And by "that dance," I don't mean THE ELECTRIC SLIDE or THE CHICKEN DANCE. I mean, the "Oprah Winfrey Awkwardly Gyrating Like A Sub-Par Molly Ringwold As She Watches Her Special Musical Guest While Standing In The Middle Of Her Studio Audience" dance.
Yeah, "that dance." Danced by "that aunt."
Well, put that on stage in the True Colors Tour, mix in a little gin and the after-effects of way too much cocaine snorted in various bathroom stalls at CBGB's in the 80's and you've got the one, the only...
Notice it's not "Debbie Harry." She's pulling a "Deborah Gibson" on us, ya'll.
I know Ms. Harry and Ms. Gibson changed their names to appear more mature, but the former Mrs. Eddie Fisher never changed her name to "Deborah" and if you ask me, Debbie Reynolds has more talent in her little pinky than those two 80's Debbies have got in their both of their thumbs - - put together!
Case in point: At the True Colors Tour date here in Chicago this past Tuesday, Ms. Harry's singing was nice (not good, not bad, just nice), but her stage presence was uber-bizarre.
Not only did she kick off both of her sparkly silver high heel shoes about two songs into her set, she then asked who in the audience wore a size 9 and tossed one shoe to one fag in the audience and the other show to another fag.
I don't know what came over me (jealousy?, envy?, bad taste?), but I immediately screamed...
"I want the belt!"
Yes, it was a tacky, silver chain belt that I could easily purchase at any Claire's Boutique in the suburbs, but damn it, if I couldn't have the shoes, I at least wanted something from the "Blondie Bedazzler Collection."
But I didn't get the belt. Debbie needed it. She needed to be covered in shiny sparklies to keep the audience from falling asleep. Her song set was like organic Ambien.
Debbie only sang new material, mostly songs from her yet-to-be released new cd entitled...
Some of the music was good but the new songs really didn't grab the audience at all. And Debbie either has either been extremely busy since she cut the album or she doesn't really give a rat's ass about the music because she - - and this is no joke - - she READ THE LYRICS OFF A PROMPTER DOWNSTAGE CENTER.
It was VERY Sinatra: The Final Five Years.
The monitor was cleverly positioned and Debbie tried in vain to act like she WASN'T reading the lyrics, but from my front row seat, I could easily see the prompter.
Yep folks, it was Debbie Harry Karaoke. Or as I call it, "Harry-oke."
All in all, it was an odd performance best described by Bea on her blog...
"girl wern't looking too great last night... her heart of glass has turned into eyes of glass..."
Love that Bea. Love her.