Dirty Harry – La Belle Angele

There are tribute bands, and then there are those which, for a couple of hours at least, manage to transport you somewhere else entirely. Tonight, Dirty Harry took me straight back to the late 1970s and early 80s, when Blondie were in their prime and Debbie Harry was quite simply one of the coolest people on the planet.

First up are The Postcards, who provide an enjoyable warm-up with a slightly more adventurous trawl through the alternative end of the 80s than your average covers band. Orange Juice’s Rip It Up, Simple Minds’ Don’t You (Forget About Me) and a welcome excursion into Echo & the Bunnymen territory all hit the spot. Their venture into The Smiths is perhaps less successful — Morrissey’s voice is a particularly dangerous one to borrow — but you can’t win them all.

Looking around La Belle Angèle, the demographic is difficult to miss. There are a lot of us here in our 50s, 60s and beyond, and perhaps Dirty Harry are offering something rather more interesting than simple musical nostalgia. For a couple of hours we are being allowed to revisit our younger selves.

And what self-respecting schoolboy of that generation didn’t have at least a bit of a crush on Debbie Harry? Parallel Lines on the turntable, perhaps that iconic face staring down from a poster on the bedroom wall. Blondie weren’t simply part of the soundtrack; Harry herself was part of growing up.

There is something psychologically fascinating about watching a roomful of people reconnect with all of that 45 years later. Perhaps it is particularly appropriate, then, that the woman facilitating this mass regression is Dr Sarah Kennedy — qualified psychiatrist by day, Debbie Harry by night. It’s quite a transformation.

Kennedy certainly looks the part: blonde wig, slight frame and, importantly, the movement. This is more than simply dressing up as Debbie Harry. She has clearly studied how Harry occupied a stage, while behind her Dirty Harry are tight, well rehearsed and surprisingly well choreographed.

There are surprises too. I come expecting the great Blondie hits, but Kennedy and the band delve considerably deeper into the back catalogue. Some songs are genuinely new to me; others have simply been lying dormant somewhere in the memory for decades. X Offender, Blondie’s first single from 1976, is one of those. I have almost forgotten it exists, yet hearing it again triggers that peculiar sensation of recognising something before quite remembering why.

Kennedy even reaches back to material associated with Blondie’s early appearances on German television, long before Parallel Lines turned them into international stars. This isn’t simply a greatest-hits tribute show. There is clearly some serious Blondie archaeology going on here. The obvious hits take us back deliberately; the forgotten songs ambush us, unexpectedly unlocking a time, a place and a younger version of ourselves.

Unfortunately, the sound desk does them few favours. The bass is overpowering and Kennedy’s microphone sounds frustratingly muddy, her vocal too often disappearing into the band.

And that matters with Blondie.

Debbie Harry’s voice had that crystal-clear quality which could slice through the music, giving even the most polished Blondie pop song its punk edge. To recreate Debbie Harry, you need that slice through the music. Tonight I can see Kennedy has the look, the movement and, as far as I can tell, the vocal — I just wish I could hear more of it.

None of this seems to bother the crowd. La Belle Angèle is bouncing. People dance, people sing and why wouldn’t they? Dirty Harry takes us through the classic Blondie songbook, with Hanging on the Telephone among those irresistible reminders of just how many great songs this band produced.

Eventually Kennedy announces Denis as the last song. Nobody believes her, of course. We all know the game, and there is absolutely no chance this crowd is going home without Atomic.

Sure enough, the ritual encore follows and the A bomb brings the house down.

By now, perhaps we’re responding to more than the songs themselves. For a little while the intervening decades have disappeared. We’re back in bedrooms with record players, posters on the walls and Parallel Lines waiting to be turned over.

Maybe that’s the real purpose of a tribute band. Not simply to recreate the artist, but to recreate the person you were when you first heard them.

Reviewer: Greg Holstead

Reviewed: 26^th September 2026

North West End UK Rating:

Running time – 2hrs