Debbie Harry's 'Rockbird,' her first album since the 1982 Blondie LP The Hunter, is pretty much an all-frills affair, a gussied-up confection with very little at its core. On the bright side, Harry's vocals – a distinctive merger of yearning, iciness and irony – are as seductive as her finest outings with Blondie. Producer Seth Justman (a former key member of the J. Geils Band) creates perfect contemporary settings for Harry, devising hip, jagged arrangements that catch the edges of her singing without injuring her pop appeal. And the host of demistar players on the LP – including Justman himself, guitarist Jimmy Ripp, Geils harp man Magic Dick, the Uptown Horns, drummer Yogi Horton and keyboardist Phil Ashley – turn in razor-sharp performances on command.

These pleasures, however, seem an almost heroic achievement, because they come in the service of a deeply uninspired set of songs, all but one of which were co-written by Harry. Harry has apparently emerged from her four-year hiatus – during which she nursed her desperately ill boyfriend, Chris Stein, back to health – without very much on her mind. As Blondie's icon and front girl, Harry served up a best-of-the-Seventies blend of punk insouciance, girl-group trash appeal and cool disco sophistication. Rockbird, Harry's second solo LP, demonstrates that she has divined no comparable formula for the Eighties.

Sex is about as close as Harry comes to a subject on Rockbird, and only sporadically does she bring anything as compelling or clever as the no-nonsense lust of "Call Me" (the Blondie theme from American Gigolo), the humorously blank lamentation of "Heart of Glass" or the cartoon cattiness of "Rip Her to Shreads" to bear on it. Despite a sizzling harmonica solo by Magic Dick and staccato sax blazing by James White, Rockbird's opening cut, "I Want You," says all it has to say in its title. The punchy "You Got Me in Trouble," with its tedious teasing and coyness, features Harry in the unflattering role of Grandma Madonna. Only the ballad "Free to Fall," about the frightening vertigo of falling in love too hard, and the dreamily erotic "French Kissin" get past cliché to feeling or fun.

Rockbird does reestablish Debbie Harry as a welcome presence on the scene, even if it never gains full flight. Next time she leaves the aviary, let's hope Harry has a sense of purpose – beyond winging it just to make a record. (RS 492)

ANTHONY DECURTIS