“HE WAS SUCH A FREAK…” – At 73, Paul Stanley Finally OPENS UP About Ace Frehley

 

 

 

 

Paul Stanley has spent over half a century living in the spotlight, fronting one of the most iconic rock bands in history—KISS.

Throughout the years, he’s remained relatively diplomatic when it comes to discussing the inner workings of the band, especially when it came to former lead guitarist Ace Frehley.

But now, in a rare, unfiltered interview, Stanley has finally opened up in a way fans have never seen before.

His words are brutally honest, tinged with nostalgia, frustration, and perhaps a lingering sense of disbelief.

“He was such a freak,” Stanley said, shaking his head with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

And with that single sentence, he opened the door to a side of KISS history many have only speculated about.

Ace Frehley has always been a fan favorite—the “Spaceman” with wild solos, unpredictable behavior, and an energy that gave the band its chaotic edge.

 

 

 

 

 

But according to Stanley, the chaos wasn’t just part of the act.

It was real, relentless, and often destructive.

“People have no idea what we were dealing with,” Stanley continued.

“There were nights I didn’t know if he’d even show up, and if he did, there was no guarantee he could stand straight, let alone play.”

The stories of Ace’s partying have become legend, but Stanley’s tone suggests it wasn’t nearly as glamorous as fans might think.

There’s a sense of both admiration and disappointment in Stanley’s words.

He doesn’t deny Frehley’s talent—in fact, he openly praises it.

“Ace had this raw, instinctive way of playing.

 

 

 

 

 

He wasn’t classically trained, he didn’t care about theory, but he could pull something out of thin air that would make the whole room light up.”

That unpredictability was part of what made KISS so magnetic in its early years.

But it was also what nearly tore them apart.

Stanley recalled rehearsals derailed by drunken outbursts, missed flights, canceled interviews, and an ever-growing sense of instability that weighed heavily on the rest of the band.

Still, he doesn’t seem angry—at least not anymore.

If anything, there’s a tone of regret, like he’s spent years trying to understand how someone so gifted could be so self-destructive.

“It’s not that he didn’t care,” Stanley said.

“I think part of him cared too much.

But he didn’t know how to deal with it.

Fame, pressure, expectations… they can crush a person if they’re not ready.”

 

 

 

 

 

He spoke of interventions, late-night phone calls, and attempts to bring Frehley back into the fold over the years, some of which worked briefly, others that ended in disappointment.

When asked why he’s choosing to speak now, Stanley simply shrugged.

“I’m at a point in life where I want to be honest about the past.

Not to hurt anyone, but to clear the air—for myself, for the fans, for the story.”

He’s careful not to place all the blame on Ace.

He acknowledges that in the 1970s, they were all living hard, pushing limits, making decisions that didn’t always prioritize their health or future.

But while most of the band grew out of that lifestyle, Stanley says Ace never really did.

 

 

 

 

 

One story he shared stood out—a night in Tokyo, late ’70s, just before a major show.

Ace disappeared hours before they were due onstage.

Panic set in, calls were made, security searched everywhere.

Finally, someone found him asleep on the hotel roof, completely unaware of the chaos he’d caused.

“That was Ace,” Stanley said.

“Brilliant, unpredictable, and totally out of control.

You couldn’t stay mad because he’d make you laugh five minutes later.

But you couldn’t trust him, either.”

Even now, there’s no outright hostility in Stanley’s voice.

Despite everything, he clearly holds a place in his heart for Ace Frehley, though that space seems filled more with melancholy than affection.

He admits they’ve spoken occasionally in recent years, mostly through intermediaries or brief messages.

“I wish him well,” he said simply.

“Always have.

But I had to protect the band, and myself.”

 

 

 

 

 

For fans who’ve followed KISS for decades, this candid reflection offers a glimpse behind the masks—literal and figurative.

It’s a story of brotherhood, dysfunction, and the strange, fragile chemistry that fuels creative brilliance.

Paul Stanley has finally chosen to speak his truth about a man who helped shape rock history—and nearly unraveled it from within.