Blondie

Live by Request (Sanctuary)
by Lex Marburger

The years have not been kind to Debbie Harry. Not that she can’t sing, or she doesn’t look hot (she does, in her own way, on both counts) but the problem is she got some training, and some experience. Jazz training, to put it nicely. She’s gotten some skills under her belt, and that’s not good for Blondie. Her ultra-hip, too-cool-for-school persona is no longer Warhol-esque, in that she created it out of a whole cloth. Now that she can back it up, it doesn’t work as well as it should. They’re also playing on a very pre-fab stage, which just implies to the viewer that it’s not really real (well, that’s sort of the point, right? But again, the joke isn’t as ironic. They’re buying into to their own act). Which it always used to be, even in the ’80s, but we used to be in on the joke, that the glamorous rockstar thing was with a wink and a nod to the fallacy of idolizing your heroes. Now it’s all too real, she is a star, the fans are idolizing their heroes, and the music suffers because of it.

Granted, if you’re a fan, you’re in luck: She sings (and the band plays) all the hits seamlessly and flawlessly, but Jesus Christ, fucking Jules Asner interrupts this concert like it’s a fuckin VH1 special (oh, wait… shit, it probably is!), and it’s just fucking awful. Fuckin awful!

Fuck this. Listen to the old albums. Avoid this like the fucking plague. Even though it’s something like a request show (people call in, they play some shit, it’s fuckin depressing), it doesn’t make you feel like you’re holding a piece of gold, it make you feel like you’re holding a textbook, and a boring one at that.
(www.blondie.com)