BLONDIE- Nokia Theater

BLONDIE’S HEAVEN
By Rich Rickaby- Contributing Writer
11/30/10

     “Blondie’s coming to town, wanna go?” asked co-worker Susan. “Sure. When? Where? How much?” That’s how it started. I had never seen Blondie before but back in the day, Christine and I, a childhood friend, would listen to the 8-Track of Parallel Lines repeatedly when we weren’t listening to Cheap Trick at Budokan or Boston’s Boston, repeatedly. I did a good job of cleaning up some holes in my Rock & Roll history recently, Squeeze and Cheap Trick got checked off my list. I saw the Smashing Pumpkins again, which happened to be the best of the 3 times I had seen them and my eye was on Roger Waters doing The Wall in November. So it seemed like the perfect chance to rock out some more and add another band to my history. I’ve yet to forgive myself for missing Johnny Cash at Carnegie Hall, so my motto is now, “Get it while you can.”

     So, Susan secured the tickets, I paid her back and we made plans to meet at Grand Central Station (GCS) before going to the show. We bought the tickets well in advance so their urgency dissipated once they were in our hands. About a day before the show I thought, “Oh yeah, I’m going to see Blondie at the end of the month.” My reflex thought was, “Hey, the end of the month’s tomorrow!” I only mention this because when I reminded Susan that we were going to see Blondie she said, “You know, I keep thinking it’s at the end of next month for some reason.” So we were lucky to even show up. At least we were on the same calendar page, the wrong one.

     “I wonder who the warm up band is?” said Susan. She immediately turned back to her computer to check online. “Gorvette? Ever hear of them?” “Nope.” “I guess we’ll find out.” The night of the show we met by the clock in GCS and headed for a Mexican restaurant so we could properly ply ourselves with Tequila (woo!). It is Rock & Roll after all. Neither of us had been to the Nokia Theater before in Times Square, NYC but we knew it was general admission. This caused some concern because Susan had a skiing accident she was still recovering from. She didn’t wear her leg brace that night but in the name of Rock & Roll, we hoped this would be good therapy for her, standing around and rocking. I don’t think Susan had seen Blondie before either.

     We passed through security with our joint intact and headed for the bar. “ID please,” said the attendant. She had a handful of bracelets to put on those of a certain drinking age. We flattered ourselves that she asked for it though we knew it was protocol. “Can I get two please? I don’t know how much I’m drinking tonight.” I joked. She didn’t laugh. As we entered the theater I got a text from my friend Liam, “In @ blondie 10 ft from stage.”

     Liam is a character. He’s fun, funny, a bit overweight and he bumbles a lot. He speaks in rapid, run-on sentences that don’t seem to pass through any filter so he’s one of those friends that I don’t know should mix with work friends. But Susan’s cool and this is R&R. Besides that, he was standing right in front of us. I’d know his Yes shirt anywhere. He only wears that or a Grateful Dead or Jerry Garcia T-Shirt.“Hey Liam,” I tap him on the back.

     The crowd is gathering and for the most part, seems to be over the idea of pushing and shoving for the front of the stage since we all did that years ago. I mean, Debbie is 65 at this point and her fans have aged accordingly. 'Heart of Glass' off 'Parallel Lines' topped the charts in ’79. Please, don’t do the math.“Hey Rich, how you doing?” Liam turned towards us. I introduced Susan. “Oh hey,” said Liam, “Is this your first time too?” “Yeah,” she replied with a smile. “Wait 'til you see her, she’s great. I’ve seen her 10 or 20 or I don’t know how many times. I just hope she does 'Atomic'. I think that’s my favorite Blondie song and they didn’t do it when I saw them at X, Y or Z but when they were touring, well, this tour is for their new album, 'Panic of Girls', but it’s not out yet, so I don’t know what they’re doing.”

     “I’m gonna get another beer, you want one? Asked Susan. “Yeah, thanks, “ I said. “No thanks,” said Liam, “I’m gonna secure my spot. Thanks though, good meeting you.” He turned back to the people who had gathered five deep at center stage. Susan came back with the beer and the lights dimmed and Gorvette took the stage. They were a pop punk girl band with a guy drummer. They were fun, like they fell out of a John Waters’ movie, (Debbie Harry’s been in a John Waters’ movie) and I was wonderfully surprised to find myself dancing the pogo when they did back to back covers of 'What Do I Get?' by the 'Buzzcocks' and 'Good Girls Don’t'. I think I was the only one in the audience who knew that one.

     “Who is this?” a guy asked me. He knew the song but…“'The Knack', it was their follow up to 'My Sharona'.” “Right,” the guy said and bounced away. Susan didn’t know the song. I think she left AM for FM radio before I did but she space danced as best she could, being mindful of her leg. I had two band moments, where I know they spotted me; we made contact man. One was with the faux heroin chic bass player in rusty maroon and the other was with the roley poley bubble in pink lead singer buoyantly bouncing around and singing when she wasn’t chewing her gum or twirling her pink hair. I assume I’m the only person they’ve seen on this tour who knew all the words to sing along. The crowd really enjoyed them and then it was time for intermission and bathroom break.

     And then Blondie took the stage. And they took the stage. What is the difference between warm up bands and headliners? Do they pump the volume up more for the stars? Are the stars the stars because they can do what the warm ups can’t with the same stuff? I don’t know, but Blondie Fn rocked. Debbie was there, stoic at center stage with black sunglasses resting on her cat-like cheeks. She had a black leather skirt on, looked great and rocked without looking foolish. She took her glasses off later in the show and looked even greater. I’ve loved their songs for years and Debbie; she’s worked with Cronenberg/Videodrome, John Waters/Hairspray, was in Wigstock the Movie and when they got inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame she told her old band mates, “No you can’t play with us we got a band.” That’s the story anyway, her and Chris Stein splitting from the other two or three.

     Is she warm with a touch of cold or cold with a touch of warm? I don’t know but she is a force. And the band rocked and rocked…'One Way or Another', 'Hanging on the Telephone', yeah they did 'Rapture' which she was so cool to mainstream waaaay early in the game and drove the night home with, 'The Hardest Part'. That one I didn’t know but loved instantly, as if hi-beams were suddenly on me with a truck barreling down and the only thing I could do to save myself was to love it. It was the impact. The band was just tight and rocking more than steady and driving on and on. Every so often they’d let the new guitarist show off (new to me anyway, he could be with the band for 10 years by now for all I know) and he loved it. He’d show off with poses and pickings that never got too far out of place, he was in on the joke.

     Susan and I both tried recording songs to our phones but it’s nothing you can
listen back to after the next day. “So you see the keyboardist?” I say to Susan, bouncing next to her ear. “Yeah.” “Monica knows his wife.” Monica is my neighbor. “Yeah", says Susan, knowing there’s more.“Well, she says that her friend says that the after party’s at the Hudson Hotel.” “Where’s that?” “10 blocks from here, plus an avenue or two.” “Hmmm?” we both made questioning looks of consideration.

     Blondie, Debbie and the gang did 'Atomic' and Liam went nuts. I expected to see him and his Yes shirt being passed around the crowd but its not that kind of song. 'Heart of Glass' was shiny and new to me. Shiny and new and loud. My sister’s 8-Track player could never go that high. Her 10 was like Blondie’s 3 or 2 or 0. I can’t express how impressed I was by the sheer rock and roll coming off the stage. Really, why was this my first time seeing them? Now that I’d grown, if not matured, the words had more depth and meaning and new impact. Like now I understood why she was, 'Hanging on the Telephone' like she was. It was this show and the Smashing Pumpkins some weeks before that proved to me that Rock & Roll was still alive and kicking. Hallelujah. Blondie played their encore, picks were tossed to the crowd by the new guitarist and set lists were torn in the fan grabbing aftermath.

     We stopped to look at the merchandise table. I don’t remember if Susan got a T-Shirt. There were some things I was interested in but it was always the wrong price or the right graphic on the wrong thing. “So, do you want to go?” I asked Susan. Liam had already taken off. She pondered. She looked at her leg. She kept thinking. “I know. I know, I know, I know, are we going to get in? I’ve been there enough. But we know the place and the password. We should at least check it out.” “Well I gotta stop for coffee along the way,” she said as if putting forth a monumental ultimatum.

     She needed to sit too. So did I. It wasn’t like Debbie was going to be rushing out of from backstage either, panicked she’d miss the after-party. She can go anytime she wants. After nursing our lattes, Susan and I finished our journey to W. 58th Street. “This is it,” I said. “It doesn’t look like a hotel.” Susan was right. The Hudson is mostly white slabs with nothing looking out onto the street. There’s a glass door to an escalator with lemon-lime lighting. But that escalator did transport us to another place.

     Art nouveau carvings framed the reception desk and dark halls and exposed brick lead us out to an exposed roof area for sitting and eating. Among this designer hotel’s interior we moved and limped, veterans of rock in post-concert sweat with clothes to match.“So where is this after-party?” we wondered. Nothing in the corridor, nothing on the patio and the other side led down to…“There it is.” I said. “There’s what?” “The red rope.”

     Behind it were standing a medium height, medium build bearded moustache guy in a white band leader outfit. He had the hat and gold brocade on the double breasted jacket to match, hard to miss once you saw him. In his hand, tucked firmly, like a football when the QBs making a run for it, was the clip board; St. Peter for Blondie’s heaven. Behind him was a big black guy with his arms crossed, 'nuff said. I didn’t want to get shot down. I’ve gotten into these things by guile and I’ve gotten into these things legit. But I’ve also not gotten into these things. Legit is nice ‘cos you know you’re getting in but guile has plenty to offer on the adrenaline scale.

     This was all supposed to be legit, I had good sources but this is also Rock & Roll NYC so anything can happen. But to be shot down in front of a co-worker who dragged her rehabilitating leg and self on up here…“Well, we gotta try it.” “Well, yeah,” said Susan, wondering what the question was. “What’s the worst? They’ll tell us to go.” So we approached. St. Peter saw us coming and started to reveal the clipboard like a school master preparing for roll call. His back up drew in a breath, making his big chest bigger. “Hello, we’re here for the Gorvette/Blondie after party. I’m told to say, “Panic.”

     His eyes didn’t even graze the clipboard. He opened like a flower as he unhooked the rope and let us in. Blondie’s Heaven consisted of a 20 x 40 foot room with a red velvet pool table, loungey couches, a bar and a DJ. The DJ was one of the first notorieties I noticed, Miss Guy, which meant that Lady Bunny couldn’t be far, which he/she wasn’t. They danced together real fast as soon as they saw each other. Phone cameras whipped out like the FBI flashing IDs. Susan and I were about half way through our beer when Debbie entered. There was some clapping that started but never took momentum because everyone was too cool to clap, even the ones who clapped by accident in a just kidding sort of way.

     Debbie’s cheeks are as strong as her shoulders. She drifted over to Station DJ and made nice with Lady Bunny; they go back to the days of Wigstock, ’95 and before. Others were obviously friends, business or acquaintances. There wasn’t a mob scene but the room was growing tighter. “All right, follow me.” I put my beer down and snaked Susan and myself over to Debbie. She had just been greeted by a familiar and was making nice. When she was done, I had my opportunity. I smiled, spoke forth and said, “Thank you so much. You were great.” She mustered a sneer or a smile and turned back to her comfort zone. In doing so, she bumped my elbow with hers.

Debbie Harry performs with The Jazz Passengers

     Cold with a touch of warm or warm with a touch of cold? I don’t know but now, I had literally rubbed elbows with Debbie Harry. Susan smiled and mimicked me rubbing elbows with a chicken dance -like gesture, always a good sign to leave. We shared a cab downtown and called it a night, a great night. The next day at work when I saw Susan, “That was great.” “That was great.” “Did you tell your kids?” I asked. “Do they think you’re cool?” “Oh, they know I’m cool,” she feigned. I only asked because I saw Beck with Susan and her daughter. Blair was thrilled to get his autograph on her T-Shirt after the show. I figured she understood the thrill of meeting a celebrity.

     “Hey, you know Debbie sings with a jazz group?” said Susan. “Yeah? Who? “The Jazz Passengers. She’s singing with them at The Jazz Standard. It’s under Blue Smoke. Wanna go?” By the end of that one, we didn’t rub elbows but, “Oh, would you please sign this sketch I did of you and the band while you were playing, please? You were great.” “Where do you want me to sign?” There wasn’t much joy in her voice. She was a little chilly-warm to that too; always Debbie.

The signed sketch from that night

Rock on.