Given the Pretenders’ soap opera of a career and its role in service of Chrissie Hynde’s durable, unflagging presence at the helm, Pirate Radio is more than merely another exhaustive anthology. Rather, these songs, as grouped in chronological order over the course of four CDs, serve as signposts for the personal upheaval and sonic tremors that have steered their sound from the waning days of the post punk apocalypse to the current stage of their rebirth in the new millennium. There’s drama and anguish, loss and liberation, tragedy and triumph… all personified by arguably the most sensual and seductive multi-purpose player of her gender to ever occupy the rock ‘n’ roll firmament, Slick, Joplin and Harry notwithstanding. Sexy, seductive and wholly intimidating, Hynde is the ultimate wonder woman, a poster child for the aspiring female, a guitar-welding, dark-eyed dominatrix whose sultry, saucy croon ultimately echoes one message, and that is that she’s not about to take shit from anyone.
Anyone who doubts that pronouncement need only hear Hynde’s battle cry, her “HUUUHHHH,� that kicks off “The Wait� or the whips and chains rebuke of “Bad Boys Get Spanked� to bear that out. Indeed, the first disc and a good part of the second represent the band when they were buoyed by such great initial promise, a reckless, defiant quartet bursting with riveting and resolute rock anthems. It’s impossible to listen to the gyrating refrains of “Brass in Pocket,� “Stop You Sobbing� or “Tattooed Love Boys� and not be affected by their persistent pulse. Or to hear Hynde purring and crooning “The Adulteress,� “I Go to Sleep,� “Kid� and “Thin Line Between Love And Hate� and not feel her stealthy gaze focused so intently on her prey.
Still, Pirate Radio inadvertently spotlights diminishing returns. The band’s classic incarnation of Hynde, drummer Martin Chambers, bassist Pete Farndon and guitarist James Honeyman Scott remain, 25 years on, the definitive line-up, and the one that still sets the standard in terms of both tone and treatment. After the drug-related deaths of Farndon and Scott, cruelly, within a year of one another, Hynde and Chambers regrouped in the first of what would be a rotating roster of new recruits. Adding guitarist Robbie McIntosh on guitar (later to take over as Paul McCartney’s main foil) and bassist Malcolm Foster, with former Rockpile axeman Billy Bremner in a support role, they recorded what would be the last of a classic trilogy, Learning To Crawl, yielding signature songs “Back On The Chain Gang,� “My City Was Gone� and “Middle Of The Road.�
It was at that point, in the aftermath of tragedy, that regret and remorse were beginning to pervade the proceedings. Hynde’s downtrodden perspective comes across all too clearly in “California� (one of several heretofore unreleased tracks), “Popstar,� (“You should have just stuck with me,� she pleads) and the destitute ruin of “My City Was Gone.� How appropriate that the band should cover Neil Young’s “The Needle And The Damage Done� (an outtake from the Viva El Amor sessions), particularly considering the parallel scenario that came with the deaths of half the group’s founders.
It’s telling too that the alcohol remorse of “Tequila� (another unreleased gem) should segue so smoothly into the redemption song “2000 Miles.� That’s because, inevitably, the Pretenders are like the phoenix that returns to rise again and somehow find its wings. They may have blurred their edges after those initial masterpieces, but there’s plenty of evidence of sparks reignited further down the road. “Legalize Me,� “Lie To Me,� “Hymn To Her,� “Sense Of Purpose� and “Don’t Get Me Wrong� all capture the adrenalin and exhilaration that made Hynde and company so essential early on, and so riveting to this day. “The winning’s not what it’s all about,� Hynde sings on the set’s apt epitaph, “The Losing.� “It’s about the losing.� Whatever “it� is, they’ve always managed to get it right.
-Lee Zimmerman
Release date: March 14, 2006
