There is a level of cynicism about whether this truly is the end of the road for perennial rock monsters KISS. After all, this is the second time in four years that their never-ending final hurrah has wound up here in Manchester. Adding fuel to that fire is the fact that this is their second conclusive lap of victory around the world, having already done the farewell tour pizzazz 20 years ago. However, all that “Will they? Won't they?” gossip is put to one side as we stand to marvel at probably the purest and most unrefined personification of arena rock.

For many years there has been a narrative that KISS long ago chose blatant commercialism over the unadulterated beauty of unashamed rock 'n' roll. From the moment that they hit the stage, you realise that nothing can actually be further from the truth. For all the bells, whistles, pyrotechnics and greasepaint KISS still remain a shit hot rock band who are utterly in love with what they do. Every note, every stage move, and every precision-engineered set piece is designed to entertain. You can be as sceptical as you want but KISS put on a value-for-money show like no other.

Every track in the 22-song strong set is an event. There is no filler here, just humongous production number after humongous production number. Over 50 years KISS have accumulated an abundance of riches when it comes to their back catalogue and they are not afraid to bring them all to the yard this evening. In the past ‘Detroit Rock City’, ‘Shout It Out Loud’ and ‘Deuce’ have all nestled happily as encore fodder, yet here they are chucked out in the opening salvo.

The ticker-tape and circus tricks come thick and fast, but they never take away from the brilliance of KISS as a primal rock 'n' roll band. They will never be accused of being intellectual in the songwriting but they have sculptured some of the finest dumb-arsed rock 'n' roll ever created. From the get-go even the uninitiated punters who had made use of the various cheap ticket offers are roaring along to ‘Calling Dr. Love’ and ‘God of Thunder’ like they have been lifelong devotees.

Everyone bar Paul gets a solo because they're all getting on and sometimes only a cuppa and a quick sit-down will do. But they are short, pithy affairs with enough pyro and fake blood to remain steadfastly interesting. And that is the overall point. Even if you are not a fan there is something to visually gorge on at every single moment. It's a carnival of hydraulics, lights, and optical stimuli and by the time the confetti rains down for main set finale ‘Black Diamond’, you feel you are slap bang in the middle of an unstoppable Fiesta.

But there is more because this is a rock 'n' roll show and there is nothing more rock 'n' roll than a well-oiled encore. Eric does his best Peter Criss impersonation with prototype power ballad ‘Beth’ and then it into the home straight with disco-tastic ‘I was Made for Loving You’ and a final hurrah of the rock anthem to rule them all ‘Rock And Roll All Nite’. Everyone is dancing, everyone is singing and the grins on Paul and Gene's faces can be seen from space.

If this truly is the end then it signals the demise of quite simply the best and biggest rock 'n' roll party on the planet. No other band understands the connection between audience and performer like KISS. No other band puts on a show that is so hot-wired into our desire to be entertained. It's simple, it's puerile but it's also heartwarming and utterly wonderful. If this is goodbye, then we part with utter joy in our hearts.