Seventeen years passed between Blondie's sixth and seventh albums. The eighth has taken a mere four. Even so, its protracted gestation involved record company calamities and lost tapes, hence the tongue-in-cheek title. Standard practice for the New York nonpareils, whose work with long-time cohort Craig Leon here is, despite everything, a pop masterclass from raunch-rock to reggae to boho jazz. The opener, "Shakedown", with Harry rapping of New Jersey roots and witches in ditches, is so powerful and beguiling—"signed: don't forget me, lots of love from Adrenalin"—that the tide's high the minute you dip your toe in. "Good Boys" and "Undone" are inch-perfect and sky-large. The whole thing tingles: you're in the presence of diamond-hard greatness. They make it sound easy.
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