Pretenders

1978 was a crucial year for women in rock. Patti Smith, who three years earlier had lit the fuse that would go on to trigger the explosion of punk and new wave, cracked the UK top 10 for the first time with what remains to this day her best-known song, "Because The Night". An even bigger success came for Debbie Harry's Blondie, who within six months – thanks to the release of albums like "Plastic Letters" and "Parallel Lines" – broke through into the mainstream. Also in '78 came two other key British punk records: "Germfree Adolescents", the rallying cry of Poly Styrene, the unmistakable voice of X-Ray Spex, and "The Scream", the breathtaking debut of Siouxsie Sioux and her Banshees, a record that would help open the doors to the coming goth era. It was a scene, then, that encouraged other aspiring female punk rockers to muscle in on rock's boys' club.

And yet a charismatic American woman, who had moved to Albion's shores a few years earlier in search of fortune, despite having just the right dose of nerve needed not to be intimidated by such fierce competition, had by now almost resigned herself to the idea that she'd remain stuck in London's crowded musical underbrush for the rest of her life. Chrissie Hynde's earlier attempts to break through had all proven to be flops, and so the former Akron, Ohio college student – briefly even a journalist for the New Musical Express – was still desperately searching for a band to build around herself. And this despite having watched the English punk scene being born from a privileged vantage point (as a shop assistant at the legendary SEX boutique, run by Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood), rubbing shoulders with the scene's most prominent figures and even earning the dislike of some of them (anyone say Johnny Rotten?). Increasingly dejected and frustrated, Hynde couldn't find peace: "How come everyone has a band except me?" she kept asking herself, without ever finding an answer.

But it was in that very year, 1978, that things would begin taking a very different turn for her. A few providential encounters with notable figures proved decisive. The first was with Lemmy Kilmister, who helped Chrissie put together a new band, recruiting drummer Martin Chambers and bassist Pete Farndon for her. They would later be joined by the talented guitarist James Honeyman-Scott, a man who preferred Rockpile's power-pop to punk and wasn't ashamed to admit he also listened to ABBA and the Beach Boys. It was the late Jimmy who would draw out Hynde's sweeter, more melodic side, perfectly captured on the debut single by the newly formed Pretenders: "Stop Your Sobbing", a cover of an old Kinks song (curiously, a year later Chrissie would embark on a stormy relationship with the very author of that song, Ray Davies).

Produced by Nick Lowe, a kind of surrogate father figure for the band, "Stop Your Sobbing" immediately became a radio hit, much to the dismay of Hynde's friends, disgusted by a turn they considered far too soft. The next two singles, "Kid" and "Brass In Pocket", followed the same path, confirming the Pretenders' melodic grace and winning them a formidable new admirer: Sir Paul McCartney. If "Kid" shows off Chrissie Hynde's gift for distilling the essence of a certain strand of the Sixties and translating it into a modern idiom, "Brass In Pocket" – which hit number 1 in the UK and the top 20 in the US – is a genuine statement of intent, with that "I'm Special/So Special" delivered with total conviction in the chorus.

With credentials of this caliber as their calling card, the Pretenders could walk into the studio with all the self-awareness and confidence needed to make their debut album. Fortunately, breaking from that irritating habit so fashionable in 1970s England, they decided to include all three previously released singles on their first record. That doesn't mean, however, that the Pretenders considered the rest of their material any less worthy than those hit songs – quite the opposite. Side one of the record, thoroughly aggressive and never letting up for a second, makes clear that those three lead singles were almost a bit of a decoy, useful for winning over a wider audience, one perhaps less accustomed to the nervy rhythms that define the first six tracks of "Pretenders". The album kicks off explosively with the fiery "Precious", which reaches its climax with that "Precious, fuck off!" delivered with total nonchalance by Hynde, forcing every female singer who came after her (Madonna chief among them) to take notes. The following songs move along similar lines, just as explosive and combustible, as frenetic as a strung-out Lou Reed ("Tattooed Love Boys"), enriched by the quick power chords and jagged riffs (punctuated by Hynde's gasps, as on the tremendous "The Wait") courtesy of Honeyman-Scott, an absolute star turn also on the electrifying "The Phone Call" and the instrumental "Space Invader".

Hynde's versatile approach to the microphone naturally couldn't go unnoticed: she seems to embody different personalities within the same album, as if the restless singer were combining two or more opposites at once. Fitting, in this respect, is the description given by NME journalist Julie Burchill, who called her "an unlikely combination of John Wayne and Cleopatra". This dual side of her personality comes through strongly on "Up The Neck", with Chrissie shifting from cutting to tender from one verse to the next, throughout the whole song.

The second half of the record, tellingly opened by "Stop Your Sobbing" itself, so crucial to the band's fortunes, is by contrast far calmer and more relaxed, though no less compelling for it. Here too are the other two already-familiar singles, "Kid" and "Brass In Pocket". But what most captivates and strikes the listener are songs like the sophisticated "Private Life" (a romantic, venomous farewell set to a dub-and-reggae groove) and the elegant ballad "Lovers Of Today". Finally, "Mystery Achievement" recaptures the energy of the opening tracks, closing out in style a record that is essentially flawless, one that also performed brilliantly on the charts, debuting straight at number 1 in the UK and reaching number 9 in the US.

The cover photo is also spot on, picturing all four band members, a fairly common trend on new wave records of the era (examples of the kind are countless). What's new here is that the Pretenders play at being "tough", striking caricatured biker poses and sporting a perfectly distinctive look. From drummer Martin Chambers' long sideburns to bassist Pete Farndon's bold rockabilly quiff, all the way to shy guitarist James Honeyman-Scott, who seems to hide his face behind sunglasses. And at the center is her, Chrissie Hynde, sullen as ever, heavy black eye makeup, signature fringe, red leather jacket, an attitude both masculine and sensual. A cover that, in its simplicity, succeeds in capturing the band's personality.

The Pretenders would capitalize on this favorable momentum by releasing another album shortly after, simply titled "Pretenders II", which replicated the style of the debut, albeit with a touch less inspiration. Then a series of tragic events (such as the untimely deaths of James Honeyman-Scott and Pete Farndon, both victims of drug abuse) would undermine the band's future, leaving Hynde essentially on her own. The tenacious Chrissie would nonetheless manage to pick herself back up, and the new Pretenders line-up would extend their run of success throughout the entire Eighties, with two more records, the excellent "Learning To Crawl" and the more lackluster "Get Close". The latter would mark the beginning of the artistic decline of a band that had, regardless, already branded its name into rock history with a stunning debut album, one of the finest records released in the banner year of 1980.

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06/11/2016