More than just a great Pretender

Chrissie Hynde is still the same gobby, glamorous, cutting-edge rock star she was when she first burst on the scene in the 1970s…

Chrissie Hynde is still the same gobby, glamorous, cutting-edge rock star she was when she first burst on the scene in the 1970s, writes a charmed TONY-CLAYTON LEA

‘PEOPLE DON’T WALK up to me in the street and say, ‘hey, you’re a rock chick, so how can I pay attention to stuff like that?’ It’s an important discipline when you do a job like mine – if you can call it a job – not to look at your press. I don’t care whether they call me rock chick or rock crone, I’m just glad I’m still breathing, still glad I’m doing my thing.” And so say all of us. The Pretenders’ lead singer and always obvious focal point, Chrissie Hynde, might no longer be as much of a presence in the charts these days, but she remains something of a touchstone for any woman who wears a beaten-up leather jacket, their fringe hair just so, and who dreams of being a rock singer. The fact is, when Hynde came on to the music scene in London in the mid-1970s – a former hippie from Akron, Ohio, with a background in music journalism and a propensity for hanging around musicians of the male persuasion – she pretty much broke the mould and threw away the pieces. Thin? Like a whippet. Gobby? Definitely. Sexy? Undoubtedly. Talented? No question.

Could she sing? Could she ever.

She was older than the many punk-rock people that overran the scene, though, and it was this – coupled with the knowledge that she was a blow-in from the US and had an attitude that could kickstart a Sherman tank – that nudged her into the spotlight ahead of her shrinking violet UK counterparts, such as Poly Styrene and Gaye Advert. In the UK punk-rock-chic/punk-rock-chick glamour stakes, only Siouxsie (of The Banshees) could lay claim to being close to Hynde. The remainder? Just wallflowers.

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"The punk scene in the UK then," recalls Hynde in an interview conducted solely to promote the forthcoming Pretenders album, Break Up the Concrete, "was a small scene and it was just as much fun as it looked. But, you know, I don't look back much." At 57, the generally reclusive Hynde has long since given up the rock-star game. Her post-punk days involved marriage to two rock stars from different generations – The Kinks' Ray Davies and Simple Minds' Jim Kerr – but she relinquished all notions of fame or notoriety to take an extended break from rock music in order to raise her children.

“They always came first,” she affirms. “I was making records in the background and I didn’t tour for some time, but that was a while ago. Now they’re fully grown adults. When they were older children – when I went back into music more – I put them into a private school. Another reason why I took so much time off is because I’m not very ambitious – and besides, I laugh my ass off with those kids. The whole nature of being in a rock band is that you’re having fun, so why not have that with your kids? Plus, I didn’t think the world was going to miss me, or, indeed, that me being around would actually make any difference.

“The thing is, I’m not in any hurry – never have been. Getting older has never been a problem for me. I don’t feel a sense of, you know, that it’s all over for me just because I’m the age I am. That said, though, I also never thought I’d stay in the game for so long. Things have changed for sure – rock music used to be a young man’s thing. When I started listening to rock music in my teens – to the likes of The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, The Kinks, The Who, Moby Grape – if a guy was, say, 25, he was deemed to be old. Now, it’s all the old timers that are playing stadiums. I don’t want to play stadiums, however; I like to keep it very personal and small. Just enough to get by – small bank jobs instead of big heists.”

THE OLD GUYS– and by this Hynde means the likes of Bob Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Neil Young, Lou Reed, et al – are the ones who can sell out large venues due to a significant and often compelling mixture of back-catalogue pulling power, a degree of self-mythologising, a shimmering sense of actual artistic worth, and a hardcore, faithful fanbase that can, occasionally, indiscriminately forgive and forget.

“I appreciate that they would play those venues,” avers Hynde, “because you can’t play small clubs unless you have a few years to spend. I forgive them for playing in those places, but in some ways it set a weird precedent for younger bands, in that they thought the big venues were what it was all about. If you listen to a recording of Dylan playing in a club in 1964, which I did recently, with just him and a guitar, it would leave you speechless. I saw him a couple of weeks ago, and it was also great, although he doesn’t seem to do any talking in his shows, and I think that kind of personal touch goes a long way. I’m always disappointed with any artist if they have nothing to say to the audience, because I’m sitting there thinking, gosh, they must talk more than that during their own soundchecks and rehearsals. What’s wrong? Is it my jacket?”

Over the years, between her divorces from Davies and Kerr, her parental duties and her commitments in campaigning for animal rights and environmental issues, Hynde has been rigorous about keeping her public and private life distinct and separate.

“I’m not sure if there’s any difference between my privacy and my profile, to be honest. I always dress the same, get my hair cut the same. I have my London bus card, and if people recognise me they don’t say anything. Or perhaps they’re just not impressed enough to say anything. Maybe they think: ‘Why would she be on a bus?’ Frankly, because I’ve been doing this for so long most people wouldn’t know who I am because they’re young. My anonymity, if you want to call it that, or rather the freedom to do ordinary things, is the difference between being in jail and being out of jail. And it’s beyond me why people would in any way relinquish those rights to go walking through Regent’s Park, or link arms with your mates down Oxford Street.

“If you’re a household name then it’s game over – you just stay in your house. Do you really want the paparazzi around? It’s how you want to play your life, and ultimately people have a choice. I always remember those pictures of Christina Onassis, when she looked so unhappy – she didn’t want to be in the limelight. So I made a conscious effort that my kids wouldn’t be in the public eye at all. As for me, unless I’m centre of stage during a gig, then I don’t want to be in the limelight, either.”

And so Hynde continues on her seriously no-nonsense way, mindful of her place in the annals of rock music as a woman who was as much a role model for aspiring female rock stars as single mothers. The new album might not reach the same giddy rock/pop heights of previous material (not to worry about that, as it comes packaged with a superlative Best of), but Hynde soldiers on regardless. She bears all the hallmarks of a true survivor, a female rock star who traded on nothing but her innate pop/rock sensibilities and a style that hasn’t been interfered with in more than 30 years.

“Jeans is the world I live in,” explains Hynde. “If I’m going to a party or something I make an effort – I put on a nice jacket and a pair of Stella McCartney high-heeled boots. As for not changing styles, well, it’s a rock thing, isn’t it? Keith Richards hasn’t changed, and neither has the likes of Neil Young or Jeff Beck. Maybe in the rock world, there’s a vagabond sensibility in relation to clothes.

“Being a woman, yes, of course I Iove buying clothes, I love boots and stuff, but it’s not – well, I can’t say it isn’t important to me, but the idea of me wearing a push-up bra, lipgloss and a little frock is just wrong.”

Break the Concrete/Best of

is out on Warners/Rhino on May 29th

The Pretenders perform in Ireland this summer