The rock world came to a standstill on October 20th, 2024, at St.Peter’s Episcopal Church in Morristown, New Jersey.

The legendary guitarist Ace Frehley, known as the iconic “Spaceman” of Kiss, was laid to rest at 74 years old.

But it wasn’t the usual eulogies or tearful farewells that sent shockwaves through fans and fellow musicians alike—it was Gene Simmons, the band’s notorious frontman, who stunned everyone with a raw, unexpected confession and the unveiling of a secret tape that rewrote the story of their tumultuous relationship.

Ace Frehley’s final months were marked by an intense dedication to his craft.

Despite his age and health challenges, he pushed himself relentlessly in the studio, embodying the mantra, “If I’m not sweating, I’m not working.” But the grueling sessions took a toll.

During a late-night recording at Morristown Studios, Ace suffered a fall near an amplifier, resulting in a head injury that concealed a brain hemorrhage.

Despite medical efforts, his condition deteriorated rapidly, and in the early hours of October 16th, 2024, the music world lost one of its most unique talents.

In the days following Ace’s passing, tributes flooded social media.

Paul Stanley, Kiss’s other founding member, called Ace “our soul,” while drummer Peter Criss remembered him as “the electric heart of Kiss.

” Yet, conspicuously absent from public commentary was Gene Simmons, whose silence only fueled speculation.

Known for his fierce battles with Ace over band dynamics and business, Gene’s absence was deafening.

The tension between Ace and Gene was legendary—marked by clashes over the band’s pace, discipline, and creative direction.

Fans and insiders alike expected some form of public acknowledgment from Gene, but none came—until the funeral.

When Gene Simmons finally stepped up to the lectern, the atmosphere thickened with anticipation.

But what he delivered was far from the typical rock star eulogy.

Lowering his eyes, his voice trembling slightly, Gene admitted, “I never told him this, because I didn’t know how.” What followed was a confession that stunned everyone present.

Gene revealed a truth that had never been aired before: the long-standing narrative that Ace was the problem in the band—that he couldn’t keep up—was a lie.

“The truth is, I was jealous,” Gene said, his admission hanging heavy in the air.

The room gasped collectively, even Paul Stanley appeared visibly taken aback.

For the first time, the tough-as-nails Kiss frontman showed vulnerability and honesty.

The moment that truly defined the funeral was when Gene pulled out a small cassette tape from his pocket—a recording made by Ace in 1981, handed to Gene the day Ace left Kiss.

This tape had never been played publicly before.

It was not a hit song, nor a display of guitar virtuosity, but a simple, acoustic ballad recorded on analog equipment, stripped of any production gloss.

Gene explained that Ace wanted the tape to be played only when “the story was over.

” On that day, the time had finally come.

As the cassette player crackled to life beside the casket, Ace’s soft, almost whispered voice filled the room.

The song was a private message, a goodbye not to fans, but to the one person who truly understood him beyond the stage lights and smoke machines.

No flashy solos, no pyrotechnics—just raw, heartfelt honesty.

When the song ended, Gene wiped away tears, a rare sight for the man who had often been seen as the unflappable face of Kiss.

“I spent years building a brand, he built a soul,” Gene said quietly before stepping down, leaving the room in stunned silence.

Ace Frehley was more than just a guitarist; he was the soul that breathed life into Kiss’s music.

His signature sound—honest, simple, and unpretentious—became a blueprint for generations of rock musicians.

Unlike many who piled layers of effects and production, Ace preferred a “room feel,” capturing the essence of a live performance in every note.

Musicians from Metallica to Foo Fighters paid tribute, while guitar legend Tom Morello credited Ace’s unpolished style as a defining influence on his own career.

Lady Gaga even spoke of the “Spaceman” as a symbol of authenticity and individuality, encouraging artists to embrace their true selves rather than hide behind trends.

Following the funeral, Ace’s family began the painstaking process of cataloging his vast archive—handwritten notes, unreleased tracks, vintage equipment, and personal recordings.

The rights to his creative legacy now rest with his daughter, Monique Frehley, who has vowed to preserve the essence of Ace’s music with the same respect and simplicity that defined his career.

No flashy posthumous releases are planned; instead, the family intends to maintain the integrity of Ace’s work, releasing only what feels true to his spirit when the time is right.

Gene’s rare display of emotion and honesty at the funeral marked a turning point in how the rock world views Kiss’s internal dynamics.

His confession was not just an apology but a tribute to a man who had been both his fiercest rival and closest collaborator.

“Kiss without Ace is just makeup,” Gene declared, a statement that resonated deeply with fans and critics alike.

The band’s image may have endured countless transformations, but the soul Ace Frehley gave to the music was irreplaceable.

Ace Frehley’s farewell was more than a funeral—it was a revelation.

The secret tape, Gene Simmons’ confession, and the heartfelt tributes painted a portrait of a man who defied convention, who played not for fame or fortune, but because every note was a lifeline.

As the rock community continues to mourn, Ace’s legacy stands tall—a reminder that true artistry is about courage, honesty, and being unapologetically yourself.

The “Spaceman” may have left the stage, but his music, and the truths revealed on that solemn day, will echo through rock history forever.