She had eyes like the Snow Queen, eyes that could look right into your heart and turn it to solid ice. There was no comfort in her gaze, no warmth, no interest. She sang with a kind of nervy blankness, as if the lyrics meant nothing to her, and, when she narrowed her eyes, you felt as if she must hate you. She was the most beautiful woman we had ever seen. We adored her. Her name was Debbie Harry, and she sang with Blondie, the most successful New Wave band in the restless period that immediately followed punk.

We were just out of university; we'd been through punk--the pins, the rage, the gobbing, the spiky hair and the radical typography--and, in 1978, we just wanted some intelligent rock'n' roll again. Blondie came sassing into the charts and dished it up: "Denis", "Heart of Glass", "(I'm Always Touched by Your) Presence Dear", "Sunday Girl". They were real songs, with real hooks, classy keyboard runs, torrential drumming. We danced to "Dreaming". We sang along to "One Way or Another" ("I'm gonna getcha, getcha, getcha. . .") like karaoke nerds. And whenever there was half a chance, we just gazed at Debbie Harry....

Source: The Independent, February 9, 1999
 

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