KISS Releases “C’mon And Love Me” (1975 Promo Video) in Stunning 4K — A Gift to Old-School Fans
KISS’s 1975 promo for “C’mon And Love Me” stands as a snapshot of a band in full creative ascent—three minutes of distilled swagger, rhythm, and charisma. Released as the second single from Dressed to Kill, it encapsulated everything the band represented: attitude, energy, and a knack for spectacle. Though it didn’t storm the charts, it became a cornerstone of their identity. The video captured KISS at a critical juncture, transforming from a cult favorite to a cultural force, driven by their fierce ambition and unmistakable sound.
Part of the charm lies in the visual grit and confidence radiating through every frame. Filmed in the thick of their Alive! momentum, the video echoed the rawness of their stage presence. The performance wasn’t about polish—it was about projection. The camera angles, the leather, and the painted faces weren’t just costumes; they were declarations of dominance. The clip is pure kinetic energy, filmed at a time when KISS was inventing the language of visual rock marketing long before MTV made it an industry standard.
The recording of the promo coincided with the band’s photo session with Fin Costello in Detroit, where KISS’s mythos as larger-than-life rock superheroes was solidified. Between shoots for the Alive! artwork and promotional stills, they captured this film performance, cementing the city’s bond with the band. Detroit’s grit, industrial pulse, and loyal fanbase perfectly matched the band’s raw aesthetic. The “C’mon And Love Me” clip felt like a thank-you letter to the city that first treated them as rock royalty.
Musically, “C’mon And Love Me” is a masterclass in compact songwriting. Written by Paul Stanley, it merges tongue-in-cheek bravado with pop precision. The song unfolds like a flirtation set to overdriven guitars—fast, flirtatious, and infectiously confident. Its lyrics, both playful and provocative, mirrored KISS’s onstage personas: bold, daring, and unashamedly loud. The video magnified that spirit. Every flick of the guitar, every snap of Peter Criss’s snare, and every glance from Paul or Gene was pure theater, designed to make rock feel larger than life.
Ace Frehley, the band’s lead guitarist and resident enigma, shines brightest here. His performance in this promo embodies his genius—effortless precision and understated cool. Frehley’s body language is pure confidence: relaxed, smirking, and completely in control. His guitar tone slices through the mix like a lightning bolt, giving the song its bite. Watching him now, knowing that he recently passed away at age 74, adds emotional weight to every frame. His laid-back grin and effortless style remind fans why Ace wasn’t just KISS’s lead guitarist—he was its pulse, its unpredictability, its soul.
The news of Ace Frehley’s passing struck fans like a shockwave through the rock world. For millions, Ace wasn’t just a musician; he was the personification of everything KISS stood for: rebellion, humor, and individuality. Seeing him in this 1975 promo now feels like opening a time capsule. His playing radiates youth and freedom—an immortal moment that outlived him. The Space Ace may have left this world, but his fire remains forever etched in performances like this one.
When the video begins, it’s easy to forget you’re watching something staged. The band’s intensity feels live, spontaneous, and hungry. Gene Simmons stalks the camera like a predator, Paul Stanley commands attention with every flick of his mic stand, Peter Criss drives the rhythm with street-smart finesse, and Ace threads melody through the chaos. The synergy between them is electric, a visual reminder of why KISS became unstoppable. The black-and-silver costumes gleam under the hot lights, each member a moving sculpture of rock mythology.
“C’mon And Love Me” wasn’t just a single—it was a blueprint for their empire. KISS understood early that image could amplify sound. This video took that philosophy and projected it into living color. Before MTV, before music videos were standard marketing tools, KISS treated every appearance as a cinematic event. That foresight made them not just a band, but a brand. When you see this promo, you’re not just watching four musicians—you’re witnessing a movement taking shape.
The original film’s restoration in recent years has given fans a sharper, more intimate glimpse into the past. The cleaned-up version brings out the fine details—the gleam of chrome guitars, the heat of stage lights, the sweat, and smudges beneath the makeup. It’s proof of how analog imperfections can feel more alive than digital perfection. The grain adds character; it’s the texture of history captured on film. That timeless visual energy keeps the video relevant even half a century later.
What makes this promo unforgettable is how it captures contradiction. It’s both raw and choreographed, spontaneous and calculated. The band looks like they’re playing for their lives, yet every movement is perfectly synced. The tension between control and chaos is the essence of KISS. Even without pyrotechnics or flames, the band radiates danger. Every second pulses with attitude, the kind that made teenagers in 1975 decide that this was the future of rock.
The Detroit setting gave the clip an edge few other promos could match. The city’s raw energy mirrored KISS’s own. It wasn’t filmed in Hollywood gloss but in the industrial heart of America—a place that understood noise, grit, and defiance. You can almost feel the vibration of factory floors and the echo of engines in every guitar riff. That grounding made KISS relatable even in their alien costumes; they were gods, but gods built from the same steel as their fans.
The song’s reception at the time didn’t reflect its eventual influence. Though it wasn’t a chart hit, “C’mon And Love Me” became a concert staple, a fan favorite that outlived its commercial moment. It was part of the setlist for decades, loved not because of numbers, but because of how it made people feel. The promo video, rediscovered and restored, is now a celebration of that emotional connection. Each rewatch reminds fans that fame fades, but energy endures.
Ace Frehley’s contribution to this piece of rock history can’t be overstated. In later interviews, he’d often shrug off his impact with self-deprecating humor, but here you see his essence—focused, expressive, and effortless. The timing of his passing adds a bittersweet layer. What was once a routine promotional shoot now plays like a memorial. Every solo feels like a message from the past, reminding us of the joy of imperfection and the humanity behind the mask.
Today, the “C’mon And Love Me” promo stands as a time capsule of ambition. It’s not just a video; it’s proof of how far sheer willpower and imagination can carry four New York kids in makeup. KISS didn’t just sell songs—they sold an idea: that rock could be myth, theater, and rebellion rolled into one. Watching this clip now, with the hindsight of Ace’s legacy and the band’s half-century of influence, feels like watching the birth of modern rock performance itself.
Nearly fifty years later, the magic still holds. The swagger, the sound, the chemistry—it’s all there, unfiltered and eternal. In the glow of stage lights, four faces painted in black and white changed the color of music history. And somewhere in that eternal frame, Ace Frehley is still grinning—defiant, alive, and forever the true spirit of KISS.
