Blondie: "Call Me"

17 April 1980

"The resulting drama manages to suggest empires crashing to dust without getting a single peroxide hair out of place."

— David Hepworth

 

This issue of Smash Hits hit the British newsagents on April 17, 1980. On the same day, on the other side of the Atlantic, the New York Islanders defeated the Boston Bruins in overtime to take a decisive two-games-to-none lead in their National Hockey League playoff series. Two days later, Blondie's "Call Me" would hit the top of the Hot 100; a week after that it would also be at the top of the UK charts. At the same time, the Islanders were preparing to meet the Buffalo Sabres in the next round of the playoffs. On May 24, "Call Me" would be enjoying its sixth and final week at the top of the Billboard listings while the Islanders were busy defeating the Philadelphia Flyers in overtime to capture their first of four straight Stanley Cups.

A band's imperial period is not unlike a dynasty in sports. Said organization is at their peak, they inspire equal amounts of awe, envy and loathing in competitors and/or fans of other groups/teams and everything seems to go their way — even when they happen to release a so-so single or play a bad game. Not every Blondie song from the height of their popularity was a winner but their British fanbase loyally helped them have hit single after hit single (a rare exception can be found in the relative failure of the otherwise excellent "Union City Blue", though it does remain a firm fan favourite). The Islanders struggled during the 1980 and '83 regular seasons and found themselves on the brink of elimination at the hands of vastly inferior teams in the '82 and '84 playoffs yet they persevered, winning a remarkable nineteen playoff series in a row, a record that seems unlikely ever to be broken.

And yet, an imperial period or dynasty in one part of the world may mean nothing elsewhere. While "Call Me" seems to mark a shift from the British version of Blondie to a much more American iteration, their success in the UK never waned until "Island of Lost Souls" missed the top 10 while its accompanying album The Hunter badly under-performed — and even then, they retained enough interest over the years that their 1999 single "Maria" became an unexpected British chart topper. Their American success was much more sporadic with three number one singles and a handful of minor hits. Few in North America even knew the sublime "Atomic" until it appeared in the 1996 film Trainspotting and massive UK hits like "Denis" and "Sunday Girl" remain relatively obscure in Blondie's homeland. (If they had an American imperial period at all, it would have begun with the rise of "Call Me" only to level off barely a year later) Meanwhile, the Islanders were the toast of the hockey world in the early eighties yet their mystique disappeared outside of that specialist realm; ask the British who was the preeminent dynastic sports franchise of the time and they'd say it was Liverpool FC.

"Call Me" suggests that Blondie were on such a roll that they could take a subpar tune and turn it into a pretty good single. Famed disco producer Giorgio Moroder hadn't been present for "Heart of Glass" or "Atomic" but his influence was all over them. Ironically, his stamp is less obvious on the one song of their's that he did produce. Coming in a culture that suddenly had less time for disco, they wisely disguised "Call Me" in layers of guitars and gave it more of a rock beat (David Hepworth's observation that its chord change "could have walked straight out of Status Quo's "Break the Rules" (I kid you not)" is absolutely correct), possibly hinting at a return to a time when Blondie was a CBGB's act that did well in Australia and the UK but were no hopers in America. Well, not quite. While most of the record wouldn't have gone over well in the discotheques, its middle eight ("Anytime, anyplace, anywhere, any way,,,") followed by a synthetic instrumental part are very much in line with their dancier side.

This mix of styles makes for something of a mess but Debbie Harry and co. still understood how to craft great pop music so "Call Me" works quite well. Something vital would be missing from their admirable run of first rate singles if it had never been cut or if it had been made much more in line with the classics of their imperial period. Other Blondie hits feel part of a progression, from punk to new wave to disco but "Call Me" sticks out as a number out of time, with only its status as what a band at their most top-of-their-game arrogant could have the nerve to have recorded. Great song? Maybe but it's certainly the ultimate souvenir of the time.

This supposed rockier sound would be quickly abandoned as they returned to working with longtime producer Mike Chapman for the street smart Autoamerican and the singles "The Tide Is High" (lightweight but charming in its own right; it's one of the first songs I knew as a child so I've always had a soft spot for it) and "Rapture" (a great song ruined by Harry's awful rapping), their sole US number one that failed to repeat the trick in Britain. Imperial periods and dynasties all end up coming to an end: Blondie gave way to Michael Jackson, Madonna and Duran Duran while the Islanders would eventually bow out to Wayne Gretzky's Edmonton Oilers. It would be time for others to be at the top, to inspire awe, to be at a peak and to do well even when things aren't quite working out.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Paul McCartney: "Coming Up"

New wave Macca. "Coming Up" owes so much to clipped, post-punk pop-rock of the late seventies that it feels like a pastiche (a suspicion that only grows after watching the amusing video). Probably McCartney's best single since "Listen to What the Man Said", it nevertheless is a worrying indicator that he was running out of ideas of his own at this early a stage of what would turn out to be a creatively barren decade. John Lennon famously heard it as a sign that his former partner was sounding vital for the first time in ages and it prompted him to get his own muse in gear for his bittersweet return at the end of the year. It just goes to show you that they were never the same without each other, doesn't it?

McFadden & Whitehead: "Ain't No Stopping Us Now"

17 May 1979

"If it doesn't get you smiling and dancing, call a doctor immediately. You must be very poorly."

— Cliff White

One of the great things about disco is that it was open to everyone. While Studio 54 may have had a very selective bouncer, there were plenty of other clubs for patrons to flock to where they could be dancefloor superstars for a night. Proprietors, too, got to bask in a renown they wouldn't have previously enjoyed, as did DJ's. And then there are the artists who came from all kinds of backgrounds. Some were from established pop and rock acts, most famously the Bee Gees but also groups such as ABBA, ELO, Kiss and Queen. Others were funk and soul performers enjoying a commercial and creative second wind like Marvin Gaye and Smokey Robinson. Herbie Hancock was one of the jazz's foremost keyboardists before supposedly selling out with some admittedly rum four-on-the-floor beats. Donna Summer emerged as a disco superstar having spent the previous decade as a struggling singer in various genres. And then there were those who'd been on the sidelines as jobbing session musicians and staff songwriters who managed to break through.

Cliff White has noticed this trend and points to some earlier examples: Chic, Chanson, Raydio. All were made up of talented studio musicians who made the transition to forming their own groups which coincided with the disco boom. Bernard Edwards and Nile Rodgers had been young jazz players who may have been doing well creatively but who didn't have a lot to show for it in terms of earnings. Seriously considering going the punk rock route ("we always admired rock 'n' roll money," says Rodgers), they opted for disco, had some massive hits and then began producing (either in tandem or apart) Sister Sledge, Diana Ross, David Bowie and Robert Palmer. Top notch musicianship and studio savvy translated well in terms of cutting dance favourites but well-honed songwriting skills could also prove a benefit.

Gene McFadden and John Whitehead came into the Philadelphia soul scene as vocalists but emerged out of it a successful songwriting and production duo crafting hits for The O'Jays and Harold Melvin & The Bluenotes. With strong harmonies and writing, production and arranging skills learned in the Philadelphia International studios, they were in prime position to pounce on some disco success. It's easy to imagine "Ain't No Stopping Us Now" done in a Philly soul manner: dial back on the syncopated bass and replace the string section with some horns and you're in the realm of the very acts they had just been gifting hits to.

As a pair that had struggled for years, the song's sentiments could be taken as autobiographical, which renders the fact that they never had another hit something of a bitter pill. Nonetheless, it's crafted along the lines period songwriting with a hopefullness that current troubles will soon be left behind. This was the bread and butter of disco tunes. Well written and produced, it's only slightly let down by the nice vocals of McFadden & Whitehead, which lack flair. Experienced as they no doubt were in the studio, they may have been novices as stage performers. To be fair, the understated modesty kind of works with the lyrics and it would have been a distinctive quality alongside a generation of showboats but nevertheless their harmonies still seem like too much of a throwback to old school soul.

In a musical landscape so precious that a bunch of nitwits in Chicago were gearing up for the notorious Disco Demolition Night that summer at Comiskey Park, the purveyors of disco were remarkably open to all. Donna Summer, the Bee Gees and many more found a home in it and it was one that was refreshingly free of purists. The Rolling Stones took some flak on their excellent yet unlovable Some Girls album for dipping their toes in mainstream country ("Far Away Eyes") and punk ("Shattered") but didn't face too much blowback from disco types on "Miss You" (even if rock fans weren't necessarily dead chuffed). Fans weren't about to be snobs about who was cutting the latest disco hits, their only concern was how much they dug what they were dancing to. There's probably never been a period in the rock era in which a record's quality dictated how it would be received. In this type of environment even a pair of anonymous poor cousins to Gamble & Huff could thrive.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

Blondie: "Sunday Girl"

Probably the least remembered of their UK number ones (1999's "Maria" doesn't count since I'd have to be aware of it in the first place in order to remember it), "Sunday Girl" suffers from being a Blondie single in a world of many more distinctive Blondie singles. (For the love of God, even "Rapture" has Deb's ludicriously awful raps to help it stand out) Taken on its own terms, however, it's actually rather good. As White says, they've already dispensed with the disco (for the time being at any rate) and gone back to a more solidly new wave sound, though perhaps without quite the same vigour of earlier hits "Denis" and "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence, Dear". It then was back to disco with the awesome "Atomic" and they wouldn't try rocking out until the more thrilling "Call Me". Still, a fine single from Imperial Period Blondie — just don't bother with the terrible French version, proof if nothing else that singing in a second language was rapidly becoming a lost art.

Blondie: "Heart of Glass"

8 February 1979

"Surely you've heard and bought it by now? Brilliantly demonstrating why Smash Hits has dropped all the nonsense of segregating music into different categories, a 'rock' group has made what will undoubtedly turn out to be one of the best, ahem, 'disco' records of 1979".

— Cliff White

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Welcome to the one hundredth post on VER HITS! And on a Saturday too! And with a single from six years prior to where we're currently at! How very odd.

But this is no mere one off. I started off this blog with a splendid record from the middle of '81 and pointed out in the introduction a week earlier that very few prior singles were picked out for special attention the way they would be from around that point on. I acknowledged the smattering that had been chosen from previous issues but I've subsequently come to realise that there are quite a few more that passed me by. I've also been finding myself having to infer Singles of the Fortnight from time to time — even up to this past week — and it occured to me that I might as well go back and do so for those that I missed. We'll "start" in February of 1979 when Smash Hits went from monthly to fortnightly and when they ditched the "nonsense of segregating" between disco/soul and rock/pop records. And what a record to kick it all off with!

Weekly posts — currently at the beginning of June '85 — will continue on Wednesdays with these earlier pieces once a fortnight on Saturdays or Sundays. If critics state a favourite then it will be written about; otherwise, I will attempt to infer a SOTF based on how much praise it gets but it will be down to my own discretion. If you disagree then please post a comment below or find me on Twitter in order to give me the telling off I deserve.

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I wonder if the person who coined the expression "to sell out" is proud of themselves. He or she really did us all a service by giving us a term in which we could all jealously knock an artist for the crime of being successful. Well done, douchebag.

Also, are music purists content up there on their high horses? Are they pleased with themselves for bashing former favourites who had the gall to stretch out with something different?

I ought to be at the age now where I don't care about such people harping on about "selling out" and I mostly don't but I do pity them for being foolish in denying themselves great music. If a rethink results in something better than what's the point in getting all worked up about it?

Coming off a peerless run of singles — "Denis", "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence, Dear", "Picture This", "Hanging on the Telephone" — Blondie were at the peak of their powers but success at home in America continued to allude them. (Did they knock their heads together like The Beatles, T-Rex, Duran Duran, Oasis and generations of UK groups who puzzled over a similar dilemma? There's something comical about a US group wondering how to go about cracking the States) To those who weren't in the know and/or didn't care to find out, it might seem like leeching off of disco would be a perfect way to get themselves that hit they needed. But there's more to it than that.

The purists might have had more of a case had Blondie not held "Heart of Glass" back as the third single from landmark album Parallel Lines in favour of rockier numbers "Picture This" and "Hanging on the Telephone" and well after the LP had hit the shops. Doesn't seem like they had that much faith in its commercial potential, does it? (Either that or they were worried about alienating their New York CBGB's following though you'd think the millions of punters over in Britain, the rest of Europe and Down Under might have been a bigger priority) Of course, there have been plenty of instances of tracks that have been ignored as potential singles that end up busting the charts wide open ("Don't You Want Me" being a classic example) but sell outs are supposed to be far more calculating, aren't they?

And speaking of being held back, it's odd that Debbie Harry and Chris Stein would have sat on this goldmine for as long as they did. Already aware that they had something — gasp — with a beat you could get down to, they even named this mid-seventies composition "The Disco Song". An early recording features some pretty sweet (if overly busy) guitar playing but has little else to recommend it (Harry's vocal being uncharacteristically bland). So poor were its prospects that it didn't make it onto their patchy second album Plastic Letters. 

Finally, Blondie didn't exactly rush to go full-on disco once "Heart of Glass" took off. Follow-up "Sunday Girl" is a return to a rockier sound — as, indeed, is the bulk of Parallel Lines — as are the first pair of singles taken from their next LP Eat to the Beat, "Dreaming" and "Union City Blue", before going all Studio 54 with the brilliant "Atomic". As the group's popularity "became more selective" in the early eighties they only opened themselves up to more styles which they didn't always pull off well; their last swing at NY club sound being "Rapture" which have worked a lot better had it not been for Harry's awful rap "skills".

All of the above, though, is useless but for the fact that "Heart of Glass" is an astonishing piece of work that deserved to be the gigantic worldwide hit that it became. A vocal turning point for Harry, she veers between her "usual Sweet Little Sixteen" sound that Cliff White makes note of and a more mature and relaxed performance ("...in between, what I find is pleasing and I cannot hide...") which really sets up the duality of a relationship gone wrong while looking back with some fondness. It also hints that, yes, she was in her thirties by this time and there was no point in pretending otherwise. Stein's guitar parts have been dialed back in favour of some superb production pyrotechnics and a solid but simple rhythm backing.

I like to think that had I been a committed Blondie fan and was few years older than my nine months old I would have reacted in disgust at the thought of the best group in the world going disco. I might even have resisted purchasing their latest record and tried avoiding it as best as possible. But I would have succumbed eventually. How couldn't I have?

And how do purists who are so obsessed with selling out manage to resist something so wonderful? I'd rather not understand.

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Also Reviewed This Fortnight

The Pretenders: "Stop Your Sobbing"

A cover of a deep cut filler on The Kinks' debut album, The Pretenders don't have a lot to work with here but they do all right and manage to top the original. There's a callousness to the way Ray Davies sings it (something you never normally find in a Kinks record) that makes Chrissie Hynde's more understanding reading the preferred version — plus there's something about the words to a song about how you shouldn't be such a baby that sound far more effective being sung by a woman. The group also puts in some much needed post-punk muscle into the recording. They had much better material in them but you gotta start somewhere.