WOKE UP THIS MORNING

They say don’t meet your heroes. But they’re wrong.

What they should be saying is, when you meet one of your heroes— no, when you interview one of your heroes because it’s your job—for God’s sake, don’t let him know until after you’ve asked all your stupid little questions.

I showed up at Ace Frehley’s home in scenic, where-the-hell-are-we Sparta, New Jersey, on a sunny early-October afternoon with my good friend Jamie, who was accompanying me as both a first-rate photographer and my own personal fanboy bullshit detector. You see, when it comes to meeting Ace, I need to be kept on a very short leash. The mission was simple: to try to unravel some of that Spaceman mystique as a hardhitting CREEM reporter while not revealing to him that he’s defined coolness for me since I was a 6-year-old KISS fan in 1978 and hey would it be okay if I moved in here with you and we built some kinda life together? (I did eventually ask that, well into our fourth hour. His response: “Well, there’s five bedrooms.” That’s not a no!)

But first I met his remarkably grounded fiancee Lara at the door, who escorted me and Jamie into the billiard room to await the master of the house.

Much of the place was already decorated for Halloween, and also, it appeared, for a pop-up KISS convention. (Ace fans, if you’ve ever sent him something you made, rest assured it’s leaning against a wall somewhere in his house.) I’m not sure whether it was the New Jersey zip code, the long, curvy driveway, or the way each well-appointed room seemed to signify hard-won but kitschy abundance, but I was getting a heavy Sopranos vibe. It also could’ve been the fact that Lara’s kid was literally watching an episode from season 3 on a huge flat-screen when we passed through the living room.

After about five minutes of sitting at the bar by the pool table, taking in the walls of fan art and framed honors whose significance is by now blissfully lost on their recipient (a refrain of the afternoon: “I don’t know what that is or where I got it”), I was struck by the echoing sound of Cuban heels thunking down a long wooden staircase in the main hall. I inhaled deeply and braced myself under the “Let’s Make Pour Choices” sign. Space Ace had landed, entering the room in a newly svelte 180-pound frame and apologizing for the wait.

“I couldn’t get off the phone today. Peter called me.”

Yep, Peter Criss. The former KISS drummer and lead guitarist are still tight. In fact, on this particular day at least, Ace was not in the mood to talk shit about anyone in KISS. And when it comes to remaining original KISS members Paul Stanley and Gene Simmons, that is not always the case.

But Ace begs to differ. “We always get along! You know, for some reason everybody thinks that we feud. Me and Paul had our differences a couple months ago, but I could call any of those guys right now and they’d talk to me.”

To bring you up to speed on those “differences,” the topic is the end of KISS. When the band supposedly finishes up, in the words of a March press release, “the absolute final shows of their final tour,” in December of this year, will Ace be there at Madison Square Garden to shoot bottle rockets out of his Les Paul one last time with the fellas? Not for a penny under $500K, he says. Did the Starchild and the Demon take the offer? “They haven't responded. And I don’t think they will, because it’s all about pride.” Great, we got that out of the way (and besides, readers, you’ll have your answer by the time you crack open this issue. Here’s hoping Ace got the half mil he deserves and the crowd got a decent “Shock Me”). Now let’s have some fun. In fact, let’s go downstairs to his $200,000 recording studio that’s lit up like E.T.’s spaceship and listen to some brand-new Ace tunes.

The album, 10,000 Volts, is slated for release early next year. Mostly co-written and co-produced by Steve Brown of Trixter, it’s got all the hallmarks of a classic Ace Lrehley solo record: There’s the song that references space (“Walkin’ on the Moon”), the one that references being shocked by electricity (the title track and first single), the handful featuring longtime Ace drummer Anton Pig (rockin’ together since the ’78 solo album!), even the always expected instrumental, untitled at the time of writing. But there’s something different about this latest batch of songs: Ace’s voice. It’s got a clarity, a strength, a joy to it that I haven’t quite heard from him before.

Okay, Ace, at 72, you’re in the best shape of your life, you’re on the East Coast again in this bailer Tony S. house after a yearslong stint in San Diego (back in the... New Jersey groove?), and your latest tunes are almost power pop in their crunchy, rapturous hooks and shockingly robust vocals. You’re not even bashing Paul Stanley today. What gives?

Immediately, he credits his brideto-be. “Y’know, Lara’s a personal trainer. She cooks organic and all that stuff. We got engaged, y’know, so everything’s great.... I’ve never been this healthy and this happy, and it comes through in the music.”

Awww, Ace is in love. And we love that for him. But what about your ex?

“Even though me and Paul have our disagreements, I still love him. We founded the biggest theatrical rock group in the world. I was talkin’ to Peter today. He goes, ‘Ace, people are gonna be listening to our records 50 years from now.’ I go, ‘I know, after we’re dead and buried.’”

Dead and buried? Perish the thought. But do meet your heroes. Tell them you love them, even if it’s under your breath. Ask them the questions that are too stupid to be asked. Badger them into giving you some of their computer art from 1992. Then badger them into signing it. And for every 10 times you walk away disappointed, maybe you'll get one Ace day like mine. Hold out for that Ace day.

In other words, don’t stop believin’. [Cut to black.]