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Ah, yes, it‘s COLD GIN time again. This had started as a cure for boredom. Once an album is recorded, there may be as much as nine months of downtime. During this pregnant pause, we had to find something to do. For fun, the elements that became COLD GIN would play KISS songs at anyone’s party that would allow us to touch the instruments for more than two seconds.

The response was usually overwhelming.

PLEASE STOP!

Actually, while playing at a Jaime St. James birthday party we noticed that it really sounded good. This was after we stopped singing God of Thunder under the influence of the party’s balloons. It went over so well, that drunken revelers (although at Jaime’s party this description is redundant) were still talking about it into the next week.

We figured it was fun enough for a public display. At the time LA had communal gear gigs where a backline of equipment was set-up and roughly a dozen bands would all pollute the stage, playing desperately for record company execs they thought were in the audience. Then they'd go home and tell their girlfriends how their big deal was eminent. Most nights it sounded like all of the bands were playing at once, but that’s another story.

We found one of these gigs, set up a paper KISS sign behind us, and fired up the set list. We were wearing jeans, t-shirts, and smiles. And the place went nuts.

Hmmm…we may be on to something, the four heads thought.

So, we booked another communal gig. Packed.

Another. Jammed.

One more. SRO.

Jaime at this point was not satisfied with the progress of the band. He dared us to put the make-up on. We balked. He pushed. We hemmed. He pushed. We panicked. He pushed.

"Look at it this way: we’ll either be the Heroes of Hollywood or the goats! And I ain’t gonna be no goat!"

That kind of logic we had a hard time arguing with. Fuelled with daring by the pride of Portland, Oregon the band applied Jaime’s make-up suggestion on a blazing Sunday night in North Hollywood.

It was one of the hottest gigs I had ever played in my life. And one of the most amazing. We got an explosive response.

Now it was Tommy's turn to push. Thankfully, he had two important things going for him. Well, three if you count his uncanny ability to imitate Ace’s playing.

One-he actually cared enough to organize the business end of things. The booking, the accounting, the scheduling, the quality control. Without that COLD GIN (and the ensuing KISS reunion tour) would have been lost, because the rest of us were certainly having too much fun to actually consider a plan for our success.

Two-he knew Gene and Paul well enough to get their blessing. Blessing is the code word for no injunctions.

On Halloween of 1991, we had played a costume ball in Hollywood. It was natural to have four skinny guys dressed like KISS as the entertainment, right? Yes, it was.

Again, a smash. After that show came the Thayer push.

"Y’know, we ought to do this all out."

"Waddaya mean, Bison?"

"I mean get the costumes, the shoes. All out. Right now it’s kind of low budget. We can do better."

He was right. We figured it was easiest to re-create the era that we loved, and was the easiest to reproduce in a club setting. ALIVE was our template and costumes were sewed, platforms were made, and hair weezie-ed. We went over old video tapes, learned the set list and exact choreography.

While this was all happening, we were quietly becoming the biggest draw on the L.A. entertainment scene. This was before "tribute bands" were littering the American club landscape. We were providing a diversion for all of the L.A. musicians who were gritting their teeth and trying to make it big.

No matter what, you went back in time at a COLD GIN show. You forgot you were working in the music business and remembered why you began playing music. At our shows, everybody was 15 and air-guitaring to Strutter.

And the painted beast grew. Soon enough we got the attention of Gene and Paul. They had heard of our silliness through the grapevine, and had asked Tommy about it. Tommy invited them down to see for themselves.

One night at FM Station, Simmons and Stanley walked in and every jaw in the room dropped, including theirs. They looked at us like two proud uncles.

Gene helped me put on my costume, Tommy insulted the absent Bill Aucoin, Paul helped Anthony with his make-up, Jaime made Gene laugh and we all giggled to ourselves.