Eric Carr: The Picture of Class and Legend

April 30, 2011

*Comments:

*By clicking "Submit" you agree to the following Terms of Use. You agree not to post any material that is obscene, slanderous, or threatening, or that may violate any law of your country of origin or the United States or of international law. Should you wish to restrict viewing of your email address by third parties, you must select "Hide My Email." You agree to indemnify and hold harmless Metal Psalter from any claims, actions, suits, damages, or other costs arising out of any breach of these Terms of Use.

CHRIS

I suppose I should preface this article with the words no psychotic KISS fan wants to hear: I am not a raving KISS fan.

Yes, I own the albums from the 1973 debut up to Love Gun, then I skip the mundane and downright silly, only to stop briefly at Creatures of the Night, and then meander solemnly into Revenge, but that’s where it all ends for me. I enjoy some early stuff, and have been lucky enough to see the real KISS twice, but the pedestal that most KISS fans set up for the Gene and Paul worship both eludes and befuddles me. That said I am familiar with Eric Carr and what he brought to the table after 1980 saw Peter Criss’ departure under less-than-jake circumstances.   To  hear   both  sides   tell  it,  Criss

wanted out of the band and they in turn wanted him to leave, so in comes this unassuming Italian boy from Brooklyn in Paul Caravello, a one-time oven repairman who never let the lights and high life of rock ‘n roll lead him astray or swell his head.

You always hear the same lines about someone who has died: Oh, he/she was the most wonderful person; no one ever had a bad thing to say about him/her. If you try hard enough, Charles Manson might have at least one person out there say something similar about him, but after reading The Eric Carr Story by Greg Prato you just feel in your heart that Mr. Caravello was exactly that: one hell of a guy! He also appeared to be a guy with one hell of a juggling act between riding high with excitement and occasionally despising his employers. Let’s face facts, people; KISS is really “KISS Is Stanley and Simmons”; nothing but these two guys exists in the grand scheme of things, and any real music fan understands this. Eric Carr was caught in the horrible middle of a dream gig and personal slave with limited input or say in anything. For a solid musician and anyone with a creative spark and pride, this is a fate worse than death. He made the most of his big break and entered KISS on what was arguably the universally disliked Music From the Elder in 1981. While no one is really sure what the hell was going on in the KISS camp at this point, Mr. Carr made an indelible impression on his bosses by stepping up as “The Fox” and showing himself a drummer far surpassing his predecessor’s typical 2-4 abilities.

Through the subsequent albums of the 80’s that proved to be just as uneventful in the band’s illustrious career, such as Asylum, Crazy Nights, and Hot in the Shade, the machine that is KISS kept touring and kept Mr. Carr busy and happy, but also held him at bay creatively speaking. Here we had a man that was grateful for his spot in one of the world’s biggest bands, and yet he was miserable for a good portion of it, though he kept up the façade quite nicely. Unlike Ace Frehley, who left for the first time in 1982, Mr. Carr took things to a very deep internal level and grew to truly dislike his captors at times, to coin a phrase. Through the brief, yet entertaining Vinnie Vincent era through the Bruce Kulick years, we catch wonderful glimpses of life inside of KISS and Eric Carr’s growth. When Kulick eventually joined the fray he seemed a ready and willing ally for Mr. Carr, as both were essentially hired guns for the grand mechanism known as KISS. This was, without question, a model of the Beatles’ set up with John Lennon and Paul McCartney manning the ship while the deckhands in George Harrison and Ringo Starr swept the galley, occasionally coming up from the bottom to smell the fresh sea air. From the leanest of years up to the slight revitalization in 1990, the book chronicles some very sincere recollections about a guy that, quite frankly, you couldn’t find a bad anecdote about as he was really a consummate professional and gracious host, nearly to a fault.

As a casual fan I am glad that this book was completely devoid of the very one-sided view we usually have of Simmons and Stanley, which is definitely a plus. Seriously, who wants another book of total reverence and worship for KISS when we know exactly how the unit works and who commands the ship? There are no severe bashing moments of Gene and Paul, but you definitely see how the roost is managed, right down to the decision to fire Mr. Carr on the eve of his passing supposedly for his own good, so he could concentrate on ‘getting well’. If a bigger pile of crap was ever created I’d love to hear it! The business side of KISS was always top priority for Simmons and Stanley and, while understandable, it might have behooved them to err on the side of decency for the sake of their faithful and loyal drummer and friend, not to mention the fans that grew to love Mr. Carr. Even with all of the rumors and common knowledge surrounding the band there are some real eye-openers in this book.

The Eric Carr Story is a wonderful collective of anecdotal stories, humorous regaling, firsthand accounts and melancholy eulogies for a man who passed far earlier than he should have. Mr. Carr died on November 24, 1991 at 41-years of age from a rare heart cancer, the same day as Queen front man Freddie Mercury. I remember that day very well, as I actually wept like a silly kid for Mr. Mercury because, after all, I had grown up on his music and come to ‘know’ these musicians as long-lost friends or extended family that I never knew. I still have the original newspaper obituaries for both men in a photo album of autographs, ticket stubs, etc. I remember a little bit about Mr. Carr’s passing, much to my current dismay, save for a mention in said newspaper and a brief piece on MTV news. What I managed to ingest through nearly 300 pages is a view of a man whose name I was well familiar with, yet whose life I knew nothing about. I love the format of individual stories and remembrances as opposed to the often salacious third-party accounts with bad information, suspect facts and distanced or feigned interest in the subject matter. In a case like this, allowing the friends, family and fellow musicians tell the tale is where the realism sets in nicely. Some of the better quips come through Mr. Carr’s sister, Loretta Caravello, who shows her brother as a kid from the ‘old neighborhood’ that got the gig of a lifetime after plodding around in local bands for a few years. Her tales of Eric sitting around on his parents’ front lawn and talking with and signing for fans is both heartwarming and genuine. This was a consummate musician, my friends; he hung out with fans, never refused an autograph, sincerely loved the public and went out of his way for them on many an occasion. He was also flawed in his insecurities as a musician and even as a man, but considering the vast umbrella with which he found shade, success and comfort who could blame him? It must have been hell to face death and worry about your job as well. I think Mr. Carr knew well his prognosis and simply chose to worry more about Eric Singer (his replacement and current ‘fake KISS’ drummer) than his cancer. I find it sickeningly funny that Simmons and Stanley consulted Eric’s doctors about his condition so as to better plan for the band’s economic future. It is clear that fame never got the better of Mr. Carr, and that is what made him, in my eyes, too damn good for KISS. Where KISS has obviously lost sight of the musical aspect of the band as opposed to being a cash-cow trademark, these little distractions took a toll on Mr. Carr towards the end of his life. He was always enthusiastic about his job, but hurt, anger and subjugation all in one knotted ball quelled this desire in spots; it’s truly a shame that he never got to realize a life outside of the restraints of KISS.

I never knew Eric Carr was working on a cartoon called Rockheads and had music made for it. It was to be a children’s show about four little rockers with differing personalities (sounds vaguely familiar); the man’s true depth and instinctual creativity was criminally lost to time, but hopefully these might see some fruition one day. Some of the details about his planned cartoon are saddening simply due to the handcuffs placed on him by this supposed dream job that was nightmarish for the visions he had to suppress at the behest of his superiors. He wanted to release this so badly, but it never got off the ground. Granted, there was interest from heavyweights like Hanna-Barbera, but it simply never was able to materialize. This is a book of both successes and failures, with one not cancelling or overshadowing the other, but through it all the real Eric Carr, the only Eric Carr is always the picture of humility and graciousness.

I really enjoyed this fascinating and well-crafted book. The inside look at a man I unfortunately never met but feel as if I knew intimately by the book’s conclusion is truly wonderful in all facets and should be read by any true music fan. What you get is the total truth, warts and all, and while Eric’s passing will always be one of rock’s greater and least-acknowledged tragedies his legacy is much fuller. With the help of the likes of Bruce Kulick, Eddie Trunk, Mark Slaughter, girlfriend Carrie Stevens, Blas Elias, Bob Kulick, Charlie Benante, A.J. Pero, Jamie St. James, Bob Ezrin, Bill Aucoin, the list of admirers and loved ones goes on forever. The book also has a good lot of unreleased or rare photos from his youth up to and through his meteoric rise with KISS.  With as much love as he received during his short tenure on this plane, is it any wonder that he is universally missed? Simply put, you don’t find many musicians like Eric Carr, and you certainly don’t find many people as decent and genuine as Paul Caravello.

Clichés abound, the good do always die young.                            

BLOG ARCHIVE HERE

TO THE TOP