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At this point, nobody really expects Blondie to upset any new paradigms. In the group’s late ’70s and early ’80s heyday, the Debbie Harry-led outfit set a high standard for an omnivorous New Wave chic, lent the NYC underground an irresistible backbeat and helped, um, legitimize rap-rock hybrids back when future members of Korn and Limp Bizkit were still in short pants. (Also, Harry was so alluring in Videodrome. Did you see that? Watch it late at night.)
This sort of revolutionary achievement — or the fact that most people know “Heart of Glass,” whichever — earns Blondie a pass when it comes to things like “returns to form” and “envelope pushing” and “cutting a new track with Feist.” Fuck all that.
Like pretty much everybody, Blondie need liquid cash, like, now, and since touring keeps the coffers full, that’s what they’re doing. Go ahead, laugh now. When you’re shelling out dough to catch Kings of Leon or Coldplay live in 2030 when neither group’s had a hit in 15 years, get back to me.
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