Fukuoka: Go West, Young Man!

Get out your maps of Japan. Find Tokyo with your index finger, then glide it southwestward along the underside of Honshu, the big island. Skim the top edges of Shikoku as you pass under Hiroshima, till you arrive at Fukuoka in the northwest corner of the island of Kyushu.

Quite a ride, huh? The trip from Tokyo to Fukuoka constitutes a major cross-country trek in Japan, which is roughly the size of California. Even the fastest grade of shinkansen, the nozomi, which reaches speeds of 300 miles per kilometer (about 190 mph), takes four and a half hours to make the run. A plane is three hours faster and a bit cheaper, but there�s just something about being on the bullet train � it�s cool, it�s romantic, it�s strangely calming, it�s a uniquely Japanese experience.

Way back when the Japan tour was scheduled for November, I began hearing all kinds of rumors about the gig at Fukuoka International Center, a gymnasium-like edifice about one block from the ocean. One person with a source at Udo told me there would be no pyro because the place was just too tiny, a fire waiting to happen. Another fan, a guy I see regularly in the record shops around Tokyo, told me he was certain KISS was going to do an acoustic set in jeans and T-shirts. Yet another guy heard that the band would perform in a theater-in-the-round configuration. Next thing you know, Peter would be showing up to sing "You Matter To Me."

I had never been to Fukuoka, and knew little about it other than it was famous for little sidewalk booths that sold delicious ramen noodles. As my train sped toward the city, through tunnels and tea fields, I wondered what things would be like once I got there. The whole trip was an enigma.

The day of the show, Friday, March 16, was warmish and overcast. At 3:30, I hopped a cab from my hotel near the main train station to the venue. When I arrived, the yakuza scalpers were out in force, as were Udo employees running to-and-fro to set up merchandise in a large white tent to the left of the front doors. A two-person film crew, gaijin, darted about to get shots of the hall, fans as they arrived on foot and by bus and taxi, and anything else they deemed of interest. They were from the Associated Press.

Actually, very little of interest was happening, so I decided to stroll over to the waterfront to take a look at a big ocean liner I had seen when my cabby dropped me off. Sure enough, there it sat at dock, flanked by smaller vessels in an area of the harbor that didn't appear to see a lot of action. Apart from a sightseeing cruise, a chartered fishing boat loaded with salty old men and small pockets of KISS fans milling about the dock-side restaurants, there was not much going on. I high-stepped into an Italian joint to eat and kill time.

It was almost 5:30 when I walked back to the International Center, where the atmosphere had changed considerably. The line at the merchandise tent snaked through four or five rows of gated walkway, then shot off, like comet's tail, all the way around the side of the hall. Buses were arriving every 10 minutes, taxis every few seconds, each unloading scores of fans, a surprising number of whom were sporting makeup and costumes. The intensity and mood of this burgeoning crowd was two or three notches higher than anything I sensed at Yokohama or Tokyo. Excitement had come to noodle town.

I picked up my media pass and ticket at 6:00, then waited another 20 minutes to go inside. When I did pass through one of the banks of double doors, I was engulfed in smoke. If I hadn't known better, I would have concluded that the concert had started without me. It was not flashpot discharges but cigarette smoke hanging heavily in the air of the entrance. This place was small! On either side of the lobby, a flight of steps went up to the second level. On the ground floor, there appeared to be only three entrances into the concert area, one center, one right and one left, each along a single hallway that ran the length of the building. It was in this constricted first-floor corridor that KISS fans were smoking like chimneys and emptying the vending machines of Cokes, Sprites, sports drinks, coffee and tea.

Fukuoka was the first real photo-op of the tour, primarily because there was no place for photographers to stand other than right in front of the stage. Indeed, the venue was small, the polar opposite of the Tokyo Dome, probably 2,500 seats on the floor and space for another 2,500 or so in bleacher-style seats on the upper level -- the crowd at Yokohama 1 would have seemed large there. I flashed my blue media pass, walked into the pit and got set up for my three songs of picture-taking.

With 30 minutes till the show began, I had plenty of time to survey the crowd. Definitely a sell-out, definitely an audience ready to vent a vast amount of pent-up energy, like one of the earthquakes that frequently rattles Kyushu. Paul's little podium for "Love Gun" was set up right by the soundboard, only 30 or 40 rows from the stage. Some diligent workers managed to get all four inflatables positioned in the right and left corners of the hall, two per side. They looked especially large in the cramped quarters.

Despite the rumors, KISS did not saunter onto the stage in street clothes and sandals, acoustic instruments slung across their backs. No, it was the standard show with the standard amount of fire, rockets, sparklers, blood and confetti. Being up close and personal with the band during the first three tunes was an adrenaline rush I won't soon forget: I ran from one side of the stage to the other, and back, snapping pics, pushing my Kodak and its four rechargeable batteries to perform as they've never performed before. If you check out the photos in the "See It!" section, you'll see that my efforts bore some juicy fruit.

A few interesting notes to Fukuoka: In the audience, right by Paul's stage, was Marilyn Manson's latest guitarist, John "John 5" Lowery. MM had played Fukuoka a night or two before, and John 5, a KISS fan, stuck around for the gig. After the show, he showed his mettle by commenting on "Talk To Me" and letting me check out the severed, autographed neck of a Washburn, a gift from Paul. A nice person, soft-spoken and very easy to talk to.

Another interesting thing was watching the cleanup crew sweeping confetti from the floor and stuffing it into large plastic bags. KISS recycles! Probably more of a financial consideration than a tree-hugging environmental statement (I'm told the confetti is flame retardant and expensive), but it was nice to see nevertheless.

The last quasi-interesting thing was to see how the band left the venue. At a small garage exit behind the right side of the stage sat two metallic-beige Toyota minivans, the fleet vehicle of choice among Japan's better hotels. About 40 minutes after the concert ended, in the midst of the stage being broken down and the confetti being repossessed, out walked Ace from behind center stage. He waved, ducked into one of the vans and was chauffeured away. Paul and Eric shared a van shortly afterward. I didn't see Gene. He was probably ... Well, we can venture a guess.