Compiled from previous posts, this is not part of my book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1).
An infinite number of tracks can each be THE greatest record ever made, as long as they take turns. Today, this is THE GREATEST RECORD EVER MADE!
KISS: Calling Dr. Love
Written by Gene Simmons
Produced by Eddie Kramer
Single from the album Rock And Roll Over, Casablanca Records, 1976
The greatest record ever made? Perhaps...not. But when I was 17, I sure thought "Calling Dr. Love" was a viable candidate.
I'm used to people rolling their eyes whenever I say something positive about KISS. When that happens, I have a wide variety of two-word replies at the ready, and I usually settle on "Okay, then," because I'm, y'know...polite.
I don't claim to be one of the most avid KISS fans on the whole friggin' planet, but I've always liked them. Dig what you dig. You don't like KISS? Yeah, you've gotta dig what you dig, too.
The rest of you? You wanted the best. You've got the best. The hottest band in the world. KISS!!!
Well..."best" for rhetorical purposes anyway.
Still, it's not faint praise. KISS was the the headlining act at my first rock concert. KISS was also the subject of my first magazine cover story as a freelance writer. If KISS isn't quite (or anywhere near) as high in my rockin' pop pantheon as the Beatles, the Ramones, and the Flashcubes, I have a specific affection for KISS. I always will. My book The Greatest Record Ever Made! (Volume 1) includes a chapter on "Shout It Out Loud." I still wear my KISS t-shirt pretty regularly, and I'm always eager to get right back in the face of any punter who dares to question my right to like KISS if I want to like KISS.
My KISStory began near the end of 1976, the fall semester of my senior year in high school. I was already at least peripherally aware of KISS; the raucous "Rock And Roll All Nite" and the syrupy ballad "Beth" were welcome components of time spent in communion with Top 40 radio on Syracuse's WOLF-AM. But I had no real specific interest in the group prior to that December, when my friend Tom suggested we go to a KISS concert.
What the hell. Why not?
A Christmas gift from family netted me the six bucks I needed for a ticket to see KISS with special guest Uriah Heep. KISS is a fantastic choice for one's first rock concert, a spectacle that can make ya scream for MORE!!, an urgent demand for crass, delighted overabundance. I've described KISS elsewhere as the definitive '70s rock band: Loud, garish, celebratory, and as infectious as an arena cheer. Heading into the concert, I was curious and eager; by the time the lights came back on, I was a KISS fan.
It still took me a little while to get around to owning a KISS record. I bought KISS's appearances in Marvel Comics' Howard The Duck and their own fire-breathin', printed-in-KISS-blood Marvel Comics Super Special.
And I fell hard for the AM radio hit "Calling Dr. Love."
Man, I loved that track! I suggested with great passion that our North Syracuse Central High School Class of '77 really oughta have "Calling Dr. Love" blarin' as we marched in to claim our hard- (or barely-) earned diplomas. That plan did not come to pass. I almost bought the 45 at Gerber Music. I held off, suspecting I might be receiving the song soon enough via other means.
My first KISS record was the Rock And Roll Over album, a high school graduation gift from my sister in 1977. "Calling Dr. Love" was far, far and away my favorite track on the LP. I listened to the whole album pretty frequently that summer, a go-to alongside my Beatles, Monkees, Sweet, Rubinoos, Fleetwood Mac, Raspberries, and Boston LPs. I was on the verge of discovering punk, an interest sparked by Phonograph Record Magazine, ignited when WOUR-FM played the Sex Pistols, fanned into a raging inferno when I heard the Ramones' "Sheena Is A Punk Rocker."
"Calling Dr. Love" is not a punk record. But let's consider it a gateway. Not the only one I've ever had. We know what the problem is. The first step of the cure is...KISS!
I like KISS. I don't like 'em without reservation, and I don't bother trying to make excuses for bassist Gene Simmons and his frequently boorish behavior. I don't like everything they've done, nor even most of it.
But what I like, I like a lot. Call the doctor. The doctor is in.
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