At 51, she’s still here to remind you that she did it first and did it better, playing with the boys in her band, the Pretenders, but throwing a knowing wink at the girls.
During the early ’80s, such hits as “Middle of the Road,” “Talk of the Town” and “Back on the Chain Gang” established the group’s reputation. But things have changed. Two original members died of drug overdoses, drummer Martin Chambers left then later returned. And the music scene changed too: grunge and hip-hop, boy bands and Britney. Still, the Pretenders have never gone away. And now that Hynde’s two daughters are teenagers (yes, Chrissie Hynde is a mother), she’s ready to rock again. On “Loose Screw,” the Pretenders’ eighth album, her fierce yet achingly fragile voice glides over reggae beats and uptempo grooves. The hellcat who, to be honest, actually purrs, picked up the phone and settled in for a long afternoon’s chat from her home in England with NEWSWEEK’s Jac Chebatoris. Excerpts:
NEWSWEEK: What are you hoping to do with this record? What would you like people to know about it?
Chrissie Hynde: All the songs are like three and a half minutes, and you can move through it quickly, and that’s what I like about it. And what I’m trying to do with it? Well, nothing actually because as far as I’m concerned it’s done. I’m not the most ambitious person you’ll ever talk to, that’s for sure.
No, come on–in your own way …
My ambition is just the process of doing it, you know. I’m not trying to attract any particular audience or increase my audience. I’ve never had that “we are going to be the biggest band in the world” thing. I like keeping it nice and … I like to hover in the middle. We’ll be doing shows in theaters, and those are my favorite venues–where everyone can see and it’s kind of intimate. And that’s all I want. Frankly, I don’t expect to sell records–not just because it’s me–but people just don’t sell records anymore. People don’t buy records anymore, the world’s changed a lot. It’s not like the good old days when you waited for the album to come out, and you kept calling the record store, ‘Is it in yet? Is it in yet?’ and then you’d belt across town and put it on the seat of the car so you could look at the cover all the way home and pore over every morsel of it.
You released The Pretenders’ debut album in 1980. It is sad to see how different things are now?
The industry has changed so much. There’s so much media saturation. There was no MTV, you didn’t see [a new release] on television–which was great because it had a sort of mystery and an elitism to it. If you liked a record, it was real personal to you, and it wasn’t for everyone–it was your thing. And in my estimation, it’s all gone pretty pornographic. All the chicks look like porn stars. The world has changed. It’s not like you have to seek out media–oh, gosh, I used to go to Gray’s Drugstore in Akron [Ohio]–the one place I knew that I could get a copy of the NME [New Musical Express] years ago, and I was so excited to get that. It was weeks out of date … Now they’re practically shoving it in your letterbox everyday. You can’t get away from the s–t. There’s music channels and …
The Internet …
Talk about “Behind the Music.” It’s like you know what size underpants everyone wears. There’s no mystery, there’s no …
Romance …
Yeah, there’s not no romance, exactly–it’s become such a hard sell. There’s so much more emphasis on what sells. You always read, what’s the biggest-selling film of the week, what’s the biggest-selling record. I pity the younger generations who might mistakenly equate success with record sales. This idea of how much something sells is totally contrary to everything that rock music was always about. It was always about being the renegade and the underdog and it’s become everything that it didn’t used to be about.
So how have you kept on going? Don’t you find it discouraging, or do you turn a blind eye and just do your own thing?
It’s very discouraging actually, and I think everyone feels discouraged, you know. Artists are commodities–they’re products. It’s all McDonald’s you know, billions and billions sold. But what are they selling? They’re selling carcasses that are wrapped up in paper. It’s not haute cuisine, we’re not talking about something that’s nourishing for the mind and body and soul. We’re talking about slaughterhouse byproducts. You can sell billions of them and then people think it’s a success because that’s what they’re told.
These days the pinnacle of success for some bands is that they’re invited to Puffy’s next big party. They are getting away with playing lowest-common-denominator music for the masses. Where did the quality go, and why is it OK that it did go?
It’s like, why do people get obese by eating junk food? Because it’s there, and people get brainwashed. They don’t want to be–but that’s what happens because of this media saturation. Everyone’s pushed their kids in front of the television because they need a break. They’re struggling, so you know they’ve got a diet of junk food and junk television and junk radio. I mean how many average Americans would sit down to a bowl of brown rice and sauteed vegetables if they could have a Big Mac?
Three people in Seattle probably.
Yeah, they won’t because they’re not used to that. They’re not looking for nutrition. No one’s interested in the soul.
You’ve been pinned with so many labels–feminist icon, bad-ass rock chick, activist and mother–how would you rate those in order of what’s important to you?
I don’t know if I’m much of an activist–I’m not exactly on the front line. I’m a mother. And I think I would delete the other two. They don’t have any resonance with me.
So you’ll keep going making records the way you want to, moving ahead?
I suppose every day I think, maybe not … it’s not like I’m so driven. I don’t have any ambitions, there’s nothing else I want to do in music. I don’t want to act.
I bet you’ve been asked.
They’ve given up. I think it’s important, for me anyway, to just stick at what you’re good at and be grateful for that. Although some people are good at a lot of things. I don’t have any answers, I’m just ordinary. And being ordinary isn’t a bad thing, you know, it sure beats, you know …
Trying too hard to be extraordinary?
Yeah, and trying to call up and name drop so you can get into a trendy restaurant. Who wants to? Not me.
Think you’ll ever cut the bangs?
I would say probably not, but not because I think it looks so good, you know. I don’t want to scare myself when I look in the mirror. It’s like every morning when I get up I try on a couple different T shirts and they’re all identical and I always pick one of those. It’s called the “give up look.”
Your voice is in amazing shape. This new record could be you 20 years ago. What about the hard-livin’ rock lifestyle, the road weariness and all its effects? You lived the life, but there’s no sign of it.
I don’t overexert myself. There’s no vocal exercises or anything. You try not to smoke too much.
You’re smoking.
Uh, I try not to. But you just try to tread the middle line at all times. Stay in the middle and hope for the best.
