How I Spent My Spring Vacation on Tour with KISS in Japan

Believe it or not, American universities offer courses on the ethics of journalism. Yes, you can sleep that much more soundly tonight knowing that the budding Dan Rathers and Cokie Robertses of the world are, perhaps right now, hard at work studying and pondering the evil ways of their predecessors so they may serve Truth that much more earnestly, that much more piously.

I'm sure you're wondering just what the hell journalistic ethics have to do with KISS' farewell tour of Japan. More than is readily apparent, trust me. Any KISS collector worth his Rub 'N' Plays is aware of the article about KISS' tour here in 1977 that appeared in Playboy, then the hippest, swankiest magazine whose pages any rock band could hope to grace. That piece was written by just one of a gaggle of journalists invited by KISS to cover that first bigger-than-The-Beatles swing across Nippon. Airfare, hotels, booze, bullet trains, entertainment, etc. -- all compliments of Aucoin Management, thank you.

This schmoozefest was a classic junket, probably the most nefarious ethical booby trap of 20th century journalism: The writer gets everything gratis from the person or organization he�s covering and in return submits 5,000 gushing, glowing, sycophantic words for the world to read. Objectivity and true reportage go down the drain with the vodka backwash.

You're still wondering why I'm blathering about esoteric media guidelines. Other than the fact that I love talking journalism ethics, this reporter was on a quasi-junket for what was allegedly KISS' final tour of Japan. I testify openly and of my own freewill that KISSONLINE arranged for me to receive a ticket and a media pass to each of the seven shows. In return, I was to supply reports and photos -- the standard journalistic stuff -- from the road. Would I let perks influence my prose? Would access lead to excess? Would Walter Cronkite slather on Gene Simmons makeup, don a studded codpiece and sing "Goin' Blind" to a star-struck gathering of White House stringers?

The answers, naturally, are no, no and yes. Er, no.

As it turned out, I wasn't able to file unbiased reports and photos from the road because, incredibly, I couldn't get connected to the Internet. (Perhaps if KISSONLINE had sprung for a posh hotel in each town I might have had some connectivity. If there's a next time, Mike, see to it, okay?) So much for the IT revolution plunging deep into every crevice of Japanese society. I've seen more dynamic revolutions as a Ferris wheel unloaded its passengers.

Now I'm back in Tokyo, home to phone jacks, USB cables and steady power supplies, so I can dig in and set to work on a longer, meatier piece about the tour, its highlights and lowlights (there's them ethics again), and what it was like to be a part of KISS' last hurrah in Nippon, a country with which they share a unique and storied history. The purpose of this article is not to recount the minutiae of each show, which has already been documented by other reviews sent to KISSONLINE -- Paul singing part of "I Want You" or Ace's guitar strings breaking or going out of tune. Instead, I want to place the tour in cultural perspective, to give fans around the world an idea of what it's like to see a concert in Japan, travel in Japan and confront the idiosyncrasies of Japan. And, of course, cast some light upon the KISS-Japan relationship.