It’s not that I really expect Harry and Co. to be sounding as spectacularly cool, spunky and vital as they did in ’78 when little bombs of unearthly delight went off in my trousers on seeing the band perform ‘Denis’ on ‘Top Of The Pops’, just as I don’t expect the Beatles to be getting back together. You see, some things have their time and no amount of yearning is ever going to bring that time back. The success of any band is an involuntary knee-jerk reaction brought about by a series of circumstances beyond our control. Being in the right place at the right time with the right kind of look with the right kind of hair-gel. That’s about as complex as it gets.
So what we’re really talking about is simplicity: that unpretentious germ of an idea decked out in something as casual as leather or denim and screaming at the top of it’s voice to be loved. This was the success of ‘Dreaming’, ‘Atomic’, ‘Hanging On The Telephone’, ‘Union City Blue’ and ‘Sunday Girl’ – just great little tunes with a modicum of attitude, a tight little ass and desperate to be loved. And the only thing that divides these songs with any of the tracks on ‘Curse Of Blondie’ is simplicity. Not that Blondie were ever afraid of playing with genres or being clever – they always did, it’s just that the longer they continued to do it, the less they sounded like a band – and it was only when they sounded like a band that they were really ever capable of kicking-ass.
Aside from the rather unfortunate rap nonsense of ‘Shakedown’ and the camp-disco of ‘Good Boys’ tracks like ‘Undone’ provide the kind of soft-focus, swooning guitar heaven that ‘Dreaming’ and ‘I’m Always Touched’ used to provide – muscular, electric and glazed with purest honey. The cooky dub-pop of ‘Background Melody’ also pleases, bringing together as it does elements of reggae, nursery-rhyme and 1920s style crooning in a tidy little sherbet tube of humour. ‘Magic’ is another worthy contribution – and again it showcases the transgeneric Harry at her most imaginative and sweet and provides the perfect lady-in-waiting to the jazzy and beautiful ‘Songs Of Love’.
The trouble with the ‘Curse Of Blondie’ is the curse of Blondie, quite frankly: never content to stay in one place too long and never content to keep it simple. But strip away the outrageous gloss and sheen of the production and the sheer waste of session playing on this album and you’ll get a glimpse of cooler times.
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