I know I already addressed it in this post, but I have to share a few more words about the passing of Clem Burke, and so hot on the heels of the deaths of folks like Al Barile of SSD, Dave Allen of Gang of Four/Shriekback, Brian James of The Damned, Rick Buckler of The Jam and David Johansen of The New York Dolls. We’re only a quarter into it, and 2025 has already been pretty catastrophic for all things Punk Rock.
I first heard Blondie, along with so many other crucial bits of music, via an older sibling. My sister Victoria brought home a copy of Parallel Lines at some point in 1978 – inarguably prompted by its inclusion of “Heart of Glass” -- and it was yet another epiphany. Our first tastes of proper Punk Rock had landed a summer earlier, courtesy of a big box of promo LPs our father had sent us from London. That pacakge included the first Clash album and Pure Mania by The Vibrators, but Parallel Lines seemed like planets away from that sort of sound.
Between the sleek, unabashed disco of “Heart of Glass” to the nervy, more conventionally punky numbers like “Hanging on the Telephone” and “One Way or Another” to the sparking pop of “Sunday Girl,” Parallel Lines was really a tour de force, and we both ate it right up. I was already immersed in fandom for the Sex Pistols, The Ramones, Devo and Adam & The Antz, but, in later months, it would be Victoria who brought home further informative records like the first album by The B-52’s, Outlandos D’Amour by The Police, and New Clear Days by The Vapors, all gradually weaning me away from stodgy old standbys like KISS, Boston and Pink Floyd. An older sibling who shares music with you is the best type of sibling to have.
For any number of deeply stupid reasons, lots of folks wrote off Blondie as also-rans from the CBGB scene, largely thanks to their -- shock, horror -- major label success with "Heart of Glass," negating their chops as a bona fide rock band, let alone proper PUNKS. But spend even thirty seconds watching/hearing Clem Burke smack the shit out of those drums (while still looking untouchably cool), and that's all some moot, misguided bullshit. Blondie fucking rocked, and Clem Burke was their propulsive engine room. Respect is due!
Shot in 2018, here’s a great little mini doc about Clem, featuring loads of archival footage of Blondie and the New York City of his era. It’s very well done and worth your time.
Rest in peace, Clem.
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