The Pursuit of Chrissie

Part One: Jumping on the Bed

During the summer before my junior year of high school, a new Cable TV station called “MTV” launched. The channel must have been well promoted because it was with great anticipation that I stood in front of the TV to watch it. Although there was talk that watching a song might ruin the experience, that was not my perception as a 15 year-old. I was absolutely mesmerized. 

When I was younger, I considered music as it was connected to teenage heartthrobs. I had my David Cassidy phase. Then Shaun Cassidy. Andy Gibb stole my heart and ears, and his music introduced me to his older brothers, The Bee Gees. I loved the music, but it was tied to my hormones and curiosities about boys and men old enough to have facial hair. Somewhere along the way, though, I became a fervent listener of KLBJ-FM in Austin. I wasn’t going to hear the Bee Gees on KLBJ, and listening to KLBJ night after night honed my tastes into appreciation of more straightforward rock and roll. The first concert I attended with friends, instead of my parents, was Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers in 1981. He was a supreme showman, even back then. 

I can only remember that I was standing in our family room to take in this new experience of watching music on TV. I don’t remember if my brother or sisters were in the room, although I think my brother was there. And on that pivotal day, I saw a Pretenders video of Chrissie Hynde dressed as a waitress singing “Brass in Pocket.” I had never made notice of the song on the radio when it was first released. I was just crossing phases from the Bee Gees to Tom Petty and wouldn’t have noticed Chrissie in my orbit. Even when I heard the song post-Bee Gees, I found it unremarkable. I had never even wondered who was singing it; the vocals were front and center and it didn’t sound like a band song. The jangly song sounded like a tune from an older era. On MTV, however, it was different. Chrissie’s attitude in the video was intriguing and the video was clever. 

A few more videos played, and then something that changed my musical tastes, and therefore my life, happened. There were the Pretenders again! This time it was “Message Of Love.” There was a badass looking band, fronted by a badass woman who was not dressed as a waitress in a diner. The band members popped into the video one by one and the music was intense. I was entranced. The guitar ripped and then silenced to make space for those unforgettable drums. And that voice! Chrissie’s voice carried the weight of defiance and rebellion. Who were these Pretenders? 

I don’t remember exactly the timing, but I imagine that I bought the first two Pretenders albums on my next mission to Northcross Mall or Gibson’s. I steeped in the music of the Pretenders. My dad had heard about this brand new record store in Austin called Waterloo and on occasion we would go. I looked in the “P” section every time, as if there would be some new release I didn’t know about. I can’t remember if it was my brother Steve or I who found a bootleg album from an early show. Or maybe my brother-in-law found it and gave it to me years later. Regardless, I loved checking out the “P” section on those trips with my dad.

Another time, poking around at an Austin flea market, I found a Pretenders pin. I’m 80% sure that’s true, but it’s possible my brother gave it to me and that I am adopting his story of finding it. It was in a velvet case. I think. These memories are old and intertwined.

By the time the single “Back on the Chain Gang” came out before my senior year, I was an utterly obsessed fan. That song, though, was filled with wistful sadness. The guitarist in the band had died of a drug overdose and the bassist had been fired for drug use, so only Chrissie and the drummer appeared in the video. I realized I would never see the band perform in its original line up. I had been too late in my discovery to see that band. But the Pretenders still changed my life. The flipside of that single, “My City was Gone,” was driven by the bass line that ultimately inspired me to take up the bass guitar.

Bootleg Pretenders record and my beloved Pretenders pin.

(I realize as I write this that I’m often late, extremely late, to the party in becoming a fan of popular or important musicians. I didn’t “discover” Amy Winehouse until long after she had died. I’ve only just started listening to Brandi Carlile, now that I know she’s not the former lead singer of the Go Go’s. I think I’ve resisted what’s popular since I moved away from the Bee Gees. That is, I resisted what’s popular until my son started listening to pop music. Now I’m quite happy to join a bandwagon and ride along with him.)

Around 1983 or so, my tastes turned toward “new wave” and I became a big fan of Eurythmics and The Police. (Another “P”!) Even so, I waited patiently for a new Pretenders release. Some time that year, either before or during my freshman year of college, the single, “Middle of the Road,” was released. It was full-on from the moment of that signature drum introduction, driven by the band and the “woo ooo ooo ooooooo” backing vocals. The harmonica solo was frantic. My friend, Fran, and I jumped on the bed listening to that song many times. 20? 30? 40? I have no idea.

(After reading this story, Fran has reminded me that I basically made her listen to “Middle of the Road” until she developed a full appreciation. We would listen repeatedly until she “learned to love it” like I did. I’m so bossy about music. Even today, I can’t believe anyone who says they don’t like Sinead O’Connor and I harass them with links to songs that I think will convince them!)

It was pure rock and roll exuberance! I wanted to be like Chrissie Hynde. Badass. Devil-may-care. Perhaps Chrissie modeled an alter ego for my studious, parent-pleasing self who had only gotten into mild trouble for partying with friends, but was otherwise skeptical or fearful of anything that seemed forbidden or reckless. 

Eventually, the “Learning to Crawl” album was released. The album began with the singles I already knew, and those were enough to carry the album. I locked onto a few new favorites, “2000 Miles” and “Thumbelina,” which I’ve played in bands since then. The album solidified my admiration for Chrissie Hynde. How could a person bounce back from losing two members of her band? I knew that she’d been pregnant while writing some of these songs and the thought of her being a mother redefined my view of what a mother might be. I found her to be even more badass. I simply can’t think of a better word to describe her.

A few years went by during my time at Texas A&M and in my senior year, there was news of a new Pretenders album. I couldn’t believe it! The single, “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” was underwhelming. But I was a hard core fan and I would find something to love in that album. I bought the album as soon as it was available. Walking by the Memorial Student Center (MSC) one day, I saw a flyer. I stopped in my tracks. After all, this was a conservative engineering school with a quasi-military corps of cadets that hardly represented counter culture. The Pretenders were going to perform in College Station, Texas! I suppose the Pretenders weren’t counter culture anymore anyway. Were they even a band anymore? Frankly, it did not matter. They were coming!

Having the founders of a rebellious band, even if they had mellowed a bit, did not align with the predominant culture in College Station, the heart of Ronald Reagan country. When I voted in 1984, I was the only person in line who wasn’t enthusiastically talking about Ronald Reagan. While waiting, I heard rude comments about Geraldine Ferraro, the first female Vice Presidential candidate. I stood quietly in that line ready to cast my vote for the minority. And I was one of the few people not camping out or standing in a long line at the MSC to see Huey Lewis and the News. (No offense, Huey, but you were just too mainstream.)

I stared at the flyer. Chrissie Hynde in College Station? It was unthinkable! Being in the musical taste minority presented an opportunity. Who at A&M would be rabid about a Pretenders show besides me? Sure, there would be long lines in Austin, but in College Station?

This was a golden opportunity to score some front row tickets! I would need to organize a campout near the box office. Not only that, but College Station had only one nice, new hotel, the Hilton. Maybe I’d find a way to meet Chrissie Hynde!

Both of those things happened. But that’s a story unto itself. Stay tuned for Part Two.