The Pretenders @ First Avenue

(photo courtesy of Barb Schramm)

Let’s get this out of the way first: I was just one year old when “Back on the Chain Gang” was first released. This might automatically disqualify me from reviewing a Pretenders’ show with any sort of real authority. But in my defense, I offer this story: around the time I turned 15, Chrissie Hynde played live on one of those polished, pretentious VH1 concert specials. Every other “legendary performer” on stage had perfect makeup, close-up worthy smiles, and total awareness of the cameras in their faces. On the other hand Hynde squeezed her eyes shut, shook sweat all over the lens, and screamed her lungs out with mascara running in two black rivers down her cheeks. That was enough for me; within the next year I’d learned the band’s entire catalog. Needless to say, the chance to see them play live after so many years wasn’t something I could pass up.

(photo courtesy of Barb Schramm)

Judging from the sold-out, enthusiastic, multi-age crowd at First Avenue on Friday night, I’m not alone in any of these sentiments. The approval (or lack thereof) of a crowd can make or break a show, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve experienced an audience so excited with anticipation for a performance. Luckily for all of us, the band delivered. Walking a fine line between their early punk rock roots and the almost casual, rockabilly-style blues of 2008′s Break Up the Concrete, they pulled off a tight show that made the 95 minutes (plus encore) fly past like nothing.

Hynde may have been wearing the requisite knee-high boots, but in terms of attitude, she was in Honor Student spirits, thanking the crowd between every other song and keeping the strutting to a minimum. But what the band didn’t deliver in posturing, they more than made up for in the music. At age 57, Hynde’s voice is startlingly strong, exuberant, and toned. Her unique vocals have always been the best part about listening to the Pretenders, and it’s nice to know she’s still got the pipes (as well as the bangs). The cohesiveness of the band, which included founding Pretenders drummer Martin Chambers and Minneapolis native Eric Heywood, offered a perfect amount of energy and support. Chambers, who didn’t appear on the latest album but is along for this particular tour, is a much under-rated drummer in rock and roll and showed his skill and panache in the way drummers do best—he held the songs together from the inside. Never overly complex but sometimes maddeningly catchy, when at their best the Pretenders sound like nothing less than the Pretenders, and having Chambers and Hynde together again onstage helped solidify that impression.

(photo courtesy of Barb Schramm)

The band slid seamlessly from old numbers to new ones, mixing equal parts “Brass in Pocket” and “Rosalee.” Incidentally, as can happen at shows like this where the crowd becomes impatient while waiting for the familiar oldies, there’s a palpable energy drop that occurs when new songs are played. That wasn’t the case here because the new material can hold its own—the brain-bustingly beautiful “The Last Ride,” in particular, got one of the night’s biggest roars of approval.

I’m not sure anyone in the crowd knew what to expect. It’s always difficult to tell what’ll happen when groups make any sort of a comeback, and what’s more, the Pretenders have always been a band that’s a bit different every time you turn around. Over 30 years, a variety of line-up changes, and endless controversy (not to mention nine studio albums), it’s difficult to imagine beforehand what you’re going to hear when they get onstage. Going in with that level of uncertainty and being rewarded by a tight, sassy, intelligent performance is just about all I could have asked for, and Hynde and company pulled it off Friday evening in a way that surpassed expectations.

(photo courtesy of Barb Schramm)

When I go to review a concert, I always take along a little notebook to scribble notes so that I can write the review the next day. I usually manage to get something helpful down, but on Friday, after I emerged from the venue and stopped under a streetlight to see what I’d written, I found exactly two words scrawled across one page, “FUCKING ROCKS.” That probably destroys my credibility all over again, and offers evidence of a few gin and tonics, but it also sums up the show for me.

[Review by guest contributor Brenda Paro]

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Also: The Pretenders on the Late Show with David Letterman