KISS
– Destroyer
Subtlety was never KISS’s game, and Destroyer is proof that sometimes, bigger really is better. After years of riding on sheer bravado and pyrotechnics, this was the album where they actually tightened up, refined their sound, and—dare I say it—got ambitious. Bob Ezrin, the same mad scientist who helped shape Alice Cooper’s biggest records, took the band’s raw energy and sculpted it into something grander, something built for arenas and car stereos alike. The result? An album that doesn’t just roar; it struts, swings, and occasionally even soars.
For a band that built its reputation on greasepaint, fire, and sheer spectacle, Destroyer feels shockingly well-crafted. The production is massive—echoing drums, layered guitars, choirs, orchestras, the whole cinematic treatment—but it never loses the punch that made KISS great in the first place. The songs are bigger, more dramatic, but they still hit like a beer bottle smashing against the stage. Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons trade off between bombastic rockers and sleazy anthems, while Ace Frehley’s guitar work burns through the mix like a Roman candle.
This is the album where KISS became more than just a live act; they became a studio powerhouse. From the anthemic to the downright bizarre, Destroyer stretches KISS’s sound in ways that would shape the band for decades. And yet, for all its sonic upgrades, it never loses sight of what makes KISS KISS: the kind of reckless, fist-pumping, borderline ridiculous fun that rock and roll is supposed to be.
Choice Tracks
Detroit Rock City
A full-blown rock opera packed into five minutes. The revving engines, the tragic narrative, the galloping riff—it’s KISS at their most cinematic. It’s also the rare KISS song that carries real emotional weight, proving that even behind all the flash, they could tell a damn good story.
God of Thunder
Gene Simmons at his most demonic. The song lurches forward like a monster waking up from the depths, drenched in eerie sound effects and doom-laden riffs. It’s slow, heavy, and dripping with menace, cementing Simmons as the fire-breathing overlord of KISS’s empire.
Shout It Out Loud
If “Rock and Roll All Nite” was the ultimate KISS party anthem, this was its smarter, sharper cousin. Dual vocals, punchy guitars, a chorus tailor-made for fists in the air—this was the song built for summer nights and endless encores.
Beth
The curveball. The song that proved KISS could do tenderness—whether they liked it or not. Peter Criss’s heartfelt ballad about a lonely rock star missing home could have been a throwaway, but the lush strings and delicate piano made it a hit. Somehow, it worked, and suddenly KISS had a sensitive side (whether the rest of the band wanted to admit it or not).
Flaming Youth
Pure teenage rebellion in under three minutes. The lyrics are half nonsense, but that chorus, that riff—it’s the kind of track that makes you feel 17 again, even if you haven’t been for decades. It’s KISS distilled to its most infectious essence.
Destroyer wasn’t just another KISS record—it was a reinvention. It took everything ridiculous, over-the-top, and wonderful about the band and cranked it up even higher. Bigger, bolder, and somehow both tighter and weirder at the same time, it was the moment KISS stopped being just a band and became rock ‘n’ roll superheroes. And really, what else could they have ever been?