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DEBBIE HARRY – IN THE FLESH Words Stuart Coupe

T hings happen that cause you to reflect on youth, life and mortality. Like many people I was shocked by the recent death of Blondie drummer Clem Burke. Sure, rock stars pass away on what seems like every second day, but I thought a lot about this one. Why? Well, for starters, he was one of the finest and most exciting drummers I ever saw perform – a latter-day Keith Moon with the physicality and attitude that is also evident in Midnight Oil’s Rob Hirst. It also took me back to Adelaide and my time in that city as a university student and music journalist in training. It was around this time that one of the best-known photographs of me was taken. But we’ll get to that. Thanks to the championing of Ian “Molly” Meldrum and a crazily infectious song called In the Flesh – not to mention a charismatic and extremely attractive and oozing New York cool chic lead singer named Debbie Harry – Blondie had become a big thing in Australia. They were the first of the punk/new wave brigade to trouble the charts in Australia – mainly because they owed more to classic pop music than the two chord thrash of many punk bands. And they came from New York, a city that had always had a more artistic, steeped in music history approach to “punk” rock. Hence a scene that revolved around Patti Smith, Television, Talking Heads, the New York Dolls, The Dictators, Mink DeVille – and Blondie. Blondie were scheduled for an Australian tour, but a few months prior to this, Debbie Harry came to the country for promotional activities. In other words, to appear on Countdown and then do as many other media engagements as possible. She made a pit stop in Adelaide and did a press conference of sorts one morning at a pub on Hindley Street. As one of the editors of Flinders University’s magazine Empire Times , I had

the side, awkwardly resplendent with my beard, a sleeveless vest with a Sex Pistols badge pinned on it – and thongs. All style! Harry appears to be clutching a sack of potatoes – maybe it was a chic bag for her stuff. She looks fantastic in the photo – and then there’s the dag photobombing it. Thanks to social media, that photograph reappears roughly twice a year, gets hundreds of “Likes” and a barrage of, “Is that really Stuart Coupe?” and “Look at that beard – and thongs” type comments. I love the photo and never tire of seeing it. A little later, Blondie played at the Apollo Stadium. I adored it, but it seemed like I was in the minority. In the Flesh was one thing, but live Blondie were a relentless, powerful, take-no prisoners rock ’n’ roll band with a dose of pop on the side. This didn’t please many who’d come expecting to hear an hour and a half of variations on In the Flesh . Well, they sort of got that – but not at the volume and with the intensity that Blondie delivered it. I remember being mesmerised by Clem Burke’s drumming which came right out of the Keith Moon “let’s hammer this kit into oblivion” school of playing. experience of the more sordid side of the rock ’n’ roll business. Remember, I wasn’t long out of Launceston. This stuff was new to me. Outside the backstage door, young women were told by – presumably a road crew member or tour manager – to line up. This they did. Maybe 20 or so of them – and then a band representative pointed to particular women – “you”, “you”, “you”, and the anointed (in the worst possible sense) were admitted to the backstage area – presumably for the pleasure of the male band members and crew. It was uncomfortable to experience and the thought of it is still a bit disturbing. Afterwards, I hung around the backstage area and had my first

Stuart and Debbie Harry

She looks fantastic in the photo – and then there’s the dag photobombing it

the bona fides and went along. It was a sign of the times that Harry was the only woman at the press conference. Afterwards, my friend Victoria Wilkinson approached her about taking some photographs – Harry graciously consented. In one of them I’m off to

50 JUNE 2025

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