Fallen Music

The Pretenders Sire Records

REVIVALS OF INNOCENCE in the world of contemporary music, though commercially successful, are always brief. The latest, "power pop"--the fusion of the energy of new wave rock'n'roll and the syrupy friendliness of mid '60s tunes--stayed around about as long as Nehru jackets.

Instead, we're back to the jaded, controlled craftwork of the mid '70s, admittedly with a twist of new-wave perversity to keep the listener interested. The Pretenders, one-part American and three-parts British, are one of a half-dozen new bands sporting a tight, high-voltage sound but displaying little of the spontaneous vitality which gives the pop-rock genre a reason for being.

Not that the songs on their debut album--all but one written and sung by Akron, Ohio's Chrissie Hynde--lack energy. It's just that the spontaneity has disappeared, and everything seems under control. Hynde sings with an assurance only surpassed by the technically excellent guitar-work of James Honeyman "Jimmy" Scott, who comes across as the veritable voice of experience as he deals vibrating, heavy-metal chords.

The notable exception happens to be the best song of the lot. "Stop Your Sobbing," written by Ray Davies of the Kinks some 15 years ago, is oddly the album's freshest, most vital cut--perhaps Nick Lowe's production helped. Released early last year as a single, it features Hynde's versatile voice at its alluring best, and the only upbeat lyrics on the record:

It is time for you to laugh, instead of cryin'

Yes it's time for you to laugh, so keep on tryin'

There's one thing you gotta do

To make me still want you,

Yes, there's one thing you gotta know

To make me love you so,

Gotta stop sobbing..

Davies' innocence, apparently ahead of its time in 1964, sounds fresh and different today, while the music--a haunting melody backed with thumping guitar, lilting background vocals and fronted by Hynde's beguiling voice--is the most interesting of the album.

Hynde's own compositions don't fare as well. Each is built aroung a technically proficient guitar, amply provided by Scott, and her own diverse vocal emissions, usually lyrics but sometimes grunts or pants, which contrast well with the powerful guitar.

What's missing are the pop hooks which seemed so ubiquitous a mere month or two ago. Songs like "Girl of my Dreams" by Bram Tchaikovsky, "Starry Eyes" by the Records, or "Let Me Into Your Life" by the Beat may have been simple and innocent but they were fun to listen to. Hooks aren't absolutely necessary, but unless you're Eno, Ferry or Fripp their absence usually makes music unpalatable. The few songs that do have hooks, "Kid," "Tatooed Love Boys" and "Mystery Achievement," are catchy enough to be enjoyable, but not enjoyable enough to balance the irritating, tuneless quality of the rest.

HYNDE'S MESSAGE is also irritating. Self-assured and in control, this new breed of woman artist (see Martha Davis of the Motels) is loath to display any signs of vulnerability, even emotion. Instead, they offer lines like: