I went to the Blondie concert last Friday night and wasastounded by the young-spirited Deborah Harry.
Sure, Deb has put on a few pounds and wrinkles since her days asa young 1970s debutante, but her vocals remain as flawless inperson as they are on any one of the band’s timeless albums.
Although the band no longer reflects the image of coked-outinner-city youth, Blondie still holds with it the ambiance of punkrock at its finest: its beginning.
Although the show was not chock-full of headbanging moshers, theessence of a more vital era of punk rock made the experienceworthwhile.
Standing in the Crystal Ballroom, I noticed something whilegazing out at the crowd: Blondie has the most diverse group of fansI have ever seen. The band’s following consisted of everything fromHispanic butt-rockers with flowing mullets to forty-something womenreminiscing over their short-lived reign as prom queen in1978.
It is amazing that a 58 year-old woman can stand on stage fortwo hours, singing her heart out and shaking her ta-tas like ayoung woman in her early twenties.
The concert, all in all, was not awe-inspiring. However, DeborahHarry’s transition from the young, talented queen of punk rock tothe older and indescribably impressive woman she has become isremarkable.
But if I were you, I would not buy the new Blondie CD, The Curseof Blondie, because it does not do the band justice. Just go buyone of the trillion versions of Blondie’s greatest hits and besatisfied.