It was 4 March 1976. KISS were due to play a show at the Civic Center Music Hall in Oklahoma City. The show was sold out and everything was ready to go – until the local support act cancelled shortly before the show. A last minute replacement was needed.
The promoter was aware of a bluegrass band called Mountain Smoke. With desperation being the mother of invention, he decided to give them a call.
Hal Clifford was the bass player for Mountain Smoke, and the one whose phone was ringing. “The promoter called me after 6PM in the evening. He said that he had a problem and described the contract with KISS, which stated that they had to have an opening act or they wouldn’t go on. The promoter said that if we could pay, he would get us $5000. I called and got some of the guys from Mountain Smoke together, one of which was Vince Gill. Everybody raced down to the Civic Centre and got there at about 8PM.”
Vince Gill had switched from playing rock’n’roll in high school to join the bluegrass band Mountain Smoke. He remembers that gig clearly: “We went down to the Civic Center in Oklahoma City. They didn’t tell us who we were opening for. The marquee said KISS! We thought, no, that can’t be us. We must be doing the basement or something. But we were going to open for KISS! You know, our little bluegrass band. Spinal Tap couldn’t script this, you know! Didn’t anybody think this wasn’t such a great idea? Well, for a 17-year old kid, a few hundred bucks is a home run, and it doesn’t matter how you get it!”
Worlds were truly set up to collide in several ways. KISS had no idea who the opening band would be, the fans did not know what they were in for – and neither did the opening band. Gill: “KISS had their 30-foot drum risers, stacks of amplifiers to the ceiling, blood and fire and all of this stuff. We came out there with our little fiddles and our mandolins… These people flipped completely out! They hated us SO BAD! They started booing from the first note, screaming!”
Hal Clifford: “As soon as they saw us walk out onstage the tone of the audience went from subdued amazement to a louder tone of disapproval. They booed and booed and booed. We played several songs and made light of it and laughed. We said things like, ‘your enthusiasm is remarkable. You keep driving us like this and we’ll continue to play.’”
Vince Gill: “I must say it was kind of a neat feeling having that many people pissed off at you and screaming at you, that it was like a big room full of applause in a weird way. We only lasted about 3 songs. Then the beer bottles started flying, and I said ‘Well, we better get out of here.’”
Hal Clifford: “We thanked the audience again and I suggested that they be sure to get mom and dad’s car back by 10. Then we left and Vince shot them the finger.”
Vince Gill: “I turned around, pulled down my pants, flipped them off and told them to kiss my ass! The next day, there was a review in the paper. It said, “group member Vince Gill on his departure showed the crowd which part of his anatomy the crowd could KISS.” And they had that in block letters – their logo! My 93-year old Mama still has that review, haha!”
The story has a postscript. Some four years later, Gill was a member of Pure Prairie League. They ended up being signed to Casablanca Records – the same record company as KISS.
Gill noticed Paul Stanley at a party there, went up to him and introduced himself. Then he asked, “Do you by any chance remember a gig about four years ago when a bluegrass band opened for you in Oklahoma City?”
Stanley thought about this for a few seconds, got a dawning realization, and said “Oooh, yeah, that’s right. Man. That crowd was about to riot!”
“Yeah,” Gill said. “I was in that band.”
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