Recently, an Andy Warhol portrait of Debbie Harry sold for $5.9 million in a New York auction house. His cans of Campbell's soup may have gone for more but it was another reminder of how iconic, important, influential, and damned good Blondie once were. When they reformed in 1997 and hit No 1 with Maria it was a moment of nostalgic joy and the 2003 album The Curse of Blondie justified the New Yorkers as an-going concern. Shame then that this return to the frayed pop fray finds them sinking into a mire of self-parody. First the good - D Day is a guitar cracker with something to say about the modern music industry (“this ain’t no dot.com this is a dot.con), Mother hits you with a great chorus, and Words in My Mouth finds Harry, at 65, sounding predatory and sexy. The bad, however, far out weights all that - The End The End is a another tired reversion to white reggae and a cover of the reggae classic Girlie Girlie finds Harry having a stab at a slightly embarrassing Jamaican patois. But nothing can prepare you for the horrors of the accordion waltz La Bleu. Nobody could have expected Parallel Lines but this is terrible. Could it be down to the fact that Blondie linchpin Jimmy Destri was meant to take part but didn’t?

Alan Corr