joe Layden, who recently was involved with Megadeth founder Dave Mustaine’s autobiography, to help him narrate his somewhat blurred past. Frehley also credits his bodyguards for remembering many of the incidents that he would’ve otherwise forgotten.
Recounting his days of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll No Regrets promises to reveal a rocket sized perspective of what it’s like to be the champion guitarist in one of the greatest rock ‘n’ roll bands in the world.
KISS's Ace Frehley Tells All (Or Some?) in Advance of Upcoming Memoir Space Ace's book No Regrets is due out November 1.
By Jaan Uhelszki, Contributor August 5, 2011 10:00 AM 16
While Gene Simmons closed out the season of Family Jewels on bended knee, asking Shannon Tweed, his long-time companion and mother of his two grown children, to marry him, his former bandmate Ace Frehley is getting ready to release his autobiography titled No Regrets: A Rock ‘N’ Roll Memoir. In stores and available for Kindle on November 1, 2011, it’s coming out on Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Shuster.
Although a canny writer, Frehley enlisted the help of New York Times reporter Joe Layden to help him pen the 288-page tome, although what he needed the most help with was making sure he remembered everything accurately—having spent much of those years in an alcoholic haze. “It’s hard for me to remember a lot of stuff, so what I’ve been doing is getting together with people I used to work with and usually they have better memories of situations than I do. You know, old bodyguards.”
As a result he has a no-holds-barred book that will rip the mask off all those apocryphal (and not-so-apocryphal) KISS stories. For the record, Frehley performed with KISS from its inception in 1973 until his first departure in 1982. He was persuaded to rejoin KISS in 1996 for their reunion tour. His second stint lasted until 2002.
Frehley talks to us about his years as Space Ace, why he was forced to room with Simmons in the early years, and what it really felt like getting electrocuted, and being sober for the past five years. If he told us all that, imagine what he’s held back for the book.
"I had an argument with Gene and Paul who said that because they write most of the material that I was not very bright. So I said, 'You'd be surprised how bright I am.' I bought these IQ tests, and Paul and I took them. There was no fooling around; we timed it and went by the rules. Paul's IQ is 140, which is very good, near genius. Mine is 164, which is genius. I always knew I was brighter than the next kid; I was just bored."
Looking back, how do you think people looked at KISS? I think a lot of musicians, serious musicians, when they look at KISS, just write us off as clowns. I understand it, you know? The other day I was listening to Alive IV and even Alive II, and I really wasn’t happy with the mix. Stuff like that started happening more and more often. Paul and Gene would make decisions without consulting me, and it got really frustrating.
What do you know now about life that you didn’t know when you first started with KISS?
Well, I’m a lot more apt about business matters. I was pretty out of the loop back then. And after you get screwed four or five times by different people, you start reading the fine print. I have a much better overview of the business. I look at it as a producer, I look at it as a songwriter, I look at it as a performing artist. And it’s nice to be able to do that, and not just look at it as a rock star. Because sometimes a rock star’s view is slightly jaded and colored by the people around them who want maybe don’t always tell them the truth.
The biggest thing that happened is I got sober. All my creative powers were unleashed. I wasn’t sedated. It’s funny, my whole life I was saying to myself I need this stuff to create, only to fine out later on in life, I’m more creative without it. There’s that sick little voice in your head that tells you you need it to socialize. You need it to do this, you need it to do that. And none of it is true. It’s just your insecurities coming out, which everybody has whether they want to admit it or not.
When you were drinking a lot did you still pick up the guitar?
No. But then I never practiced every day. I don’t like to practice. I like spontaneity. When I don’t play guitar for a week and I pick it up, it’s better.
Did you feel your talent was undervalued when you were in KISS?
Well, it seemed like it. Paul and Gene never wanted to give me the credit that was due. It was like in a lot of instances they tried to bury the fact that I did A, B, C, and D. I can’t remember Paul or Gene ever saying, "Wow, that was a great solo." On some of my classic guitar solos that were on their songs. But what goes around comes around. They have a new album coming out and I have a new album coming out, and you know what’s going to happen. People are going to compare the two. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
In 1977 the Gallup poll named KISS the most popular band in America. How did being on top affect your creativity?
I think it gave me false confidence. For a while I believed that we were better than we were. I think we got complacent with our music and the show. It’s like when you’re on top, where do you go? I told Paul and Gene from the outset that the The Elder album was a huge mistake, and they didn’t listen to me. I knew at that point in time we needed to do something heavy and powerful and strong. I was really frustrated doing that project.
Could you be who you are now without having been in KISS?
I knew I was destined to be a rock star. I just knew it, like I’ve always had the power of foresight. I feel right now exactly the way I felt after I finished mixing my first solo single, "New York Groove." That was a special record. I feel that same way now and hopefully history’s going to repeat itself. I’m in a good place. Like in 2000, after I left the reunion tour or the farewell tour, whichever the fuck it was—the never-ending tour.
I had been abusing a lot of things and I wasn’t in good shape and it took a while for me to get my wits back. But I’m probably stronger now than I’ve ever been in my life, and I need to let everybody know I’m back. I know for a while Paul and Gene weren’t saying good things about me, and that’s okay. Everything that comes around goes around.
But their criticisms are always about you being f***ed up.
Yeah, but I usually did my job.
I think the world is broken down by who is your favorite KISS member. There’s even a Facebook quiz, “What KISS Member Are You?” You ask people and they always say that you’re their favorite member of KISS.
Well, according to Paul and Gene that’s not true.
No, I think you’re the most beloved member.
I don’t think Paul and Gene ever got that. If they did, but why would they have replaced me with Tommy Thayer? And it was profitable in the beginning, but that was because nobody knew it was Tommy Thayer. They were kind of were burying that fact.
Who do you think it’s worse for? Do you think it’s worse for Tommy Thayer to have to be you, or for you to see Tommy be you? He didn’t even get his own persona, you know?
Well, he didn’t get his own makeup because of all the whole merchandising machine Gene has in place with Sony Signatures. To create a new face just would be a big problem. So it all comes down to dollars and cents, and not what’s really the right thing to do.
When you were drinking did you think you’d lost everything? Your ability to play? To be as good as you once were?
In 2003, I had a really bad detox. I fell down a flight of stairs and I screwed up my shoulder and my neck and I couldn’t play guitar for a while. And I thought God had just taken it all away from me. All these crazy things ran through my head. I’ve always been great on computers and stuff and I couldn’t even run computers. I forgot how to use all my programs. I had to learn how to do everything all over again.
But how did you relearn?
I did it the same way I did it the first time, I taught myself. I never took a guitar lesson. I never took a computer lesson. But learning the second time was a lot easier because my mind was clear. Now I’ve learned everything that I knew and more—and learned it better I’m thinking clearer, I’m writing as good, or better, songs.
You’ve come a long way from recording vocals lying on your back in a dark studio.
Yeah, I have. I was insecure then. Especially when people knock you down. Maybe it was because Paul and Gene was just so overpowering in the beginning. And Peter, too, you know?
Well, you were in a band with some of rock’s hardest taskmasters. You were always closest to Peter, but you shared a room with Gene. How did that happen?
I was closest to Peter. [But] Paul and Peter were close. Nobody wanted to room with Gene, so I got stuck. I got the short straw.
When Sean Delany did the choreography did it ever embarrass you to have synchronized stage moves?
Nah. I thought it was kind of cool. There were times when I felt a little funny. And maybe that was earlier on when we weren’t as big, and people would look at us like, "Who are these guys?" Once we were established it was fine. I don’t think Sean Delaney gets enough credit for what he did for us.
When you simultaneously all released solo albums in 1978, and yours was the only one that charted, what did the other band members say? Were they happy for you? What did they say?
They never really acknowledged it to me.
Not even a word?
Not that I remember. We were four lead singers, all competing at the same league, you know?
So who had the best voice?
Peter had the most unique voice, I think, of the four.
As for you, what do you think your greatest strength is?
I think probably my greatest strength is, because I grew up in the Bronx and was a street kid, I have the survival instinct. And there were plenty of times in my life where I didn’t think I was going to make it. Or just mentally didn’t think I was going to make it. But I was able to draw from my childhood, my street sense, and that always carried me through tough situations. And also my belief in God. I do believe there’s a greater consciousness that everybody’s part of, that if you can tap into that, you can get to a higher place. I’ve written songs that I felt I haven’t written. I feel like the words just get beamed into my head.
You were electrocuted in 1976 in Lakeland, Florida. Was that before or after you wrote “Shock Me?”
Before; that inspired ["Shock Me"]. That’s something like Paul and Gene don’t even talk about because they don’t want me to get any press about it. And that was a big thing—I almost died. It was a pretty traumatic experience. I mean, I had burns on my fingers. I was knocked out. [My then-wife ] Jeannette was there and I think she had a premonition about it. It was very weird.
Were you any different after you were electrocuted?
I don’t think so. A few days after I was nervous, because I remember reading that ... some guy got electrocuted and he died two days later. So I’m saying, am I going to die two days later? Because that was a bad shock.
Was it painful?
Yeah. I mean, I knew it for an instant and then I blacked out. I woke up behind the amplifiers. I said, “I can’t play.” Then the fans started chanting my name and I finished the show. But I had no feeling in my hands. I don’t know how I even did it. I guess it was all adrenalin.
What are you most proud of?
You know what I’m really proud of? It’s great to be around kids today that idolize me, and I know they walk away going, "Wow, he’s not f***ed up. I want to be like him." Because when I was wasted around young fans, they’d see me drunk and go "Wow, I want to be like Ace." I figured I influenced a lot of kids in a negative way, and it seems like that’s changing big time.
What would you do over if you could?
Well, I probably would have gotten sober quicker, and I probably wouldn’t have quit the band. I believe if I was stronger and more together they wouldn’t have worn me down like they did, and I would have been more of their equal. I mean, obviously musically I was their equal, if not more. I was always recovering from hangovers, so it was hard to deal with those guys sometimes. I don’t like drama, so rather than be confrontational, I’d take a different road. And because of that, I missed out on a lot of decisions and business things that affected my life dramatically.
Of all the KISS songs you wrote, what’s your favorite?
That’s a hard one. “Cold Gin” is a good one. For a while I felt weird early in sobriety, about playing that song. It’s about drinking. And then I realized there’s nothing wrong with drinking. Some alcoholics have this thing about 'don’t drink, alcohol’s bad.' You know, bullshit. Alcohol’s really healthy for you, if you drink it in moderation. When you overdo it, then you’ve got to pay the price. You get slapped on the wrist and you can’t do it anymore.
Did you ever feel lost in your character?
Yeah.
Although in the beginning you were that character.
Right. And that character is still a big part of me because I created it. It’s just, at the height of our popularity we always had to be seen in that makeup, and so to be that character 24/7 got overbearing.
What has changed most about your playing over the years?
I think I’m being driven by the fact that for a while I was pushed down and I feel like I had to prove to everybody that I’m back. After I left KISS in 2001, they told everyone I couldn’t tour anymore. I was f***ed up. I felt like that wasn’t going to be my epitaph. So, I decided to get strong and get sober and show everybody what I really can do and what I could have done if I had been more together. It’s weird that my time is coming this late in life, but better late than never.
What’s the greatest misconception about you?
Probably that they don’t think I’m as smart as I am. But that’s okay. Because then I have the edge.
Well, it has been reported that you had the highest IQ in KISS.
And that was with a hangover.
Do you still feel a loyalty to them, to KISS as an entity?
I don’t know if loyalty’s the right word. I feel a connection. The four of us did have a chemistry that was unique to the four of us, but I think it might be gone at this point, or impossible to recapture.
If the circumstances were right, could you do something with everybody at the same place, same time?
I think it’s probably passed. It came and went. But that’s okay. I did the reunion tour. I feel I was there for them when they needed me.
Pretty amusing to read some of the comments, particularly the thinly-veiled Gene wannabe who rants about Ace's ego and how Ace never gives Gene and Paul credit...
Alan
_________________ Alan
"Just because I imagined it doesn't make it any less true." - Homer Simpson
KISS's Ace Frehley Tells All (Or Some?) in Advance of Upcoming Memoir Space Ace's book No Regrets is due out November 1.
By Jaan Uhelszki, Contributor August 5, 2011 10:00 AM 16
While Gene Simmons closed out the season of Family Jewels on bended knee, asking Shannon Tweed, his long-time companion and mother of his two grown children, to marry him, his former bandmate Ace Frehley is getting ready to release his autobiography titled No Regrets: A Rock ‘N’ Roll Memoir. In stores and available for Kindle on November 1, 2011, it’s coming out on Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon & Shuster.
Although a canny writer, Frehley enlisted the help of New York Times reporter Joe Layden to help him pen the 288-page tome, although what he needed the most help with was making sure he remembered everything accurately—having spent much of those years in an alcoholic haze. “It’s hard for me to remember a lot of stuff, so what I’ve been doing is getting together with people I used to work with and usually they have better memories of situations than I do. You know, old bodyguards.”
As a result he has a no-holds-barred book that will rip the mask off all those apocryphal (and not-so-apocryphal) KISS stories. For the record, Frehley performed with KISS from its inception in 1973 until his first departure in 1982. He was persuaded to rejoin KISS in 1996 for their reunion tour. His second stint lasted until 2002.
Frehley talks to us about his years as Space Ace, why he was forced to room with Simmons in the early years, and what it really felt like getting electrocuted, and being sober for the past five years. If he told us all that, imagine what he’s held back for the book.
"I had an argument with Gene and Paul who said that because they write most of the material that I was not very bright. So I said, 'You'd be surprised how bright I am.' I bought these IQ tests, and Paul and I took them. There was no fooling around; we timed it and went by the rules. Paul's IQ is 140, which is very good, near genius. Mine is 164, which is genius. I always knew I was brighter than the next kid; I was just bored."
Looking back, how do you think people looked at KISS? I think a lot of musicians, serious musicians, when they look at KISS, just write us off as clowns. I understand it, you know? The other day I was listening to Alive IV and even Alive II, and I really wasn’t happy with the mix. Stuff like that started happening more and more often. Paul and Gene would make decisions without consulting me, and it got really frustrating.
What do you know now about life that you didn’t know when you first started with KISS?
Well, I’m a lot more apt about business matters. I was pretty out of the loop back then. And after you get screwed four or five times by different people, you start reading the fine print. I have a much better overview of the business. I look at it as a producer, I look at it as a songwriter, I look at it as a performing artist. And it’s nice to be able to do that, and not just look at it as a rock star. Because sometimes a rock star’s view is slightly jaded and colored by the people around them who want maybe don’t always tell them the truth.
The biggest thing that happened is I got sober. All my creative powers were unleashed. I wasn’t sedated. It’s funny, my whole life I was saying to myself I need this stuff to create, only to fine out later on in life, I’m more creative without it. There’s that sick little voice in your head that tells you you need it to socialize. You need it to do this, you need it to do that. And none of it is true. It’s just your insecurities coming out, which everybody has whether they want to admit it or not.
When you were drinking a lot did you still pick up the guitar?
No. But then I never practiced every day. I don’t like to practice. I like spontaneity. When I don’t play guitar for a week and I pick it up, it’s better.
Did you feel your talent was undervalued when you were in KISS?
Well, it seemed like it. Paul and Gene never wanted to give me the credit that was due. It was like in a lot of instances they tried to bury the fact that I did A, B, C, and D. I can’t remember Paul or Gene ever saying, "Wow, that was a great solo." On some of my classic guitar solos that were on their songs. But what goes around comes around. They have a new album coming out and I have a new album coming out, and you know what’s going to happen. People are going to compare the two. That’s all I’m going to say about that.
In 1977 the Gallup poll named KISS the most popular band in America. How did being on top affect your creativity?
I think it gave me false confidence. For a while I believed that we were better than we were. I think we got complacent with our music and the show. It’s like when you’re on top, where do you go? I told Paul and Gene from the outset that the The Elder album was a huge mistake, and they didn’t listen to me. I knew at that point in time we needed to do something heavy and powerful and strong. I was really frustrated doing that project.
Could you be who you are now without having been in KISS?
I knew I was destined to be a rock star. I just knew it, like I’ve always had the power of foresight. I feel right now exactly the way I felt after I finished mixing my first solo single, "New York Groove." That was a special record. I feel that same way now and hopefully history’s going to repeat itself. I’m in a good place. Like in 2000, after I left the reunion tour or the farewell tour, whichever the fuck it was—the never-ending tour.
I had been abusing a lot of things and I wasn’t in good shape and it took a while for me to get my wits back. But I’m probably stronger now than I’ve ever been in my life, and I need to let everybody know I’m back. I know for a while Paul and Gene weren’t saying good things about me, and that’s okay. Everything that comes around goes around.
But their criticisms are always about you being f***ed up.
Yeah, but I usually did my job.
I think the world is broken down by who is your favorite KISS member. There’s even a Facebook quiz, “What KISS Member Are You?” You ask people and they always say that you’re their favorite member of KISS.
Well, according to Paul and Gene that’s not true.
No, I think you’re the most beloved member.
I don’t think Paul and Gene ever got that. If they did, but why would they have replaced me with Tommy Thayer? And it was profitable in the beginning, but that was because nobody knew it was Tommy Thayer. They were kind of were burying that fact.
Who do you think it’s worse for? Do you think it’s worse for Tommy Thayer to have to be you, or for you to see Tommy be you? He didn’t even get his own persona, you know?
Well, he didn’t get his own makeup because of all the whole merchandising machine Gene has in place with Sony Signatures. To create a new face just would be a big problem. So it all comes down to dollars and cents, and not what’s really the right thing to do.
When you were drinking did you think you’d lost everything? Your ability to play? To be as good as you once were?
In 2003, I had a really bad detox. I fell down a flight of stairs and I screwed up my shoulder and my neck and I couldn’t play guitar for a while. And I thought God had just taken it all away from me. All these crazy things ran through my head. I’ve always been great on computers and stuff and I couldn’t even run computers. I forgot how to use all my programs. I had to learn how to do everything all over again.
But how did you relearn?
I did it the same way I did it the first time, I taught myself. I never took a guitar lesson. I never took a computer lesson. But learning the second time was a lot easier because my mind was clear. Now I’ve learned everything that I knew and more—and learned it better I’m thinking clearer, I’m writing as good, or better, songs.
You’ve come a long way from recording vocals lying on your back in a dark studio.
Yeah, I have. I was insecure then. Especially when people knock you down. Maybe it was because Paul and Gene was just so overpowering in the beginning. And Peter, too, you know?
Well, you were in a band with some of rock’s hardest taskmasters. You were always closest to Peter, but you shared a room with Gene. How did that happen?
I was closest to Peter. [But] Paul and Peter were close. Nobody wanted to room with Gene, so I got stuck. I got the short straw.
When Sean Delany did the choreography did it ever embarrass you to have synchronized stage moves?
Nah. I thought it was kind of cool. There were times when I felt a little funny. And maybe that was earlier on when we weren’t as big, and people would look at us like, "Who are these guys?" Once we were established it was fine. I don’t think Sean Delaney gets enough credit for what he did for us.
When you simultaneously all released solo albums in 1978, and yours was the only one that charted, what did the other band members say? Were they happy for you? What did they say?
They never really acknowledged it to me.
Not even a word?
Not that I remember. We were four lead singers, all competing at the same league, you know?
So who had the best voice?
Peter had the most unique voice, I think, of the four.
As for you, what do you think your greatest strength is?
I think probably my greatest strength is, because I grew up in the Bronx and was a street kid, I have the survival instinct. And there were plenty of times in my life where I didn’t think I was going to make it. Or just mentally didn’t think I was going to make it. But I was able to draw from my childhood, my street sense, and that always carried me through tough situations. And also my belief in God. I do believe there’s a greater consciousness that everybody’s part of, that if you can tap into that, you can get to a higher place. I’ve written songs that I felt I haven’t written. I feel like the words just get beamed into my head.
You were electrocuted in 1976 in Lakeland, Florida. Was that before or after you wrote “Shock Me?”
Before; that inspired ["Shock Me"]. That’s something like Paul and Gene don’t even talk about because they don’t want me to get any press about it. And that was a big thing—I almost died. It was a pretty traumatic experience. I mean, I had burns on my fingers. I was knocked out. [My then-wife ] Jeannette was there and I think she had a premonition about it. It was very weird.
Were you any different after you were electrocuted?
I don’t think so. A few days after I was nervous, because I remember reading that ... some guy got electrocuted and he died two days later. So I’m saying, am I going to die two days later? Because that was a bad shock.
Was it painful?
Yeah. I mean, I knew it for an instant and then I blacked out. I woke up behind the amplifiers. I said, “I can’t play.” Then the fans started chanting my name and I finished the show. But I had no feeling in my hands. I don’t know how I even did it. I guess it was all adrenalin.
What are you most proud of?
You know what I’m really proud of? It’s great to be around kids today that idolize me, and I know they walk away going, "Wow, he’s not f***ed up. I want to be like him." Because when I was wasted around young fans, they’d see me drunk and go "Wow, I want to be like Ace." I figured I influenced a lot of kids in a negative way, and it seems like that’s changing big time.
What would you do over if you could?
Well, I probably would have gotten sober quicker, and I probably wouldn’t have quit the band. I believe if I was stronger and more together they wouldn’t have worn me down like they did, and I would have been more of their equal. I mean, obviously musically I was their equal, if not more. I was always recovering from hangovers, so it was hard to deal with those guys sometimes. I don’t like drama, so rather than be confrontational, I’d take a different road. And because of that, I missed out on a lot of decisions and business things that affected my life dramatically.
Of all the KISS songs you wrote, what’s your favorite?
That’s a hard one. “Cold Gin” is a good one. For a while I felt weird early in sobriety, about playing that song. It’s about drinking. And then I realized there’s nothing wrong with drinking. Some alcoholics have this thing about 'don’t drink, alcohol’s bad.' You know, bullshit. Alcohol’s really healthy for you, if you drink it in moderation. When you overdo it, then you’ve got to pay the price. You get slapped on the wrist and you can’t do it anymore.
Did you ever feel lost in your character?
Yeah.
Although in the beginning you were that character.
Right. And that character is still a big part of me because I created it. It’s just, at the height of our popularity we always had to be seen in that makeup, and so to be that character 24/7 got overbearing.
What has changed most about your playing over the years?
I think I’m being driven by the fact that for a while I was pushed down and I feel like I had to prove to everybody that I’m back. After I left KISS in 2001, they told everyone I couldn’t tour anymore. I was f***ed up. I felt like that wasn’t going to be my epitaph. So, I decided to get strong and get sober and show everybody what I really can do and what I could have done if I had been more together. It’s weird that my time is coming this late in life, but better late than never.
What’s the greatest misconception about you?
Probably that they don’t think I’m as smart as I am. But that’s okay. Because then I have the edge.
Well, it has been reported that you had the highest IQ in KISS.
And that was with a hangover.
Do you still feel a loyalty to them, to KISS as an entity?
I don’t know if loyalty’s the right word. I feel a connection. The four of us did have a chemistry that was unique to the four of us, but I think it might be gone at this point, or impossible to recapture.
If the circumstances were right, could you do something with everybody at the same place, same time?
I think it’s probably passed. It came and went. But that’s okay. I did the reunion tour. I feel I was there for them when they needed me.
Pretty amusing to read some of the comments, particularly the thinly-veiled Gene wannabe who rants about Ace's ego and how Ace never gives Gene and Paul credit...
Alan
Amusing, yes. But also a lot of mistakes from the questioner. All of their albums charted, but Ace's was the highest (no pun intended)
_________________ "I want to rush for 1,000 or 1,500 yards, whichever comes first."
-ex- New Orleans Saint RB George Rogers
Ace Frehley Calls Kiss ‘A Bunch of Dirty Rotten Whores’ by: Melvin Van Nebula
Former Kiss guitarist Ace Frehley is certainly not pulling any punches in his new autobiography ‘No Regrets,’ labeling today’s version of the band ‘a bunch of dirty rotten whores’ and detailing several incidents that led to his second departure from the group. Frehley contends that founding and remaining band members Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons have tried to rewrite history by downplaying his contributions to the band. He takes particular umbrage to the band having former road manager Tommy Thayer take over his “Spaceman” character: “My first reaction was, ‘Isn’t anything sacred to those guys?’ But I soon realized their lust for money outweighed any sense of fairness or logic on their part.”
He also reveals that he once decked Thayer backstage when the manager requested that Ace ask his girlfriend to leave the band’s dressing rooms, in violation of a “no wives or girlfriends” rule that Frehley contends was violated several times prior by other band members.
But the most venomous statements are saved for Simmons’ alleged actions towards Ace’s daughter Monique, who flew across the country to film a bit part in the Kiss-themed movie ‘Detroit Rock City,’ only to break down in tears when she found out her part had been cut.
“I knew it wasn’t an accident,” Ace explains. “Gene had been involved in the editing process on a daily basis…(he) was probably pissed at me for something I had done, but to get back at me by hurting my daughter?” He goes on to say that he never felt the same about the bassist after that — “He had reached an all-time low with me.”
Still, Ace says when he thinks back on Kiss he “can’t help but remember all the fun we shared in our formative years.” He also credits his sobriety (five years and counting!) for helping him realize, “At this point in my life, I just need to let things go,” but he does have final words for his former bandmates: “What comes around, goes around.”
Post subject: [2011-11-01] Ace Frehley "No Regrets" hardcover autobiography (VH1)
Posted: Wed Oct 19, 2011 8:33 pm
Super Genius
Joined:
20 Sep 2006
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4934
I have a signed copy of this on order (well, my buddy ordered it - I'm just whoring off some of the shipping by piggybacking).
I'm very interested to read this - and I'd love to see Peter's book come out, too. We've heard the Gene and Paul side of things over and over - not that I expect Ace's or Peter's to be the 100% truth, either.
As far as Ace's abilities and such on the second go-round, I found it somewhat amusing that Gene and Paul said with Ace and Peter gone, they could now play some of the old tracks that they couldn't play with them (even though they said that's not what the fans want to hear). Ace has been playing more of that stuff than them (until this cruise), and he played the one song they added w/Thayer that Kiss dropped fairly quickly.
Alan
_________________ Alan
"Just because I imagined it doesn't make it any less true." - Homer Simpson
Ace Frehley: "No Regrets"; Excerpts From Chapter 1 Posted Online
AceFrehley «No Regrets», chapter 1, excerpt:
A BRONX TALE
When I was a kid I used to carry around this awful image in my head—a picture of three men tangled awkwardly in high-tension wires, fifty feet in the air, their lifeless bodies crisping in the midday sun. The horror they endured was shared with me by my father, an electrical engineer who worked, among other places, at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point, New York, helping with the installation of a new power plant in the 1950s. Carl Frehley was a man of his times. He worked long hours, multiple jobs, did the best he could to provide a home for his wife and kids. Sometimes, on Sunday afternoons after church, he'd pile the whole family into a car and we'd drive north through the Bronx, into Westchester County, and eventually find ourselves on the banks of the Hudson River. Dad would take us on a tour of the West Point campus and grounds, introduce us to people, even take us into the control room of the electrical plant. I'm still not sure how he pulled that one off—getting security clearance for his whole family—but he did. Dad would walk around, pointing out various sights, explaining the rhythm of his day and the work that he did, sometimes talking in the language of an engineer, a language that might as well have been Latin to me. Work was important, and I guess in some way he just wanted his kids to understand that; he wanted us to see this other part of his life.
One day, as we headed back to the car, my father paused and looked up at the electrical wires above, a net of steel and cable stretching across the autumn sky.
"You know, Paul," he said, "every day at work, we have a little contest before lunch." I had no idea what he was talking about. A contest? Before lunch? Sounded like something we might have done at Grace Lutheran, where I went to elementary school in the Bronx.
"We draw straws to see who has to go out and pick up sandwiches for the whole crew. If you get the shortest straw, you're the delivery boy."
That was the beginning. From there, my father went on to tell us the story of the day he drew the short straw. While he was out picking up sandwiches, there was a terrible accident back on the job. Someone had accidentally thrown a switch, restoring power to an area where three men were working. Tragically, all three men were electrocuted instantly. When my father returned, he couldn't believe his eyes. The bodies of his coworkers were being peeled off the high-tension wires.
"Right up there," he said quietly, looking overhead. "That's where it happened." He paused, put a hand on my shoulder.
"If I hadn't drawn the short straw that day, I'd have been up there in those wires, and I wouldn't be here right now."
I looked at the wires, then at my father. He smiled. "Sometimes you get lucky."
Dad would repeat that story from time to time, just often enough to keep the nightmares flowing. That wasn't his intent, of course—he always related the tale in a whimsical "what if?" tone—but it was the outcome nonetheless. You tell a little kid that his old man was nearly fried to death, and you're sentencing him to a few years of sweaty, terror-filled nights beneath the sheets. I get his point now, though. You never know what life might bring… or when it might come to a screeching halt.
And it's best to act accordingly.
The Carl Frehley I knew (and it's important to note that I didn't know him all that well) was quiet and reserved, a model of middle-class decorum, maybe because he was so fucking tired all the time. My father was forty-seven years old by the time I came into this world, and I sometimes think he was actually deep into a second life at that point. The son of German and Dutch immigrants, he'd grown up in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, finished three years of college, and had to leave school and go to work. Later on he moved to New York and married Esther Hecht, a pretty young girl seventeen years his junior. My mom had been raised on a farm in Norlina, North Carolina. My grandfather was from northern Germany—the island RÜgen, to be precise. My grandmother was also German, but I'd always heard whispers of there being some American Indian blood in our family. It was boredom, more than anything else, that brought my mom to New York. Tired of life on the farm, she followed her older sister Ida north and lived with her for a while in Brooklyn.
Dad, meanwhile, came for the work.
There was always a little bit of mystery surrounding my dad, things he never shared; nooks and crannies of his past were always a taboo subject. He married late, started a family late, and settled into a comfortable domestic and professional routine. Every so often, though, there were glimpses of a different man, a different life.
My dad was an awesome bowler, for example. He never talked about being part of a bowling league or even how he learned the game. God knows he only bowled occasionally while I was growing up, but when he did, he nailed it. He had his own ball, his own shoes, and textbook form that helped him throw a couple of perfect games. He was also an amazing pool player, a fact I discovered while still in elementary school, when he taught me how to shoot. Dad could do things with a pool cue that only the pros could do, and when I look back on it now I realize he may have spent some time in a few shady places. He once told me that he had beaten the champion of West Virginia in a game of pool. I guess you have to be pretty good to beat the state champion of any sport.
"Hey, Dad. What's your high run?" I once asked him while we were shooting pool. "One forty-nine," he said, without even looking up. Holy shit… I must have been only about ten years old at the time, and I didn't immediately grasp the enormity of that number, but I quickly realized it meant making 149 consecutive shots without missing. That's ten fuckin' racks!
You have to know what you're doing to polish off that many balls without screwing up. And that little piece of information, coupled with the times I saw him execute trick shots and one-handed shots, made me wonder even more about his elusive past. Perhaps, when he was younger, he lived life in the fast lane and we had much more in common than one might think. Maybe, just maybe, Carl Frehley kicked some ass. It's kinda fun to think so, anyway. I grew up just off Mosholu Parkway in the Bronx, not far from the New York Botanical Garden and Bronx Zoo. It was a middle-class neighborhood of mixed ethnic backgrounds, consisting of mostly German, Irish, Jewish, and Italian families. Ours was pretty normal and loving, a fact I came to appreciate even more after I began hanging out with some serious badasses who were always trying to escape their violent and abusive home lives. Conversely, my dad never hit or abused me as a child, but I often wondered how much he really cared about me since we never did anything together one-on-one. Now as I think back, I realize more and more that he loved me, and that he did the best he could under the circumstances. It's pretty hard to look at the Frehleys and suggest that my upbringing contributed in any way to my wild and crazy lifestyle and the insanity that was to ensue. Sure, my dad was a workaholic and never home, but there was always food on the table, and we all felt secure. My parents enjoyed a happy and affectionate marriage—I can still see them holding hands as they walked down the street, or kissing when Dad came home from work. They always seemed happy together, and there was very little fighting at home. We had relatives in Brooklyn and North Carolina, all on my mother's side, but I knew very little about my dad's side of the family. There were no photo albums or letters, no interesting stories or visits from aunts and uncles. Nothing. I knew he had a brother who had tragically drowned at age eight, but the rest was sketchy at best. When I tried to ask him for more details, my mom would intervene. "Don't push your father," she'd say. "It's too painful for him." So I'd let it go. People who know me only as the Spaceman probably find this hard to believe, but I was raised in a family that stressed education and religion. My parents also understood the value of the arts and sciences. The way I'm fascinated with computers and guitars, my dad was fascinated with motors and electrical circuits, and he used to build his own batteries in the basement as a child. I know he was very good at what he did because in addition to his work at West Point, he also serviced the elevator motors in the Empire State Building, and was involved in designing the backup ignition system for the Apollo spacecraft for NASA. He had notebooks filled with formulas and sketches, projects he worked on until the wee hours of the morning. So my parents emphasized learning, and two of their three children got the message. My sister, Nancy, who is eight years my senior, was a straight-A student who went on to get a master's degree in chemistry; she taught high school chemistry for a while before getting married to start a family. My brother, Charles, was an honors student as well. He studied classical guitar at New York University, where he finished tenth in his class. Then there was me, Paul Frehley, the youngest of three kids and the black sheep to boot. In the beginning I enjoyed school and team sports, but as I got older, my social life and music began taking precedence over my studies. I remember coming home with B's, C's, and D's on my report card and hearing my parents complain. "Why can't you be more like Charlie and Nancy?" I'd just throw up my hands. Between bands and girlfriends, who had time to study? "You're wasting your life, Paul," my dad would say, shaking his head. Once, just to prove a point, I told my parents that I'd study hard for a semester and prove I was just as bright as my brother and sister. And you know what? I got all A's and B's on the next report card. (Much later, it was the same sort of "I told you so" attitude that would compel me to challenge the other guys in KISS to an IQ test. Just for the record, I scored highest: 163, which is considered "genius.") Now, I know I drove my parents crazy, but God had other plans for me. It all stemmed from something I sensed at an early age: the desire to become a rock star and follow my dreams. Crazy as that sounds, I really believed it would happen. You can partially credit my blind ambition to Mom and Dad! You see, if there was a common thread within our family, it was music. Thanks to the influence of our parents, all the Frehley kids played instruments. My father was an accomplished concert pianist: he could perform Chopin and Mozart effortlessly. My mom played the piano, too, and she enjoyed banging out a few tunes at family gatherings. Charlie and Nancy took piano lessons and performed at recitals as well. They eventually started fooling around with the guitar and formed a folk group, but that was never my cup of tea. From the beginning, I was drawn to rock 'n' roll and started figuring out songs by the Beatles and the Stones on my brother's acoustic guitar. One day, by chance, I picked up my friend's new electric guitar and checked it out. I plugged it in, turned the amp up to ten, and strummed a power chord. I immediately fell in love. It was a life-changing event! I was only twelve, but I was totally hooked. Within a couple of years I had a Fender Tele and a Marshall amp in my bedroom, and I'd sold my soul to rock 'n' roll. There was no turning back. My parents were not entirely unsupportive of my obsession (Dad even bought me my first electric guitar as a Christmas present), probably because it beat the alternative. There were worse vices, worse behavior, as I'd already demonstrated. See, at the same time that I was teaching myself guitar and forming my first band, I was also running with a pretty tough crowd. So while it may be true that the rock 'n' roll lifestyle nearly killed me as an adult, it's also true that without music, I might never have made it to adulthood in the first place. I started hanging out with the toughest guys in the neighborhood when I was still in grammar school, playing poker, drinking, cutting school—generally just looking for trouble. At first I was uncomfortable with some of the things I had to do, but I learned pretty quickly that alcohol made everything a lot easier. I didn't like to fight, but fearlessness came with a few beers. Talking to girls was sometimes awkward, but with a little buzz I could charm them right out of their pants. The first drink? I remember it well. Every drinker remembers his first drink, just as vividly as he remembers his first fuck. I was eleven years old and hanging out with my brother and his friend Jeffrey. Jeff's father had a small cabin on City Island in the Bronx, and we went there one Friday after school. The plan was to do some fishing and hang out. I loved fishing when I was a kid; I still do. And it was on that weekend that I discovered that beer went hand in hand with fishing. Jeff's dad had left a six-pack of Schaefer beer in the fridge, and we each had a can or two. Not exactly hard-core drinking, but enough to get me comfortably numb. I can remember exactly how it felt, smooth and dry. Pretty soon I felt kind of lightheaded and silly, and I couldn't stop laughing. Then I passed out. The next thing I remember is waking up in the morning with a slight headache and a dry mouth, but to be honest, I couldn't wait to do it again. And I didn't wait. Not long, anyway.
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