•
Rating:
The paradigm shift sometimes comes like a kick in the balls, sometimes gently like an idea that is born in a dream.
Maybe it's because I've reached the age where I finally understand what Bob meant by “I was so much older then I'm younger than that now” only recently, maybe it's because time passes and one starts to fear not squeezing enough out of that shriveled peach we call life, maybe it's because I've always been a boring child (no, that's not true, I only say it for poetic license) but until recently I just couldn't understand how someone named Jeffry Lee Pierce, who sang about love and death from the swamp, could have been the president of the US Blondie's Fun Club.
Because, due to the tedious and sterilely committed culture of the '70s, there was great attention to distinguishing so-called serious music from so-called frivolous music; and when I say “they did,” I essentially mean “I did” because until at least the age of fourteen (when I met the first metal fundamentalists) there weren't many other acquaintances around in my provincial small town with whom I could discuss music and records.
But all great systems are challenged by the incalculable unknowns, and Blondie is certainly one of those cases.
Champions of the New Wave and great friends with the legendary CBGB scene, they were undoubtedly the ones who achieved the most mainstream success thanks to their carefree manner, being excellent songwriters, more than decent musicians, and the unforgettable image of Debbie Harry.
Can you forgive a kid in the midst of pre-adolescent discovery for dismissing Blondie in the pile of frivolousness because of their glossy image and catchy choruses, guilty of not appearing gloomy, convoluted, sad, and easily assimilable and enjoyable even by the most ignorant friend in the group?
Yes, you can forgive because the search for one's identity, as we all know, often leads us to reject what is accepted and imposed by the masses.
But can you continue to believe that this snobbery can continue to permeate a more mature person, who is supposed to have completed their coming-of-age journey and now sweet and blissful, safe from any criticism, reigns over their present with their solid and badass personality?
Hardly.
As is known, I find myself in the unpleasant situation of having to retrace my steps and reconsider some of my old opinions on what is serious and what is frivolous, a situation, however, that already foreshadows (as a feeling for now, but one that will be increasingly harder to ignore) how this very distinction is a colossal load of crap.
So, what remains once you overcome this distinction? To drink it all up blissfully and contently without any critical spirit? To lower your pants to the culture of frivolity? To finally become a hedonist of an imaginary and special present?
But isn't it possible that freeing myself from this burden of taking sides, finally accepting reality without the perpetual challenge of confrontation, achieving my own squaring of the circle, might then push me away from the world of art and music itself, towards the warm embrace of life which needs no substitutes to be understood and internalized?
Well, I don't know this, and honestly, I don't care much, but I really hope that this new maturity has the features of Debbie, her imperfect beauty, her whimsical way of lip-syncing, her hair blonde only in the front, her shocking pink dresses, and the great fun it gives to see her perform.
About the album: just before the clamor, just before the breakthrough, just before the change and maturity (let's call it that, shall we) artistic. In my opinion, the best way to know and enjoy this fantastic band.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Fan Mail (02:42)
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted off the page.
I sold my one vision for a piece of the cake... I haven't ate in days.
For unspoken value, aesthetic, and charm, I'd smile at you sideways,
But the lighting is wrong.
I'm taking a picture, and counting the cost, while the bells in my ears keep ringing.
I set my hand to writing you... it drifted of the page.
I nearly fell, I feel like a lowlife in hell and I haven't slept in days and days, days and days...
Beat on my Fender through my Gemini 2, play to the posters on the wall of my room.
Thought I was crazy when I'd think about you... And the bells in my ears keep ringing.
And the bells in my ears keep ringing.
In my ear bells are ringing.
02 Denis (02:21)
Oh Denis ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, Denis oh with your eyes so blue
Denis, Denis, I've got a crush on you
Denis, Denis, I'm so in love with you
Oh when we walk it always feels so nice
And when we talk it seems like paradise
Denis, Denis, I'm so in love with you
You're my king and I'm in heaven every time I look at you
When you smile it's like a dream
And I'm so lucky, 'cause I found a boy like you
Denis, Denis, avec tes yeux si bleus
Denis, Denis, Quand j'ai peche' pour deux
Denis, Denis, Pour un baiser d'eternite'
Denis, Denis, Je suis folle de toi
Denis, Denis, Embrasse moi ce soir
Denis, Denis, Pour un baiser d'eternite
Oh Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
Denis, ooh-be-do, I'm in love with you
04 Youth Nabbed as Sniper (03:06)
Don't look in here, yeah.
Sundown finds him out of town on the overpass,
his inner self glued to his .22.
Dirty metal in the speed of night, lights and broken glass.
My heart can destroy all I see.
Moving streets all make me lonely!
Come to me and be mine only.
I can hide us far from sight, but you must wait and I must fight this nothingness.
Walls, I see my little room...
I hear my parent's friends.
I hope that my actions make amends!
I would like to kill for love but I don't know how...
Here I lie so high above the crowd.
Busy streets all make me lonely!
Come to me and be mine only.
I can move us through the night, but you must wait and I must fight this emptiness.
Black top burns with silent screams.
Others stop my dreams.
Lightning Crash! Crash! Crash!
Fear causes some to live, others die real cool.
I died in the evening after school.
Be mine only.
Be my own.
Be mine only.
Be my own.
05 Contact in Red Square (02:04)
1 2 3 4
Although I'm young I got a job to do.
Hid the microfilm in the lining of my shoe.
Call it a business trip.
Got to hide inside my trenchcoat and be clever .
I got my papers and a cyanide pill.
My polaroid's a taser in disguise.
There's a base in the hills, and the wheat fields looks like Kansas in November.
Astrovia, sweet comrade, your nation is your gun.
Your love reads like the broken code you sent me.
One last contact in red square, unless I have to run and the long arms of the K.G.B. detect me.
Can't trust a soul, secret messenger, just the rules that lie like circuits in your brain and a cool .45.
The wind is ice and foreign air tastes strange.
I.C.B.M.
Bang! Bang! You're dead!
No one left to worry.
Kiss me quick, now I have to hurry.
Our last contact in red square, unless I have to run and the long arms of the C.I.A. detect me.
Hey!
Hey! Hey!
08 I Didn't Have the Nerve to Say No (02:57)
You got ants in your pants.
I don't understand.
I don't trust the flick of your eyes.
You're a viper and love's a fever.
You said something profane and went for a vein but in spite of your "delicate touch", I should have known as much: I'm a bleeder.
I didn't have the nerve to say no.
I didn't have the nerve to say no.
You caught me surprised and my will resigned.
Torture the minds of them all.
You're a brain drain, you'd better beat it.
I'm following lines.
The blind leads the blind.
So hang me or grant me a stay.
You better cut me loose or hand me a noose.
There's no end to the problem of a bad situation.
Complication.
No, no, no, no, ah.
There's no end to the problem and frustration.
I need a vacation.
No, no, no, no, ah.
And I know I couldn't.
And I know that I couldn't say no.
10 No Imagination (03:00)
Eyes that tell me "baby, you don't need no invitation".
Let me smoke another cigarette before I make a move.
I can see me in the morning; losing my direction, deep inside my overcoat, looking for the door.
I don't wanna stay with you.
I just wanna play with you.
One sweet abbreviation sleeping like the dead.
You think you're pretty, well, so do I.
You came to me but, passion eyes, got no imagination to clutter up my head.
Eyes that mirror innocence and cannot sense the changes.
Lets have another drink, dear, before we get deranged.
I can see me in the morning; avoiding your detection, slowly down the staircase, looking for the door.
All is fair in love and war but I don't want your love no more.
One sweet abbreviation sleeping like the dead.
You're fragile and you're very green, conditioned by a milk machine.
Got no imagination.
Got no imagination.
No.
Take a walk, kid.
Eyes that tell me "baby, you don't need no invitation".
Let me smoke another cigarette before I make a move.
I can see me in the morning; losing my direction, deep inside my overcoat, footsteps for the door.
11 Kidnapper (02:42)
Uh hey! You've got an unnerving face and twitching eyes like Norman Bates.
You got a cigarette, eye on a mirror.
Farm boy brown gas station sweeper.
You took that girl, you put the saddle on her.
Just thirteen, she's her daddy's apple, and she don't know you're the kidnapper, uh-huh.
Uh hey! Your daddy's Whiskey Sam.
He's got bloodshot eyes like Ray Milland.
Playin' solitaire, your mother fidgets.
You wanna be rich but you won't dig ditches.
She bitches like a brat.
She got the money.
People breaking their necks and she thinks it's funny.
Where's your old man now?
Nobody's home, uh-huh.
Kidnapper.
Uh hey! They call you Skinny Jim and nobody knows the boat you're in.
They dipped your tail when you were back in school.
Well, you're a real strange cake but your nobody's fool.
So you took that girl and you put the saddle on her.
Just thirteen.
She's fresh out of diapers and she don't know your the kidnapper, uh-huh.
12 Detroit 442 (02:30)
You know he can't be tested.
He can't be read or found.
Urban gray takes breath away.
He wants to push his pedal to the ground.
And the night's what's right.
Puts him at the wheel.
Well, I eat danger.
Any stranger is all right.
Feel hot to go like Jimmy O.
Dodging flying objects at the show.
And the lights make me fight.
In Detroit 442...
Maybe, baby, I could ride with you.
This town's a concrete factory and dad and mom look just like me.
I'm on the plant assembly line.
Too late now.
Too far behind!
You said you wanna hang around.
No one really cares where you go.
Take your time.
Things never change.
In Detroit 442 maybe baby I could ride with you.
One more to market, one more piggie, and they all, they all look just like me, yeah.
13 Cautious Lip (04:26)
All the way down do it.
Another way down.
Why, yeah.
What do you know huh?
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Now tell me this through that cautious lip.
You can be bit as I make you it.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
A chance you'll fit that cautious lip.
It's just these things, not really gifts.
It's just these things, not really gifts.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
I seen you skip that cautious lip, but never miss my bouncing hips.
A girl so sweet.
A love so strong.
I seen you skip, I see you tip.
You can be bit as I make you it.
I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Ah I seen you skip that cautious lip.
Ah.
Cautious lip cautious lip.
You can be bit.
I'll make you it.
I seen you skip.
Cautious lip.
Change your fit.
Skip of the lip.
Oh oh not really get.
Skip lip oh oh arggghhhhh ah ah!
Whats going on?
No way.
Loading comments slowly
