Blondie, Parallel Lives Read online

  Although the two groups had often shared bills and audiences in New York, in Britain there was an evident division between the demographics each band was attracting, “It’s a whole different thing in England,” Clem observed. “The kids consider us a dance band or a pop band, which is what we always try to be. They consider Television a Grateful Dead type of thing. Nothing against them or anything, but the people that got into Television were wearing plaid shirts, long hair and beards, and smoking joints, rocking back and forth in their seats. The people that came to see us were kids with skinny ties rushing up to the front, trying to jump up on stage. It was a weird mixture.”

  “The New York punk scene was very diverse compared to the English scene. The British punk scene was a lot narrower,” Chris later remarked. “The Clash and The Pistols and 999 and Sham 69 and all these bands were a lot closer to each other than Talking Heads and Television and us.”

  “We were under the impression that it was going to be equal billing, but it wasn’t,” added Burke. “It was bad because the audience was really mixed; half of Television’s audience didn’t want to know about us and half of our audience didn’t want to see them. It split down the middle.”

  In Glasgow Blondie opened with ‘Kung Fu Girls’, with Debbie doing her Bruce Lee high-kick routine. The band piled through first-album songs and newer numbers earmarked for the next, including ‘(I’m Always Touched By Your) Presence, Dear’. A few bars into ‘X Offender’ Debbie stopped the song, bellowing “Wait a minute!”, then, “Aww fuck!” They started again, then Chris flung his instrument into the drum kit as they stalked off, obviously unhappy.

  Sound problems would become a persistent bone of contention. When they struck the band could get moody, fighting on stage or storming off. That night, as with others on the tour, the malfunctioning equipment could be blamed on ‘support band syndrome’, which often leaves groups without a soundcheck and with sound engineers who were more concerned with reading the paper than helping a support act who are not paying their wages.

  The tour continued around the country before reaching London’s Hammersmith Odeon. By this time Blondie had tightened up their show considerably; Debbie dressed to kill in a black leotard ensemble and gave a performance that went for the throat. The quintet also extended their tradition of well-chosen encores by performing Ronnie And The Daytonas’ ‘Little GTO’, Martha And The Vandellas’ ‘Heart Wave’ and The New York Dolls’ ‘Jet Boy’.

  “It was very different in terms of audiences. In America audiences were still very bohemian and a little bit coffee shop, but in the UK it was much more physical,” declared Chris. “The English are really traditional rockers, really wild,” asserted Debbie. “They get up and go crazy. A constant shouting and leaping and swaying. The audiences [in the US] are generally tamer. We always get encores in the States. That’s not the problem. It’s the general attitude, the general response. Appreciation is expressed differently here.”

  “I was beginning to find English kids somewhat more literate and sophisticated than Americans,” Deborah stated. “They clock everything and were catching all the nuances in the phrasing of the music and words I was singing. They appreciated our act right away, making Britain Blondie’s second home. We always had the mod thing as a reference point, and it was always something we followed and took inspiration from. That’s probably one of the reasons why and how we took off in the UK, as it was an aesthetic that was identifiable and British people could understand.”

  Aside from the cultural differences, Blondie also had to adapt to the partisan UK music press. Understandably, the bulk of the ink went to headliners Television. What irked Blondie was the tendency to lionise Verlaine’s postprogressive noodling while dismissing their material as lightweight fluff. The prevalent attitude among the ‘serious’ journalists seemed to be that Blondie were OK for a laugh but Television were furthering the advancement of rock; their attitude was mired in the previous generation’s values, failing to grasp the incoming wave.

  The media’s notion that Blondie’s association with ‘punk rock’ should have some kind of serious message at its core worked against the group’s apolitical nature. “If we’re saying anything, we’re saying have fun,” declared Valentine.

  “We’re a little disappointed that the press is misinterpreting us … They did it to us in the States and it took a while to catch on,” said Debbie. “The thing is we’ve been getting really good responses,” added Chris. “If we were getting bottles thrown at us and stuff it would be a different story, they’d be right, but we’ve got an encore every single show.”

  “Yeah, we get encores every single show and the press writes us up and puts us down. It’s really unbelievable,” continued Deborah. “The audiences were really much more wild, slamming and pogoing and all that stuff – much more physical … they have a tribal behaviour that doesn’t really exist in this country. Because the ethnology [in the US] is so mixed, people feel sort of isolated. The English culture doesn’t punish these people for being eccentric, whereas over here it’s a little bit different.”

  The media coverage also placed the emphasis of publicity squarely on Deborah’s shoulders. “The danger is that Debbie could become over-exploited and that could hurt the group,” warned Jimmy. “We could turn into a European joke band if we’re not careful, and one thing we don’t want is to become a second-rate Abba.”

  “The difference in the media’s attitude to a boy or a girl on stage infuriates me,” said Debbie. “If a band full of men is on stage and an audience of girls are screaming at them then everything is as it should be … but if it’s a girl on stage, then suddenly everything is cheap. Reaction to me has to be cheap because I’m a girl and they’re not used to that. If it was The Bay City Rollers up there then everything would be cool.”

  If there was an ideology of sexual equality emanating from some sections of the punk movement, then much of the press and the ubiquitous ‘show us yer tits’ element of the audience failed to grasp it. “At first there was considerable indifference to us, and then a considerable amount of resistance – resistance and fear – to me as a female singer,” explained Debbie. “To me, the idea of presenting a strong female singer had finally found its time – that it was inevitable. I felt a lot of female singers were always being victimised or used, and that a lot of their lyrics reflected that. And I remember thinking how much I liked the blues of Janis Joplin or Billie Holiday, but how I really did not want to portray that sort of woman – the sort who was always going to get her ass kicked by love or whatever.”

  In addition to this kind of embedded sexism, Private Stock was an enthusiastic subscriber to the fact that sex sells. If the media chose to focus on Blondie’s photogenic vocalist, the label was hardly about to object. “After the press picked us up, the record company didn’t care who played bass. Debbie was what they wanted,” opined Gary. “We can’t go to the press and say, ‘Hey, you have to give us a printed picture of the whole band, not just Debbie.’ They’d say, ‘Oh, we won’t use your picture at all.’”

  It can be argued that, for a new band hoping to make an impact in a foreign country, any kind of press is good press. Indeed, Jimmy took a pragmatic view of the media focus on Deborah. “If The Rolling Stones were called ‘The Big Lips’ after Mick Jagger, it’d still be the same unit of energy. It’s just like identifying with the singer and she’s the focal point. It’s worth the occasional slagging from the press that the band are just her backing musicians, which we know personally is not true. After a while the press will realise there’s something else here.”

  More positively, Debbie’s strong feminine archetype had what would be described today as an ‘empowering’ effect on Blondie’s female fans. “So many girls come up to me and say, ‘Great, keep going, do it.’ … I’m not making enemies of girls, I’m making fans of girls.”

  As she would later reflect, however, any band can easily become an arena for competitive egos and Deborah became keenly aware of the
divisive effect any over-emphasis on her could have. “There were times when I thought it was terrifically unfair to the guys. We tried to make things more equal, like dividing up interviews. But I knew sex was part of the mechanics of promotion. And it was working. I always wondered if anybody was actually listening to what we were doing musically.”

  The key to managing the media focus on Debbie would be to ensure that, so far as was possible, if sex was going to sell Blondie then it would be on Blondie’s terms. “I wasn’t just the product of a producer. I was my own product,” she later asserted. “I was working very hard to be a good performer, a good singer and to write interesting things. To have that overshadowed by one’s looks can be a little bit damaging. But I never paid much attention to criticism unless it was constructive and I could put it to good use. Why would I want to listen to someone else’s opinion when I knew what I wanted to do?”

  The last night of the UK tour took place at Bristol’s Colston Hall on May 31. There was a minibus running from the office of punk fanzine Sniffin’ Glue. Among those hitching a ride were the Glue’s Mark Perry and Danny Baker, plus (representing Zigzag) a boggle-eyed Kris Needs:

  I’d been introduced to Chris and Debbie by Zigzag founder Pete Frame, who’d taken me to meet them at their cheap Kensington Hotel after the Hammersmith Odeon gig. The couple had retired to bed but surprisingly let us in, Debbie protecting her modesty with a sheet while Chris sat reading a Marvel comic. Instantly friendly, they had invited me to the Bristol gig in three days’ time.

  At Colston Hall, Blondie seemed to be winning over the seated punks and hippies alike, with their stellar cover of The Doors’ ‘Moonlight Drive’. Debbie is pretty in pink, almost preppie-style with skinny tie and pony-tail, bouncing around and high-kicking into first-album songs like the rabble-rousing ‘Kung Fu Girls’, ‘Shark In Jet’s Clothing’, ‘Rip Her To Shreds’ and their new Iggy tribute, ‘Detroit 442’. It’s enough to secure an encore, which Gary Valentine struggles to make after taking a wrong turn without his glasses and plunging several feet off the stage. To his embarrassment he lands right in front of the beer-and-speed-fuelled London press contingent. He gets a cheer for regaining his composure and playing through the encore of ‘Little GTO’. After Blondie’s sun zoom spark, self-appointed headliners Television seem sedately self-indulgent.

  The first meeting with Blondie as a group went well enough to say that we hit it off. Being the last night of the tour, the mood is celebratory and silly, especially the boys, Clem Burke wearing the complimentary food, attaching slices of bread to his leather jacket as Chris puns, “It’s inbredible!” The Blondie boys are friendly enough and boisterous in that US-band-on-the-road manner. Jimmy and Clem spar with wisecracks, while Gary Valentine seems more serious, although no less approachable. Although all participants contribute essentially to the sound, it’s Debbie’s striking high profile and Chris’s ingenious strategies which are already attracting all the attention. At this vital career stage, where other groups would spotlight their best assets, Blondie do the opposite, almost downplaying the most striking star to appear since Ziggy Stardust in order to maintain internal harmony. I can sense the underlying concern and paranoia when I’m repeatedly asked if we’re using a photograph of the whole band as main image with the Zigzag piece. Rumblings will occur whenever Debbie gets a solo cover shot throughout the next five years.

  Here’s Debbie in the flesh. On first impressions, it’s easy to be disarmed by her amazing face and unearthly gaze. In conversation, her voice can take on a mellifluous sing-song quality running a gamut of razor-sharp street tones, New Jersey holler or silken-toned honey angel, tempered with a playful, slightly warped sense of humour. I later find out she’s naturally quite shy and reserved until she gets to know someone. Chris is her pillar and spiritual counterpart who loves to expound with dry wit on anything from conspiracy theories to comic books. Debbie and Chris obviously understand classic pop, but their boundless thirst for the new is also evident.

  Before taking the stage, Debbie talked about the Blondie name: “We decided to use the name Blondie and then keep it because it had received some publicity. It’s an easy name to remember and sort of descriptive. It just happened to work out to be a good name but most of the time people imply it’s too feminine and pretty. Then I get tagged with it, but it’s really a five-piece thing.

  “I’ve been stuck with blonde hair for three years but I’m getting tired of it. You get tired of bleaching your hair out. I’ve always had different coloured hair, but to try to stop it now …”

  Realising this might be somewhat untimely, Debbie steels herself back to the mission in hand and issues a prophetic warning before bounding onstage. “We’re coming back! We’ll be back London! We’re flying over with bombs!”

  In those times of punky makeovers in the UK, old-fashioned beauty was mocked and eschewed in favour of anti-glamour shock tactics by the likes of Siouxsie, Poly Styrene, Gaye Advert and The Slits. Blondie initially had a difficult task, often dismissed as lightweight music fronted by the kind of bedroom wall pin-up that punk was supposed to eradicate. The previous year, Debbie had declared, “I want to do something to make people change the way they think and act towards girls.” Blondie’s visit showed they were all still fighting for the cause. Ultimately, she would be the most subversive of all: a sex symbol with brains from New York’s underground on Top Of The Pops.

  Despite her pre-gig enthusiasm in Bristol, Debbie later reflected on the experience of being treated badly by Television and misrepresented by the UK press. “We were really low on the totem pole. Television were already thought of as being real substantial musicians, and they really were technically better than us. We had to learn on the job. They really marketed us as a pop band and the guys started wearing the skinny ties and stuff. I was sort of nervous about it all. I always wished I had somebody to talk to, a mentor, who could explain what was going on. Someone just to say, ‘Oh, you’ll get used to it.’ We didn’t understand the business at all. Chris wasn’t a businessman. Sometimes he’d sort of say, ‘Oh, shut the fuck up.’ I felt like I was tied to the bow of ship. Thrust out. I felt like a projectile or something.”

  The most positive element of the tour by far was the reaction of those who came specifically to see Blondie. “We went out, and the audience reaction was great for us. And that was the first indication that maybe somebody else gets this,” remembered Jimmy. “It’s the ultimate dream to tour in the UK,” beamed Clem. “It pretty much lived up to my expectations. We’re looking forward to going back. This time we’ll headline and get someone appropriate to support us.”

  After a short run of European dates supporting Television in early June, Blondie returned to New York and almost immediately got down to the job of recording a second album. Once again, the disc would be recorded at Plaza Sound with Richard Gottehrer producing, although both Craig Leon and Marty Thau had by now moved on. “Though I kept in touch with Blondie I moved out of New York and the New York scene for all intents and purposes,” explains Craig. “I was on my own and no longer working with Richard Gottehrer even though we still had a great relationship, which continues to this day.”

  “I got an offer to form my own label, which was always my hope and dream,” says Marty. “So there I had someone saying, ‘Yeah, we’ll finance you,’ so I sold my interest in Blondie to Richard and formed Red Star Records, went from there and signed Suicide and The Real Kids, and eventually put out music by The Fleshtones, Richard Hell, Martin Rev and even some other music I had by the Dolls.

  “We were all kind of naïve in a sense, back then. I was very idealistic. I never believed how cut-throat it could be. I found out from some of the people who I regarded so tremendously. I didn’t expect Blondie to be as big as they became, but I did expect them to become popular in varying degrees. It really was a pleasant surprise to see them go where they went to. They must have sold about 60 million records. They became probably the world’s biggest-selling popular new-wa
ve recording artists of that era. A lot of it had to do with Chris; Chris was very visionary. He really stuck with it and got the ideas together correctly.”

  The classic second album problems – insufficient written material, differing creative agendas and a greater sense of the commercial pressures – ensured that the making of Plastic Letters was a far more fraught experience than recording Blondie. “Plastic Letters was a very dark album,” intoned Jimmy. “Plaza Sound was a dark studio … Radio City was closing.”

  More than anything, Blondie needed a hit – or, if not, some kind of signature tune to propel the band into the public consciousness. Perhaps surprisingly, it came along with relative ease. Debbie suggested reworking Randy And The Rainbows’ 1963 hit ‘Denise’ from a female perspective. “We did ‘Denis’ because we had it on a K-Tel compilation – 44 Golden Oldies or something – and we thought it was a great song,” she explained. “I thought if we played a song that had been popular, the DJs would finally listen to us. It turned out to be a monster in England and France. I didn’t know this beforehand but St. Denis is the patron saint of France. Psychic choice.”

  Deborah’s prescience extended to improvising a verse in slightly shaky French – a decision that not only rendered a good cover version transcendent, but also survived later attempts to correct her Gallic grammar. “The arrangement and the sound were more like a band playing in the echo-driven ‘wall of sound’ style by The Crystals and Ronettes,” Gottehrer observed. “What made it totally unique, though, was that in the middle she burst into French. Her phrasing and accent aside, it felt great and sounded amazing. Another example of the band’s innovative qualities.”

  Aside from ‘Denis’, the remaining dozen cuts selected for inclusion on Plastic Letters were all original compositions. The credits for these songs were spread around the four songwriting members of the group, the bulk shared between Jimmy and Chris. “On that second record it was hard for me to grasp the point that they were trying to make,” remembered Gottehrer. “There were conflicts in general about just which songs to do, almost like, ‘We gotta do a few of Jimmy’s songs, a few of our songs.’”