Up all night (The Records)

 

 

Blondie is still one of the best known names in the history of pop music and when I arranged to interview them, they were at the zenith of their chart-topping powers. I’d first seen them support Bruce Springsteen in 1975, but they didn’t make a massive impression on me. It was the maxi-single containing X-Offender, Rip Her to Shreds and In the Flesh which really grabbed my attention. They were floated on top of the Punk phenomenon but they were about as punk as Coco the Clown. What we had here was potentially the greatest powerpop band ever. Their first album from which the above tracks were taken didn’t fare that well, but a label switch from US owned Private Stock to UK’s Chrysalis seemed to do the trick and the next single Denis from the first official Chrysalis album Plastic Letters charted top ten and was quickly followed by I’m Always Touched by Your Presence Dear.

 

Blondie and in particular singer Deborah Harry, were the first genuine pop-phenomenon to come along since The Monkees and Top of the Pops audience figures soared, whilst they rode high on success as every red-blooded male over voting-age stayed in on Thursday night to drool over the platinum blonde.

 

It was the release of the album Parallel Lines in 1978 which really cemented Blondie’s permanent place in the pop music psyche. When I first heard the single Heart of Glass I felt It had number one smash stamped all over it and I believe I was the first person to play it on Radio 1. This  made me even more popular with the powers that be as there was an unwritten/unspoken rule that no one played an advance copy of a single, until it had been on the programme Round Table, the new-release show; but what did I care the rule was unwritten and unspoken, so I ignored it. Advance copies were normally given to radio stations a couple of weeks before a single’s actual release. The idea was that fans would hear the record on the radio and place an order or buy the record on the very first day of release hopefully ensuring that all-important high chart placing the first week of issue. Heart of Glass was an extremely clever record in that it maintained the power pop laced with a touch of Spanish Harlem feel, but also managed to incorporate a disco-synth beat which meant it would get played in the more serious clubs,

 

Blondie were doing a UK tour to promote the album and I arranged to interview Clem Burke and Deborah Harry after the Hammersmith Odeon show. For some reason I can’t remember, I didn’t go to the actual show but arranged to meet them at their hotel The Montcalm, just by Marble Arch.

 

I arrived there as arranged at 11.30 pm and was soon met by drummer Clem who explained that Deborah was exhausted and sent her apologies, but didn’t feel up to the interview. Talk about gutted!! It was disappointing from a professional point of view as everyone knew Deborah as the focal point of Blondie so I felt I was getting short change. It was even more disappointing from a personal point of view as I was definitely a red-blooded male over voting-age! We decided to do the interview in the hotel lobby, as it was extremely quiet. Clem Burke is an incredibly articulate man though and far more intelligent than your average rock drummer, so we did an interview which was very strong on content and the all important soundbites. As we were concluding I noticed Deborah crossing the floor out of my eye-corner. She waited for me to switch my Uher tape machine off and then leaned over and apologised for her no-show. She said she’d had little sleep and was extremely tired. She was also, she told me, worried that her voice would give out. We carried on chatting whilst Clem headed off for his room and a good night’s sleep; very rock and roll!!! It was pretty plain that she was very tired, but she still managed to be charming and humorous in a very laid-back fragile kind of way. She yawned several extremely sensual yawns during our conversation, which had my pulse quietly racing.

 

After about ten minutes she asked me if I knew anywhere she could get anything to eat. I told her I was sure room-service could provide. She said she had already checked and she didn’t fancy either ham or cheese sandwiches! These were the late-seventies and complete service culture hadn’t hit the UK’s capital yet; there was still very much an attitude of be thankful for what you are given, amongst the hotel trade. Even though this was the capital there was little on offer after midnight apart from a few places, so I said that I was confident she could get something in Chinatown which was only a short cab-ride away. She told me she didn’t fancy anything so spicy and did know anywhere where she could just get a decent American-style hamburger and French fries. Not such a tall order in London you may think but remember this was 1978, just three years after the first UK MacDonalds had opened and decent hamburgers were hard to find, especially after midnight. I told her of the one place I knew which was Up All Night in Fulham Road, about 15 minutes away by car at that time of night/morning. She asked me if I was hungry and did I want to tag along, so realising I hadn’t eaten all day and feeling a bit peckish I said why not. Deborah asked me to wait in the lobby whilst she organised a car. After about ten minutes Deborah came back and said are you ready? I asked her where the rest of the guys were and to my absolute startlement she told me it was just me and her. Me and her!!!! Me and the current Queen of Pop, going off to dine alone together in the early hours. Oh my god wasn’t life truly grand!!!

 

We went outside where the proverbial big black merc with tinted windows awaited and commenced the short drive to Fulham Road. Deborah didn’t speak much in the car and I made no real effort to engage her in view of her decidedly fatigued state. When we got to Up All Night, the driver parked close by in a side road. Deborah was wearing a big black coat over jeans and her eyes were covered with the trademark black Ray-Bans. I had on a pure wool drape coat with rolled lapels and fold-back cuffs in brown velvet. I was also wearing the ubiquitous tight blue jeans and brown high-heel boots. Ever so much the archetypal rock and roll couple! As we approached the door a couple of paparazzi sprang out and started snapping. Because Up All Night was one of the few places open this late these photographic parasites always hung around on the off-chance some rock celeb might show and tonight they were in luck. Deborah did the hand over the face bit but her look was so recognisable that any attempt at anonymity was futile. We went in and sat down and were seriously fussed over by the waiters who’d recognised her immediately. The paparazzi kept on snapping through the window but soon got what they needed and went back to lurking in the shadows. All the patrons of the restaurant kept staring at us rather indiscreetly. Obviously they knew who she was but they were probably wondering who the guy was sitting opposite her, as her relationship with Blondie member Chris Stein had been heavily publicized and Chris and I weren’t exactly identical twins.

 

After a couple of coffees Deborah became a lot more lively and we got on very well, her telling me what it was like living in New York (she said she kept trying to remember as she rarely got back there anymore!!!) and I telling her about the nuances of living in London. She said she would love to go places like Camden Town’s Dingwall’s, but it was really not possible because she would just get hassled all night. We stayed there for an hour or so and then decided to leave. The paparazzi emerged for one last splurge and we headed off back to The Montcalm. Deborah, mindful of the hour, very kindly instructed the driver to take me home. As she decamped at Marble Arch she leaned in and gave me a peck on the cheek and said she’s had a nice time. To this day I still occasionally touch that place in wonderment!

 

When I got to work the next day I was amazed to discover, when a couple of people drew my attention to the tabloids, that there were a couple of pieces about Debbie Harry being seen on the town with mystery man and partner Chris Stein nowhere in sight!!! I wanted to scream from the rooftops that I was that mystery man but discretion got the better of me and I just went into an aw-shucks there’s nothing in it mode, when anyone else mentioned the story. Of course I wanted them to think that there was everything in it!!!!!

 

After the success of Parallel lines and subsequent records, Blondie became a household name but as most bands do, they started to develop internal difficulties and began to implode. In 1981 Debbie released a solo album Koo Koo in a blaze of publicity. It was produced by Chic main-man and old acquaintance of mine, Nile Rodgers and it promised an entirely different experience to Blondie. Far more dance orientated than the Blondie canon, the album cast Ms Harry in the role of ultra-chic disco diva, pre-dating Madonna by at least a couple of years. A massive UK launch for the album was arranged at The Sanctuary health club in Covent Garden. Obviously I was looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with Deborah but I was also intrigued that normally The Sanctuary was a women-only venue and I was eagerly anticipating glimpsing inside this upmarket ladies’ version of the Fortress of Solitude.

 

The night of the launch came and I arrived to find a lot of familiar faces there. I think my friend Denis Hegarty then of the group Darts was there. I think also present was drummer John Bradbury and a couple of other Specials. The Chrysalis promotional staff were there too including Chris Peters whom I’d known from my days in Radio 1 and I think Phil Long. I am pretty sure that Chrysalis regional promotions person Chris Griffin wasn’t there, although I may be wrong on that one. There was a lavish buffet of fresh crabs, lobsters, king prawns and oysters on display, as well as a selection of exotic salads. I say on display and I mean on display because I could see no evidence of hammers or anything with which to tackle the food, but they would probably bring all that on later.

 

I moved into the inner sanctuary and it was pretty hot and steamy but the champagne was flowing so who cared. I looked to see if I could spot Deborah anywhere but she was nowhere in sight. No doubt she would turn up later too. Perhaps she was bringing the lobster hammers!!!

 

We all did the things you do at such receptions as in drink a lot. We would have eaten a lot too but the seafood was still an impenetrable fortress! It was getting hotter and steamier as more people arrived so as you may expect, a lot of people were stripping down to their shirts etc. and some were perspiring a lot more than others. The most significant perspiree was promotions man Chris Peters, also known as The Perennial Student, the reasons for which I never discovered. The cause of Chris’s excessive sweating was mainly to do with an excess of alcohol compounded by the fact that he was gyrating around the dance-floor like a hybrid of Norman Wisdom and Mr Bean, in an effort to impress his dancing partner whom it has to be said, looked singularly unimpressed. Chris’s courtship dance was the main source of amusement, especially as he seemed completely unaware that all eyes were on him. It was now well over an hour into proceedings and still no sign of Deborah. We were all wondering hat the hell was going on as it was extremely unusual to have a reception for an artiste and for that artiste not to be there. All of a sudden a deep hush went around the venue and a spotlight shone against a small archway at the top end of the club. From this archway emerged Ms Deborah ‘Koo-Koo’ Harry bedecked in something resembling a white wedding-dress, an electric-green beehive and some of the highest stilettos I have ever seen. All the press photographers present began clicking away like their lives depended on it. Obviously worried about falling off her heels, she was physically supported by partner Chris Stein as she commenced a ‘walk of honour’, shutters still clicking, before disappearing through another arch at the bottom of the club. And that my friends, was that; we saw neither hair nor hide of Ms Harry or Chris Stein for the rest of the evening.

 

I was shocked more than disappointed at the nature of the failure to renew my acquaintance but that’s rock and roll and just like everyone else, I just got on with enjoying myself. A few of us, including Brad from The Specials decided it would be a bit of a wheeze to play a practical joke on Chris Peters who was still strutting his stuff on the dance-floor and still spouting rivers of sweat whenever he shook his Mr Bean head. We managed to procure one of the dustbins which had been used to chill bottles of lager. The lager had all gone but there was still plenty of ice left. We crept up behind the limboing Mr Peters and tipped the entire contents over his head. All credit to him, after the initial shock wore off he simply gave himself a shake and carried on his idiot-dancing without protest, which must have been quite difficult when you are head to toe soaked to the skin!

 

As the alcohol was beginning to take more of an effect I remembered I still hadn’t eaten, so I went back out to the reception area in order to get stuck into the seafood. I was amazed to find that there was still no way of opening the crabs, oysters and lobsters and the servers admitted they had not brought anything apart from standard cutlery and lemons with them. All that had gone from the display were the king prawns, which had looked a bit jaded in the first place. I spoke to their so-called manager and asked where the scissors and hammers and picks were and he just more or less shrugged his shoulders. Then it dawned on me!!! I quickly got hold of Chris Poole from Chrysalis and told him that I suspected the caterers were scamming them. They hadn’t brought any of the tools needed to eat the food, because they hadn’t wanted anyone to eat the food! It was odds-on that they had imagined no one would work this out, as they’d all be horrendously drunk and they could then flog the whole lot to a local restaurant, meaning that they got paid twice for the food! Chris smiled in complicity as the penny dropped and I’m pretty sure it was Phil Long who went and asked the caterers if they had any carrier bags. They quickly obliged and he began stuffing various crustaceans into the bags and handing them out to the guests. The catering manager came rushing over and protested to Phil, saying that it said in their contract that any food not eaten was theirs to dispose of as they wished. Phil advised him that in that case he should sue Chrysalis and continued packing up lobsters and crabs. I finally spilled out onto the early morning streets of Covent Garden with a haul about four lobsters, three crabs and two dozen oysters! Scant compensation for Debbie’s second effective no-show where I was concerned, but not bad in the great scheme of things. I got some very strange looks, as I made my way down Long Acre and Old Compton Street looking for a cab. There were claws and tentacles spilling out everywhere, but did I worry? Nah!

Up All Night was from the album Shades in Bed by The Records who were another great powerpop outfit who sadly shared little of the success Blondie enjoyed. Founded by Kuraal Flyers drummer Will Birch they turned out side after side of polished, punchy pop but after a couple of lower top thirty hits rather underservedly faded into oblivion.