by Dick Porter
After a cameo return to gigging when she provided backing vocals for Lou Reed at a Madison Square Garden AIDS benefit show in December 1987, and an equally peripheral appearance in the teen comedy Satisfaction (1988), Debbie bagged the plum role of Velma Von Tussle in cult director John Waters’ camp comedy Hairspray. Her association with the Baltimore director dated back to 1981, when she and Chris had written the title song to his earlier comedy Polyester.
Cast in the role of pushy matron, Debbie had once again selected a part that defied her established image. “She really wanted to do Hairspray, regardless of the fact that it may not have been the perfect next step or the exact order that she would have done things to benefit her music career,” recalled Waters. “Anytime you confuse people by doing more than one thing, it sometimes works against you.”
This time around, however, Deborah’s adventurous approach paid dividends. Aside from demonstrating her talent for comedy, her portrayal served to cement her status as a gay icon among that portion of the demographic who routinely lapped up Waters’ highly camp (and often scatological) comedies.
“I think gay men have always liked her maybe because it was easy to get dressed like her, even though no one could ever really look like her,” remarked the director. “Hundreds of people stole her look anyway – every rock star did. But I still don’t think about her as a gay icon, she’s just an icon.”
Debbie was equally complimentary about working with Waters. “John had a fevered approach to directing. He’s very dedicated. He knows exactly what he wants. I’m not saying that it’s mania, but he really does want a sort of madness, an almost clichéd kind of performance. He wants a very studied, cartoonish character portrayal. That really works with his scenarios. It just really works!”
The role of Velma Von Tussle also pitched Deborah alongside Sonny Bono, who had long retired from the music business to carve out a political career. “The best thing about Sonny was that he had a short fuse,” she recounted. “He was a pretty nice guy but everywhere we went, people would come up and go, ‘Hey, Sonny, where’s Cher?’ [The couple had divorced in 1975.] And he’d go so frosty all his limbs would seize up in anger and he’d go, ‘If I hear that one more time …’ It was like being haunted, poor guy … If that happened to me, I’d just tear my ears off.”
Released in February 1988, Hairspray has proven enduringly popular – grossing around $8million on its initial release, it was subsequently adapted for a 2002 Broadway musical, with a big-budget remake hitting cinema screens five years later.
Despite Deborah’s return to recording and the success of her performance in Hairspray, she and Chris had begun to drift apart. “Everything was sliding downhill, we were running out of money and stuff like that,” he’d recall. “We had a really nice place uptown and we had to get a crummier place further downtown. We were both on methadone, which she went off pretty quickly and I stayed on because my condition was stress-related. Sexuality went down and we just went out of synch, I think.”
“It was just a split, and it happened over a long period,” explained Debbie. “I couldn’t say how it started, or how it ended. It was a very intense relationship, a collaboration, a love affair, a business affair. I don’t know if a relationship like that can go on for very long, really, because it was so very intense.”
Given everything that they had been through as a couple, there was a definite poignancy to Chris and Debbie’s separation. They had endured the poverty of their early years on the Bowery; the rollercoaster ride that was Blondie; the drug problems and the battle against Chris’ illness. Given that many marriages fail to last the 15 years that Chris and Debbie spent together, it is hardly surprising that their bond endures to this day.
Although a comfort-eating Debbie, only recently over her junk addiction, would confess that she “was so messed up, full of ice cream … having a nervous breakdown of some sort”, and Chris observed how her fast withdrawal from methadone “made her really nuts”, there was no single quantifiable reason as to why they separated.
When it came, the decision to part was Debbie’s, who moved out of their shared home to a nearby apartment. Despite this, the break-up was amicable and both parties continued to care for one another deeply. As for those seeking an explanation as to why two such evidently compatible individuals would choose to separate, Chris simply says, “The relationship just sort of ran its course.”
Chapter Fourteen
Unfinished Business
“I think that you can adapt to anything, and if you aren’t successful and you don’t get big popularity, you can find happiness doing other things.”
Debbie Harry
Although Chris and Debbie were no longer an item, it had little impact upon their ability to collaborate creatively. Within a year of their gradual late 1987/early 1988 separation, the duo began work on Deborah’s third solo album, Def, Dumb And Blonde – co-writing more than half of the disc’s 11 tracks. In many ways emblematic of its era, the LP bears many typically late-eighties production elements: processed drums, guitar and keyboards, clipped rhythms and multi-tracked backing vocals are layered to create a high-sheen sound. It was the work of many hands, with Debbie and Chris joined behind the desk by a whole committee of producers including Mike Chapman, electro pioneer Arthur Baker, Thompson Twin Tom Bailey, and Toni Colandreo – who’d previously contributed to ‘Feel The Spin’ and Rockbird.
In common with Debbie’s last album, while Def, Dumb And Blonde encompasses a fairly wide range of styles there is nothing that could be described as radical. As with Rockbird, the disc represented another attempt to relaunch her career as a solo artist by applying her vocals to material that, in the main, had elements in common with the kind of songs making an impact on the charts. “We felt this record has to be a reintroduction for us to our fans and to our record buyers,” she explained. “We wanted to approach it like this. We did this for a very specific reason.”
Unsurprisingly, any diversity of style evident on the album tended to be Chris’ work. “His style of songs is very much his own,” said Deborah. “We cover a lot of ground. We have a couple of really hardcore rock songs. And we have a samba. Then there’s this rap/dance song that’s really cool called ‘Get Your Way’. Then another sort of really pretty, elegant song called ‘He Is So’. Then there is this smoky kind of Dr John song called ‘Lovelight’, and Ian [Astbury] from The Cult singing on that. Then ‘Liar Liar’, which Jonathan Demme got for his picture, Married To The Mob, which has Gary Valentine on it.”
Two of the songs written by Chris and Debbie reference Blondie’s heritage in different ways: ‘Maybe For Sure’ combines the duo’s girl-group influences with the kind of expansive sound that infused ‘Union City Blue’, while the retrospective sidewalk poetry of episodic closer ‘End Of The Run’ can be read as Debbie’s elegy for the New York that spawned Blondie. “I think that is really a very beautiful piece of music,” she declared. “This is a song about nostalgia and also about how some things become more important the further away they get, how it feels to be part of something unique and special. It’s sad when those great personal moments pass away, but it’s also great to be part of them while they’re happening.”
Aside from a sweetly seductive cover of Brazilian jazz vocalist and percussionist Naná Vasconcelos’ ‘Calmarie’, the only track on Def, Dumb And Blonde not bearing a Harry or Stein writing credit is ‘I Want That Man’, written for Debbie by Tom Bailey and his Thompson Twins partner Alannah Currie. “The interesting thing lyrically, for Alannah, was that she was writing for a woman,” observed Deborah. “She’s usually writing lyrics that Tom can sing. This time out she was able to make a very direct statement from a female point of view. It was one of three songs they submitted for the album, and it ended up as the first single.”
Catchy and appropriately assertive, ‘I Want That Man’ provided Debbie with a moderate hit, making number 13 in the UK and narrowly missing the top of Billboard‘s modern rock chart. The single wa
s promoted by a video directed by Mary Lambert, previously responsible for propelling Madonna hits such as ‘Like A Prayer’ onto the small screen. “It’s a little story about me as a vampire waking up from the crypt by the sound of the music,” explained Debbie. “Like the Anne Rice books. The music sort of wakes me up. And then I want all these things. I want that man and I want the pink shoes and I want to be alive … I wanna be turned on. And that’s what happens. So I dance around and bite people and stuff. It looks quite beautiful, really incredibly beautiful. I’ve never looked so pretty on film before. I mean, I’ve always looked nice, but this one is really sensational.”
Having fronted one of the first bands to truly embrace video, Debbie remained very visually orientated and was keenly aware of how, over the decade since Eat To The Beat had been issued on video cassette, television had become the preeminent medium for promoting music. This situation owed much to international cable and satellite channel MTV. “They’re so powerful it’s incredible,” observed Deborah. “They can make a record happen. If I’m part of this industry and I’m competing in the business, then I have to find it equally as important for myself.”
The Thompson Twins also contributed the sultry ‘Kiss It Better’, which included lyrics by Debbie and was selected as the disc’s second seven-inch release, though it failed to repeat the sales and airplay of its predecessor. Deborah’s new US label Sire, and Chrysalis – which had retained the rights to her releases elsewhere – plucked a further three singles from Def, Dumb And Blondie: ‘Brite Side’, the bass-driven ‘Sweet And Low’ and ‘Maybe For Sure’. Although none of these scored anything resembling a hit, ‘Brite Side’ was given additional exposure when Deborah performed the number on TV crime drama Wiseguy, as part of her short run in the role of faded rock star Diana Price. “I had two different sets of lyrics for it when the producers called up to tell me about the character,” she recalled. “Chris and I knew that one set of lyrics to ‘Brite Side’ fit who she was – a down-and-out singer who is trying to pull her life together.”
As had so often been the case with Blondie’s albums, Def, Dumb And Blonde sold in greater volume outside the US following its autumn 1989 release. In addition to making the Top 10 in both Australia and New Zealand, the disc spent seven weeks on the UK album chart, peaking at number 12. Back home, it failed to crack the Billboard Top 100. In part, this was due to Warners-owned Sire focusing on the most commercially viable end of its roster. “I didn’t get a fair shake. Some of the problems I had were with Warner Bros Records, because Madonna and I were with the same company.” asserted Debbie. “When I did Def, Dumb and Blonde she immediately came out with the ‘Blonde Ambition’ tour. Unfortunately I was on the same label, so I was definitely shoved to the back to avoid any confusion.”
The enduring nature of the Blondie persona also proved problematic. “I don’t think anybody knew how to market me or what to do with me. I was like a fish out of water,” Debbie recalls. “It’s an industry that’s based on youthful output and appearance, and the record company wasn’t really interested. I wanted to do a tough, more mature, more aggressive version of Blondie. And they didn’t really want that.”
The most significant factor about the release of Def, Dumb And Blonde was that it was supported by a tour. After a seven-year absence from performing live, Debbie opted to return to gigging in a big way. After a warm-up show at the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, New Jersey on September 25, 1989, she would remain on the road for much of the following 12 months, bouncing between the US and Europe and returning to Australia and New Zealand for the first time in over a decade.
“It’s been a real long time since I actually had a firm band and gone out and done organised shows,” Debbie stated. “It’s been so long I don’t want to say! I think the last tour was in the late summer of 1982. This time around I want to do some club dates.”
When it came to putting a band together for the tour, the first person Debbie turned to was Chris. “Working together happens,” she enthused. “It’s very easy for us.” The line-up was initially rounded out by bassist Leigh Foxx (who played on Def, Dumb And Blonde having hooked up with Debbie after stints with Iggy Pop, Patti Smith and Yoko Ono), drummer Jimmy Clarke, former Ashford & Simpson keyboard player Valerie Ghent and guitarist Carla Olla.
Performing a mixture of new material and Blondie favourites such as ‘Dreaming’, ‘Rapture’ and ‘Heart Of Glass’, the group returned to Britain for a week’s residency at London’s intimate Borderline venue in early October. While in London, Debbie appeared on primetime BBC chat show Wogan, where the eponymous host asked her why she opted to play such a small club. “To build up excitement and interest, and also I wanted to feel really comfortable and close to my audience, but mostly we wanted to find out what was happening – it’s been a while since I was on the road,” she replied.
(The genial Irishman also asked her why she was now calling herself ‘Deborah’. “That’s my name,” she shot back.)
This initial run of shows finished in Paris on December 16, resuming at the end of January with an American tour that continued until March 1990. The band then flew to New Zealand, where Deborah caused a minor media sensation by making a 40 metre bungee jump wearing nothing but a pair of shorts. After several Australian gigs, Debbie and her group returned to England to visit some larger venues, before spending summer on the ‘Escape From New York’ package with The Ramones, Jerry Harrison and The Tom Tom Club.
In addition to her appearances as Diana Price in Wiseguy, which aired in March 1989, and a small role in the Martin Scorsese-directed segment of the portmanteau movie drama New York Stories, which opened the same month, Debbie’s acting endeavours were further in evidence when she showed up in a number of roles while touring. Most notable of these was Tales From The Darkside: The Movie. Cast as a witch named Betty, Deborah’s role provided the links between three separate narrative segments, as a child she has captured for the cooking pot reads the trio of stories to her as a means of prolonging his survival. The movie also features former New York Dolls frontman David Johansen, who played a hitman hired to eliminate a malevolent cat. “Back in 1972, when we were stumbling out of the Mercer Arts Center in our platform shoes after drinking too much Southern Comfort together, who could have known we’d end up in a horror movie together,” chuckled Deborah.
On television, Debbie appeared as The Old Woman Who Lived In A Shoe in the children’s movie Mother Goose Rock’n’Rhyme (which also boasted such diverse musical talents as Little Richard, Cyndi Lauper and Art Garfunkel). She took a small role as a doctor in an episode of the Monsters horror anthology, and starred as a murder witness in the thriller Intimate Stranger – all of which aired during 1991. Although she had now appeared in more than a dozen acting roles, Debbie still came down on the side of music when asked to compare her two careers.
“Despite the work in films I still see myself above all as a singer, especially because the music still represents my identity and main source of income.,” she observed. “It would therefore be very awkward for me to throw my musical ambitions overboard completely and fully concentrate on acting. I’m probably just not good enough for that and I haven’t got enough practice to be a professional. Even though I do appreciate taking part in a film I could never completely suppress my inclination towards singing. It’s a part of my personality I don’t want to put aside. On the other hand, my parts in films have also had a great impact on my musical performance. I’ve become more confident – in singing as well as on stage.”
She returned to touring in June 1991, playing around 20 shows across Europe before making a one-off return to CBGB’s for a show in November.
In 1993, Deborah returned to the small screen – featuring alongside jazz behemoth Dizzy Gillespie in an episode of the drama series Tribeca, playing a nurse in the camp horror Body Bags and showing up as a neighbour in Nickelodeon’s Pete And Pete. More significantly, she set to work recording her fourth solo album, Debravation, for release in Au
gust that year. In contrast to Rockbird and Def, Dumb And Blonde, the disc was devised with experimentation in mind.
“Our intention was to make an album that was avant-garde and creepy and sort of threatening,” said Debbie. Put together by a grand cast of over 30 musicians and vocalists, including Chris, Leigh Foxx, former Art Of Noise keyboardist Anne Dudley and The Grid’s Richard Norris, Debravation presented a patchwork of diversity. However, the inclusion of such radical elements as a version of Nino Rota’s instrumental theme from Federico Fellini’s 1963 movie, 8½, a cover of Led Zeppelin’s ‘Black Dog’ recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon in 1991, Leigh Foxx’s ethereal, multilayered ballad ‘On A Breath’ and the funky, witty rap of ‘The Date’ proved too much for Chrysalis.
“We were met with rejection from the record company,” Deborah recounted. “The big boys wanted something more ‘refined’ and ‘commercial’. Basically, they thought it sucked.”
The label excluded the above songs from the official release and rejected the version of ‘Standing In My Way’ featuring Debbie’s duet with Joey Ramone. They also removed H. R. Giger’s avant-garde noise ‘solo’ from the version of ‘Dog Star Girl’ that appeared on Debravation. “The fucking record company didn’t have a clue, they didn’t even know what the fuck they had,” raged Chris. “It’s a really brilliant piece of music; it’s the ultimate sort of cyber, urban, tribal fucking thing for that period.”
“Good records,” asserted Debbie, “distinguish themselves through character, individuality and artistic ambition. By involving many contrasting musicians in the project it gains expression, potential and tension. You just mix different styles and methods and get something exciting and new. Of course, it can happen, as in the case of Arthur Baker [who wrote album opener ‘I Can See Clearly’] that an outside composition is fully accomplished, but then it still depends on how you interpret and adorn the song to keep your own touch. Pop music is a modern form of telling a fairy-tale. As long as your stories are exciting, people are going to listen.”