Ra Ra Riot

Rock history is littered with tragedies. In 2007 Ra Ra Riot joined that unfortunate lineage with the unthinkable drowning death of hyper-talented drummer/lyricist John Pike in the midst of a tour just prior to the release of their debut EP. Pike's loss came at an ironically joyful time as the band was riding a wave of media buzz in the wake of their astonishing performances at 2006's CMJ and 2007's SXSW events, sparking speculation of imminent label interest.

In a show of internal strength, Ra Ra Riot elected to soldier on (with longtime band friend Mike Ashley filling the immense void left by Pike's untimely passing) and to try to capitalize on the positivity generated in the weeks before the tragedy. By all accounts, the band has become an emotional force of nature on stage, honoring the memory of their fallen friend with performances stoked with a visceral grace.

The dedicated qualities that Ra Ra Riot has exhibited in the face of loss are the foundation of the six songs that inhabit their eponymous debut. The chamber Pop sextet's six-song set recalls the best moments of '80s New Wave dramatists like Echo and the Bunnymen with a distinct R.E.M. flavor, heightened and lightened by cello and violin flourishes and informed by a melodicism that wire-walks between Emo gravity and Pop levity.

On "Everest," vocalist Wesley Miles caterwauls like a young Sting and the band provides a similarly energetic and dark Police presence (without the Reggae fixation), while "Can You Tell" pulses with a Dexy's Midnight Runners Pop vibe. Clearly, Ra Ra Riot's first recorded foray proves them to be talented enough to build on their youthful potential and their subsequent live appearances have shown that they possess the fortitude to rise above their tragic circumstance, miraculously channeling their grief into triumph. (Brian Baker)

Gods of Kansas with Confederacy of Horsepower, Sex & Patriotism and A Nervous Wreck

Thursday · Dirty Jack's

Detroit gets the lion's share of attention in any story about the music scene in Michigan, and rightly so. As the birthplace of Motown Records and the launching pad for Iggy and the Stooges and the MC5, that's a fair cop. But nearly everyone who has claimed the Motor City as their home has ultimately come from some other locale within the state.

These days, the Detroit bullet point on your Rock résumé is not as important as it seemed to be in the old days, and Gods of Kansas is an interesting case in point. The Kalamazoo quartet is a sonic throwback to the halcyon days of '80s Hair Metal with a minor in Classic Rock and an emphasis on melodic riffs and elaborate stage presentation. It would seem that GOK fits the bill for a band that would embrace Detroit as a surrogate home, or at least a base of operations, but in fact lead vocalist/bassist Reo Youngs and guitarist Mike Beurge formed the band four years ago when they relocated from rural Clinton county to Kalamazoo (not Detroit, thank you very much).

GOK's early lineup rotated frequently, but the late 2006 additions of drummer Danny Hough and guitarist Chris Youngs (Reo's brother) has given the band a stable and potent roster. Gods of Kansas -- named after a magazine article about UFOs and aliens -- has maintained their independence, recording both of their albums at home in Kazoo and building a grassroots fan base. Their eponymous debut came out last year, and their sophomore album, Ride the Dragon, is due next month.

With acclaimed opening slots for Nazereth, W.A.S.P. and Winger, an ass-pocket of thunderously suggestive tunes and a swaggering take-no-prisoners attitude, Ted Nugent had better watch his bowhunting back -- Gods of Kansas might just out-wango his tango. (BB)

ACE FREHLEY

Tuesday · Bogart's

When KISS was interviewed on NBC's Tomorrow Show in 1979 in full make-up and regalia, it was clear from Ace Frehley's crazy cackle that he was unglued, untethered, off the leash and most certainly not controlled by Gene Simmons' angry dagger glares. Simmons' demonic powers apparently did not include the ability to rein in Space Ace Frehley, who stole the show with his speed-freak stream-of-altered-consciousness rants that had host Tom Snyder in stitches.

On record and on stage, Ace kept pace with all the Hard Rock guitar heroes of his day. KISS' reputation as a Heavy Metal circus act did not disguise the fact that those were high-voltage Chuck Berry riffs spitting out of Ace's Les Paul like a flame-thrower. In those days before the Internet, rumors were sketchy and unreliable -- reports of any kind were few and far between. But when Ace first left KISS in 1983 due to "health problems," it was soon widely known that the real reason for his sacking was alcohol abuse. The band became an even worse hackfest without the one original member who actually had some chops, but Ace's post-KISS solo stuff was spotty at best. He made a record every few years and toured very little, but even keeping this relatively low profile Ace always maintained a reputation as a guitar god and a raging party animal.

KISS' self-imposed unmasking, financial de-pantsing, frequent lineup changes and steady decline through the '80s and '90s is well-documented. For a band that was more about flash and fire than the music from the outset, they sucked and struggled more than ever until the inevitable reunion tour in 1995. In the early days the bands' profits went back into their stage show and a series of bad investments. Hard to believe, but it's been said that the reunion tour was the first time in their career that KISS made any real money. Think of that: Who the fuck was banking on all those KISS lunchboxes and shit? By 2002, Ace was sick of the circus again and left with a laugh, saying, "This fucking 'farewell tour' has been going on for seven years!"

I don't listen to my KISS records very much anymore. But I will always owe a debt of gratitude to Ace for being the guy who first inspired me to pick up a guitar. Over the years my tastes have changed, but my guitar is my constant companion. When I was a kid I wanted to be Ace Frehley when I grew up. Ironically, this very same childhood obsession with learning to play guitar also lead me to the conclusion that "growing up" was for assholes. Then the unthinkable happened: Ace grew up. Word is that for the first time in his adult life, Ace Frehley is sober.

Even under the make-up, Ace's complexion always made him look like a man of wax who stood too close to a fire. His hairline is creeping skyward now, but his brown hair still falls about his shoulders. Long gone is the silver symmetry of his face-paint design from the old days. In its place we find a scraggly goatee and ever-present pair of dark sunglasses resting atop a nose that must have snorted a hundred miles of white lines in its day.

A lot of guys who lived that Rock Star lifestyle didn't survive. It's against all odds that Ace is still standing, even about to release his first new album in many years.

Once a notorious drunk slacker cokehead and improbable role model for any kid, Ace is now doing what I would have once thought impossible for him: He's kicked the bottle at age 57. I'll drink to that. (Ric Hickey)