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Blondie's New York
Blondie's New York on the Smithsonian channel stinks but in a good way. If you can't smell, feel and remember NYC in the seventies while watching Blondie's band members stitch their 20-million selling Parallel Lines album together you weren't there. I was and I remember.
I remember the crime, grime and sense of hopelessness that seemed to have a choke hold on NYC. But the ART was amazing. In a tiny rat-hole of a bar named CBGB the Talking Heads, Ramones and Blondie was born, nurtured, taught and honed. The Smithsonian's documentary tells several stories simultaneously.
One story is the city's rotting corpse infecting the air and spirits with the thick fetid smell of death and dying. Yet despite or maybe because of the retching, queasy feel great art was made. Art that defined the city, the bands and us.
