Panic Of Girls
Mediocre effort from new wave legends.
Paul Nolan, 10 Aug 2011
Had Blondie delayed their 1999 reunion by ten years they could have really cleaned up; those were the days before the festival circuit became such a lucrative merry-go-round for veteran acts. As it was, in ’99 the band released the album No Exit, which, frankly, was a damn better record than it had any right to be, and even spawned a UK No. 1 single courtesy of the wonderful ‘Maria’.
The band followed it up with 2003’s The Curse Of Blondie, which, though well received critically, enjoyed considerably less commercial success. In the eight years since, Blondie have played some terrific live shows – including a cracking gig at Vicar St. in the summer of ’08 – but they’ve released no new albums. If Blondie felt old in 2003, they must really feel old in 2011; yet another generation of bands has come and gone, and we’ve also seen the advent of one or two reasonably successful websites, such as YouTube, Twitter and Facebook.
All things considered, you have to wonder if Blondie – fronted, as ever, by the iconic Deborah Harry – are ideally placed to scale the lofty heights of Parallel Lines, an all-time classic album. The answer, unsurprisingly, is no, although the band do remain capable of conjuring the odd moment of magic.
The first half of Panic Of Girls (bit of a dud title, to be honest) is nothing to write home about; the likes of ‘D-Day’, ‘What I Heard’, ‘Mother’ and ‘Love Doesn’t Frighten Me’ are decent pop-rock tunes, but unlikely to have you leaping out of your seat with excitement. Indeed, the album is only saved from slipping into outright dreariness by two cover versions, one a terrific take on Sophia George’s reggae tune ‘Girlie Girlie’ (which features Debbie singing in Jamaican patois – incredibly it works), the other an unexpectedly ace, dream-pop take on Beirut’s ‘Sunday Smile’.
There is a marked improvement in the second half of Panic Of Girls, most notably on the infectious dance pop tune ‘Wipe Off My Sweat’, which boasts hissing hi-hats and funky rhythms a go-go, and the plaintive Gallic waltz ‘Le Bleu’, which finds Debs in chanteuse mode, and even singing the lyrics in French. Does the album have a tune as good as ‘Heart Of Glass’? Definitely not. But then I suppose few albums do.
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