“The last thing he told me during that last interview was, ‘I’m probably gonna go until the wheels come off!’” I spoke to Ace Frehley a dozen times in the last two years of his life – oft-misunderstood, he was the true embodiment of rock ‘n’ roll spirit

You probably won’t believe this, but for the last week or so, I’ve had a creeping feeling that another amazing player whom I’d come to know personally was going to die.

Call it a journalist's intuition. Call it my anxious nature being egged on by the hot disaster the world has become. And sure, in this racket, which often includes interviewing elder musicians who didn’t always take great care of themselves, death goes hand-in-hand with the words.

This is fair to say. Still, I hoped I was wrong.

After John Lodge’s death on October 10, which came after Brent Hinds’ death on August 20 and Ozzy Osbourne’s on July 22, I allowed myself to subscribe to the “bad things come in threes” superstition.

But in the back of my mind, I kept thinking, ‘Ozzy wasn’t a guitar player…’ Soon, I found out that my intuition-meets-anxiety wasn’t for nought. Ace Frehley – the Spaceman – was gone.

On Thursday, October 16, I spent my afternoon interviewing Joe Perry. I’m not afraid to admit that my aforementioned anxiety had me thinking, ‘God, I hope nothing happens to Joe…’ My anxiety did not subside once I got off that call, as a sudden flurry of text, Instagram, and Facebook messages greeted me.

These messages were all some version of, ‘Dude, is Ace really gone?’ He was. I was gutted. The man who gave me reason to play guitar, worship guitar heroes, and spend a great deal of time writing about it all was gone.

Thoughts of sadness, devastation, and bewilderment swirled through my brain. This led me to grab my iPhone and open up the many recordings of a dozen-plus interviews with Ace, all of which occurred between 2023 and 2025.

I first interviewed Ace on January 12, 2023. I was working on a print issue of Guitar World, celebrating Jeff Beck, who had died two days prior. The assignment was to collect quotes from notable players about their thoughts, feelings, and memories of Jeff. Ace was on the docket.

I’d connected with Ace’s manager, John Ostrosky, and within an hour, Ace called me. We spoke for just over 15 minutes. As a lifelong Kiss fan, whose first-ever concert was Kiss, and who had seen Ace live many times, this was a dream realized. He was everything I’d imagined he’d be: hilarious, slightly unhinged, and totally memorable.

Ace and I kept in touch after that. A few texts here and there. He’d remind me that a new album was coming. Soon, another player, Steve Brown, reached out, letting me know that he was co-producing Ace’s upcoming record, 10,000 Volts. Steve said that it was as good, if not better, than Ace’s vaunted ’78 solo record. He sent me files.

In this business, we hear things like this all the time. But in this instance, because it was Ace, I was hopeful. Steve sent me rough demos of 10,000 Volts around a year before the record came out. The first track I remember hearing was Cherry Medicine. He was right. This album was different, special, even.

Ace Frehley – Cherry Medicine - (Official Music Video) - YouTube

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Fast forward to September 18, 2023. I’m driving home, and I’ve just reached a red light. I checked my iPhone to see that I had a missed call from Ace and a voicemail. The gist was that his former bandmates in Kiss were doing a lot of talking, and that he wanted to have his say. I immediately emailed my editor at Guitar World, told him the deal, got the green light, and called Ace back.

Then and there, in my 2020 Kia Forte, Ace and I looked back on his career in Kiss for around 35 minutes. After that, we became pals.

I interviewed him for Guitar World, where I dropped by his home studio to talk about 10,000 Volts. We did stories for MusicRadar, Guitar Player, Guitarist, Goldmine, ClassicRockHistory, and even did an extensive career-spanning cover story for Rock Candy Magazine.

I could tell you stories about Ace stopping interviews midstream to discuss with me the perfect egg sandwich – and where to get one. Or the time that he gave me the elevation of his home in New Jersey and explained why it attracted geese. Or, while in the midst of a story about fighting bikers in a bar, Ace took me on a journey via speakerphone into a local New Jersey school to pick up a friend's daughter who had pinkeye.

Then there was the final time we spoke, which was on August 7, 2025. To my knowledge, this was his final interview. I’m haunted by the fact that had I not instigated it by texting Ace myself and pitching it to my editors with Guitar World, we might not have heard from Ace proper one last time.

Conducting what I assume is Ace’s final interview was not on my 2025 bingo card. Ace was in great spirits. He was sharp, witty, and funny, kicking off the call as he always did, jokingly saying, “So, whatcha wanna talk about?”

We talked about travel, guitars, the legacy of Kiss’s Alive!, his openness to reconciling with Paul Stanley, and his hopes for being inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a solo artist.

The last thing he told me during that interview, which was fittingly conducted in my car, was, “I’m probably gonna go until the wheels come off!” I had no idea that around a month later, the wheels would come off.

Like the rest of the world, I heard about Ace’s “minor fall” in his studio via the Internet. I didn’t hesitate to reach out.

I texted him on September 26, “Hey Ace. Saw you had a fall. Are you okay?” Within minutes, he responded, for the last time, “All good! Needed a timeout from a minor fall on the carpet in my studio.” He followed that with his typical cavalcade of emojis, including a thumbs up, a rainbow, a thumbs up, and a star. I never heard from Ace again.

I found out from a friend that Ace had experienced a second fall soon after, the one that killed him. Like the rest of us, with his social media silent and his phone off, I feared for the worst but hoped for the best. Sadly, that intuition I mentioned earlier was correct. And my interview from August was his last (to my knowledge).

There’s no pride in either. I’m filled with so many emotions a day after finding out the worst. Ace always told me he had balance issues; it was why he never had pedals at his feet. He’d joke about it, and we laughed about it many times. Those jokes ring morbid now, as his faulty balance is what did him in.

Still, I am filled with pride that my interviews with Ace will live on. I only got to know him over the last three years, but my experience hearing him talk about life, music, and guitar will last me a lifetime. Some say he was sloppy, some say he was lazy, but those people have never heard him tell his story in person.

Those people have never witnessed – and understood – what it meant to watch the true embodiment of the rock ‘n’ roll spirit hoist his Les Paul over his shoulder, drop his snakeskin boot down on top of the stage monitor, and peel off the outro solo to Kiss’s Deuce like it was nothing.

Ace was everything you’ve imagined and more. His music, influence, and vibe will live on forever in my heart. Hopefully yours, too. They say you should never meet your heroes, and to be fair, I’ve come to learn that in some cases, that’s true. But in the case of Ace Frehley, I am forever grateful that I did.

Moreover, I am grateful that I got to tell Ace – in person – what he and his music meant to me.

Rest In Peace, Spaceman. You changed my life. See you on Planet Jendell.