Blondie, Parallel Lives

by Dick Porter

  For Debbie, the cliché that age is simply a number rings true – she maintains an energetic lifestyle that many much younger people would find difficult to keep up with and, although Max’s, CBGB’s and Studio 54 have been consigned to memory, she still enjoys New York’s nightlife. “I love to dance,” she said. “It’s easy for me to go to clubs in New York and be anonymous and have a nice time. I listen to music and dance a few dances.”

  Unlike Chris, Deborah remains reluctant to leave the city both she and her band are synonymous with. “I travel so much that I feel like I see a lot of different places anyway. New York is where a lot of my friends are, and I have small family ties on the East Coast. The world is a small place now, travel is not really a big deal. But I guess if I was to fall madly in love with some Spaniard I would consider moving to Spain. You never know, right?”

  The idea of an artist, previously been feted as one of the world’s most beautiful women, now living alone in a modest Manhattan apartment with a succession of small dogs (and the occasional cat) for company is often represented by the media in a negative way – as if Deborah Harry were some grande dame from a forgotten golden age. It fails to take into account her fiercely independent nature. In the same way that, during the peak of Blondie’s popularity, she only ever assumed the role of frontwoman on her own terms, her lifestyle is a product of this same independence. “

  “You know, in the UK when people think of an old woman walking her dog, they think she’s sad and pathetic, living a lonely life,” she declared. “But people are much more open over here [in Manhattan]. They use the dog as an excuse to chat you up.”

  As somebody who has lived the majority of her adult life in the public eye, Deborah concedes, “my private life is pretty much my public life. My downtime I spend with friends. Occasionally I have a date, which I really don’t like to admit to.”

  In terms of relationships, Debbie maintains a laissez-faire outlook, neither desperately seeking nor avoiding any form of long-term commitment. “I have a complete life. I honestly don’t feel the lack of anything. And maybe that makes me too self-sufficient now for it ever to happen to me again. I hope not, but I really don’t know,” she remarked. “I’ve tried most things, most ways … I can certainly live with people; it just depends on who the person is.”

  While Deborah concedes that her public image makes her appear a challenging proposition to some prospective suitors, she claims the perception is wholly superficial. “I’m not a real high-maintenance person,” she declares. “If they only knew what a mushnik I am! It makes me laugh and it teaches me a lesson. When I meet people who I admire and who are really famous, I’m just like that. And then I think, ‘Oh God, I see people responding to me like that.’ It’s not the way to go, not the way to handle it.”

  For all her self-confidence, Debbie does not insist on being the dominant half of a relationship. “Men like to take the lead. I don’t mind a man taking the lead, but I’m used to doing things. So it takes a person who is very sure of himself, very comfortable, not offended and not uptight. Men are so fragile in that area. About power. It’s funny.”

  Essentially, it seems she has no great sense of need. “I have friends who are so systematic about picking up boys,” she explained. “I’m not that systematic. I don’t feel I have to have somebody every single night but I do have friends who are like that, who go out every single night specifically to meet people and have sex. I’m a little bit careful about that. I think I have to be. I was a little bit like that when I was younger and sometimes it backfired on me. At this stage in my life, I think with the notoriety and the fame I have, it would be problematic.”

  Chance often plays a huge part in the formation of personal relationships, and for Debbie it may simply be a matter of encountering the right person at the right time. “I like people who are complicated – that intrigues me. I like a challenge. It’s the adventure in me. I’d like to go to parts of the earth that haven’t been explored yet. But I don’t know about dangerous emotional terrain, because it depends how bad the boy is. I don’t have much tolerance for a person who’s truly, truly bad. It would depend on how secure I felt within myself, I suppose. I would like to think I could give a person a lot of freedom, because I need a lot of freedom myself.”

  In any event, the interpersonal chemistry would need to be suitably matched. “I think what I learnt from having this relationship with Chris is that you can evolve from one thing into another to make it work,” she explained. “We balanced each other out so well, so one would only hope that if you wanted it enough, anything is possible to balance the other person out.”

  As to the media’s recurring question of why she and Chris never married or had children, these are two forms of commitment that Debbie remains open-minded about. “Marriage might be nice. I grew up in an era when marriage vows were very limited, so I just thought that the whole thing was a bad deal. I barely obeyed my parents – why would I have wanted to obey a husband?”

  As Debbie has reached the age where it is now biologically impossible for her to bear children, adoption seems her only likely route to becoming a parent. As an adoptee herself she remains aware of the possibility, but has preferred to help children via involvement in a number of philanthropic schemes. “I’ve thought of adoption, which I think I’d be really good at. Now that this terrible [March 2011 earthquake] has happened in Japan, there will be a lot of children needing homes. I spread myself around a lot of causes – I’m concerned about the environment and clean water, and being carbon-free. I also support diabetes [research],” she revealed. “These things are really important to me now. I applaud people like Elton John who have used their position to do so much good and I felt it was something I should do too.”

  As the comedian George Burns once observed, “You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old.” While this certainly applies to Debbie, the fact that her image once adorned thousands of bedroom walls has ensured an ongoing fascination with how she continues to look good despite the ageing process. “Some people I talk to in Britain, women in particular, won’t let up on the topic – to the point where I want to scream,” she asserts. “While I can understand the motivation, I can’t help thinking it makes very gruesome sport. The art of growing old gracefully is not much championed in today’s society, and most especially not in the entertainment industry. I find that really sad. But am I going to let it stop me getting on with my life? Very definitely I am not. In areas other than pop, you continue to be valued for as long as you have inspiration and the ability. Longevity is actually prized, rather than seen as a liability. It’s not all about being young and pretty, or the Next Big Thing.”

  Typically forthright, Deborah has never attempted to disguise how she had cosmetic surgery and employs a personal trainer to help keep her weight down. “I’ve done everything and will probably continue to do everything,” she insisted. “I think Joan Rivers has the right idea and I think Cher looks great. We all try to look as good as we can, but I do have moments when I slob around – I don’t wear make-up every day and I’ll just put on some shades when I go out. I did go through a period when I let myself go, but I got sick of the way I looked in clothes, so I started working out again. It’s important to me and to the business I’m in that I take care of myself. I guess a lot of what I’ve traded on over the years has been my looks, but I do feel better when I look good.”

  “Ageism is one of the most serious prejudices that people face,” Debbie also opined. “When I was younger I felt the same way like, ‘OK you old fart, get outta the fucking way, it’s my turn now!’ I certainly understand that. It’s a survival mechanism. But now that I’m in that dangerous position, I think I have something to offer because I’ve got much better at what I do than I ever was. I think experience really counts. Coming from that punk world, having a stubborn attitude and being a punk, as it were, that definitely works in my favour because I have that attitude of, ‘You fuck, just try it!’ I have a re
bellious attitude and nature. That’s part of my make-up.”

  Sadly, one aspect of ageing that even Debbie can do little about is the way in which, as the years pass, old friends disappear forever. “Unfortunately, a lot of the old gang is dead now. I come from an era when people were taking a lot of drugs and there wasn’t much knowledge about them; I would say at least 60 per cent of the people I came up with in New York are dead: Johnny Thunders, Jerry [Nolan] from The Dolls. And then a lot of the people who surrounded the bands are gone. I have been to a lot of funerals.”

  Given that this fate could so easily have befallen Chris, it is heartening to find him now in good shape and settled into family life, while still maintaining the enthusiasm for music and popular culture that defined his creative output. “My biggest regret is smoking pot constantly for 10 or 15 years, because it definitely takes away your edge,” he observed. “It’s like the guys in South Park say: it makes being bored seem like an OK thing.”

  Like many of his peers from the blank generation, Chris finds that while good, groundbreaking music is still being made, rock’n’roll isn’t what it used to be. “It doesn’t have the same kind of cachet. It’s not an outsider thing any more; it’s so mainstream. That’s why Lady Gaga is so popular now. Part of her success comes from her freakiness because people are attracted to that. But we are in a weird place today. On one hand, you have to struggle to get in with a record company who is going to give you $100,000-$200,000 to make a record. At the same time, two kids with a computer can make a record in their basement for $3,000. I don’t know if that’s better or not. There is something to be said about working hard versus just throwing something down made out of loops. You have to weed through the shit but I do hear a lot of great stuff like Fever Ray, which sounds like it’s all done on the computer. It’s fantastic.”

  “I’m glad we came from the era we did,” observed Debbie. “Fame today is very different. Back then we felt like pioneers. It was amazing being a woman in a band and there were others, from Patti Smith to Siouxsie Sioux, who were changing the way women in bands were seen. Now music has become showbiz; it’s all one big celebrity blob. There is so much pressure on kids today. I don’t know how well I would have fared under such an intense microscope.”

  Reflecting on her own contribution to the status of women in rock, Deborah admits to hoping she made a positive difference. “I would like to think that because I have actually done something to change the way things are, it might inspire other people to do the same. I hate to use the word ‘struggles’, but I have had a few over the years. I’ve had as many problems in my own life as other people have had in theirs.”

  “All the things that Debbie got rapped for are really commonplace now,” declared Clem. “To be a beautiful woman, and to play rock music, and to use her sexuality like that – people really came down hard on her. I remember there was one picture of Debbie with her tongue sticking out, licking a record. That caused so much trouble.”

  “I don’t know that I was really trying to do anything, except learn how to do what I do,” mused Deborah. “People have a great fondness for the music from that time, I know. The essence of punk rock lingers on, carries on. But maybe not everyone’s aware of the historic importance, the real changes that occurred then. I mean, you had the Women’s Lib movement. And also Gay Lib. That’s two pretty major sexual revolutions that happened in quick succession. As a frontperson was I subversive? I don’t know if I was that in control of everything. I was searching, trying to express myself. To discover where I fitted into this whole picture. It was pretty confusing then, more than it is now, to be a woman or girl in front of a band. A lot of people were really against it – they hated it.”

  “It’s a weird paradox in a way: we’ve had more number one records in the States than a lot of other bands, but we’re not really in the mainstream,” said Clem. “We’ve kept our artistic integrity while having some commercial success. It’s a very Andy Warholish thing, having success the way we have. What Andy was doing in the art world was very influential for all of us. What does pop art mean? It’s to create something within popular culture that’s almost throwaway or trashy, which has a lot to do with the aesthetic of Blondie in the early days, especially when you think of B-movies; when we were writing about giant ants from space and things like that, it was all tongue-in-cheek. But as we grew in popularity and the culture progressed, a lot of things we thought were private property became mainstream.”

  Clem’s comparison of Blondie and the Warhol aesthetic seems particularly valid – the band brought aspects of underground culture and art into the mainstream in such a way that they were reproduced across the media. It could be said that this confluence of art and commerce had its nexus in the New York City that both band and artist came to represent.

  “If you ever read back over all the old press, Chris and I really promoted that New York scene,” stated Deborah. “Chris spoke articulately about CBGB’s, and we valued our friends’ bands as much as we valued Blondie! We really flew the flag … My art teacher told me in high school – it’s 50 per cent talent and 50 per cent promotion. You write what you write but can you make it available to commerce? There are some genius creators and composers in this world who can’t sell themselves. We could. We were popular, but we worked hard at it. It doesn’t happen as if by magic.”

  Despite the recognition Blondie have received, Deborah shies away from the kind of grandiose terms that are bandied around too readily. “The word ‘iconic’ is used too frequently,” she insists. “An icon is a statue carved in wood. It was shocking at first, when I got that reference. It was a responsibility, and it’s impossible to live up to – you’re supposed to be dead, for one thing. I’m still sort of a cult figure. I’m not J-Lo, I’m not in the gossip mags and USA Today. Sometimes I’m in the New York Post.“

  Likewise, she retains a sense of perspective when it comes to the period from which Blondie originated. “Nostalgia is a drag. But it’s also enough to make you want to fight for your individuality and make a statement that’s not contained within the selling of a product. When we were coming up it was such an open period for art and music, and I was so lucky to have had that experience. It was wonderful to be in love, doing what I was doing. It was something that happens only once in a lifetime. It was my period of innocence, and just great to have had my freedom.”

  “I’ve had a lot of really extraordinary things happen to me,” Deborah further recalled. “We survived. I survived. Blondie survived. I hope something more than the short, concise, literal version survives, because that would make no sense at all. It’s not just about the soundbites, it’s about the layers.”

  Dig beneath those layers to the core of Blondie and you will find one consistent element – the partnership of Debbie and Chris, which endures to this day. “I just love Chris very, very much. He’s got a great sense of humour, a great talent. I think we were really lucky to meet each other and have this great adventure. We’ve certainly had a lot of help from other people. But basically we’ve stuck it out,” Deborah declared. “I don’t know if I would have been able to make it in music to the degree that I did without Chris. He was so nonchalant … I never expected anything like this. I was never one to read fan magazines. I didn’t know what the music business was about. I just had this vague idea that I wanted to express myself. And I did it. Weird, huh?”

  It seems likely that Blondie will continue for as long as Debbie and Chris are able and willing. “I always admire people with longevity. It’s the most valuable asset of any of the arts,” asserted Deborah. “The dust that collects around you is what you are. For us it’s the songs. We wrote a lot of songs; from ‘Heart Of Glass’ to ‘Sunday Girl’ … People tell us they still sound fresh and they stand up. On top of that we bring in something new. I think we play better, sing better, perform better than we ever did. Artists have to grow.”

  “Popular culture has aged, and we’ve aged along with it,” remarked Clem. “It ha
s to do with the generation we’re from. People still have an interest in art and music, and it carries through at more of a mass level than before. We’re all interested in many different aspects of the media. This enables us to keep going. Now, Blondie is a home base for all of us. I wish we would’ve seen it that way before.”

  “It’s good,” asserts Chris. “After this, I’m still working and really enjoying stuff. I really enjoy working with the computers, digital stuff, still working on songs. Computers make things faster and more flexible. We’ll see what happens because we’re going to keep doing stuff and it’s easier to make music now.”

  As for Debbie, her enthusiasm for the band formed amidst the squalor of The Bowery all those years ago remains undimmed. “I’m just loving it, really – working with great people and doing the thing I adore. When you’re alive and you like life, you have to go out there and live it to the fullest. You may not be happy about going to your end, but hey, at least I flogged it while I had it.”

  Acknowledgements

  There have been several books about Blondie over the years but, curiously, never one which tells the whole remarkable story. As editor of Blondie’s most fervent press champion, Zigzag, I interviewed and befriended them to the extent I’d be summoned to hang out when they were in town, witness tour rehearsals in a space the size of a living room, or flee with them on the bus as Blondie-mania raged all around like a scene from A Hard Day’s Night – once stopping traffic in Kensington High Street, when 3,000 fans turned up for an in-store signing. During Blondie’s initial five-year supernova, the need to chronicle this phenomenon was glaringly evident but never got further than the pages of my magazine. I knew that Debbie and Chris were planning their own book, so I didn’t want to tread on their toes.