From the Pretenders, Nils Bech, and Thomston
Chrissie Hynde’s new album has all the throwback charm of a 70s rock-star mullet.
The world, it seems, has caught a case of Chrissie Hynde fever.” No, those aren’t the words of NME or Rolling Stone or some other rock ’n’ roll bible, rather the snip-and-curl advice of those guardians of chic at Vogue. It turns out that the Pretenders frontwoman is the “current hair muse” for New York Fashion Week models, who are keen to emulate her trademark mullet.
Although the sultry – and, more recently, sullen – rock goddess has occasionally been spotted beside the catwalk and had her own line of ethical, environmentally friendly clothes, her new album Alone does not suggest she aspires to be a hairstyle heroine. It’s gritty and rough and – despite having the same throwback charm as a 70s rock-star mullet – has no pretensions to retro cool.
Enlisting fellow Akron, Ohio, native Dan Auerbach to wave his Black Keys’ wand and conjure the Pretenders’ power and dirt, Hynde has resurrected the old band name for what’s essentially a personal exclamation mark to last year’s ground-shaking and tabloid-baiting autobiography, Reckless.
From the opening title track via the stomping drums of Gotta Wait, the licks, riffs and swaggering speak-sing Chord Lord and the oh-so-sexy, lilting vocals wrapped around a Hammond organ line on Blue Eyed Sky, there’s more than enough justification for reclaiming the Pretenders name for the first time since 2008.
Lyrically, this project carries on from the boundary-less Reckless, the reaction to which Hynde described as “a lynching” (she was pilloried for her description of being raped). In I Hate Myself, she wraps the title’s mantra in reasons such as her “masquerade of black and blue” and “phony self-destruction”, before imagining herself heading down to hell in Let’s Get Lost, smokily suggesting love’s getting her “high just a little”. And in Death Is Not Enough, she promises she’s “the one to mellow you / break the spell that’s killing you”.
From the outset, Hynde is torn between screaming that she’s glad she’s now Alone – the last of the original Pretenders – and revealing the rock ’n’ roll, and occasionally self-loathing, lifestyle that’s left her that way. ALONE, The Pretenders (Liberator)
Pop oddity Nils Bech also enjoys exploring honesty and emotion – but instead of Hynde’s Hollywoodstyle spotlight, the Norwegian prefers the obscured claustrophobia of a Scandinavian crime drama.
His fourth outing, which deals with familiar themes of jealousy, longing and intricate relationship pitfalls, still relies on his delicate opera-trained vocals soaring around ethereal choral and orchestral arrangements. But now, his partnership with underground producer Drippin’ sets his otherworldliness against the harsh staccato of machine-gun beats, the euphoric clubland synths and rumbling, dancefloor-friendly bass. Insecurities have seldom been so beautifully beguiling.
ECHO, Nils Bech (PIAS)
Kiwi Thomas Stoneman may be only 20, but he, too, is making stunningly accessible pop that relies on emotional honesty and real artistic skill. That perfect balance of powerful songwriting, great R&B hooks and classily sparse VIPlounge beats is consistent throughout his debut, Topograph. Admittedly, most of the chart-friendly tracks are loaded at the top of the album ( Float, Headspace, Window Seat), but the rousingly earnest You’re Not a Man and the fragile closer Expiry Date are reminders that this is a launchpad for a seriously successful career. TOPOGRAPH, Thomston (Sony)