Last of the real rock chicks

By FIONA STURGES

A few weeks ago, Chrissie Hynde, lead singer of the Pretenders and living monument to rock's glorious heritage, was thrown out of a London pub. She had run into Paul Weller, and they and a group of friends had spent the evening together singing old soul songs.

"They were kind enough to stay open late for us, and I allegedly said something that offended the bar staff," Hynde thunders. "So they asked me to leave." I'm impressed, I say. "Yeah, well, I wasn't impressed with Paul Weller, who didn't stand up and defend me. He wanted to stay for another, so he just said, 'Cheers, mate, see you later', as I was being pushed out of the door."

After just a few minutes in her company, it isn't hard for me to imagine Hynde's mouth getting her into trouble. Her conversation is laden with attitude, her vocabulary spiked with swear words. Every time she speaks, the furniture seems to rattle. And when she warms to a theme there's no stopping her.

Here's what I get when I ask if she follows what young bands are doing: "You know what? I don't give a [expletive]. I'm not 18 any more, and I don't live for music. It's not like I'm waitressing any more and I get home and put on an Iggy Pop album just to save my life.

"It's a different world from the one I grew up in and, besides, I've got other things going on in my life. I've got a teenager at home, y'know? I go to gigs from time to time, but I don't look to see who's cool and what isn't. Who cares?"

At 52, she looks pretty much like the Chrissie Hynde of 25 years ago: the shaggy dark hair with a long fringe, the black eye makeup, the don't-mess-with-me stare. While she will talk in passing about her new LP, Loose Screw, she assures me she won't bore me with the details. She's not into "all this self-promotion crap".

The Pretenders' eighth studio album comes with all the spite and cynicism we've come to associate with Hynde. The opening track, Lie to Me, pours scorn on the lies of a duplicitous lover; Fools Must Die seethes with irritation at people who struggle to think.

Hynde's punk roots have always belied the slightly dubious appeal of some of her back catalogue. The Pretenders' first two albums, which contained such swaggering classics as Brass in Pocket and Talk of the Town, achieved a near-perfect balance of punk and pop.

Later releases, such as 1986's Get Close and 1990's Packed, veered dangerously close to the middle of the road. More recent albums, in particular 1999's Viva el Amor, have heralded a partial return to form, although Hynde's status as a pop icon has more to do with her fiery determination and her allegiance to the spirit of rock'n'roll than her musical output.

Over the course of 25 years, the Pretenders have endured the kind of tragedy that would have prompted lesser bands to call it a day. Just five years into their career, the band lost two of their founding members.

The bassist Pete Farndon's heroin habit meant that he was becoming increasingly distanced from the rest of the band and, in 1982, he was fired. Just two days later, the guitarist Jimmy Honeyman-Scott was found dead in his London flat after a drug overdose.

"I went from everything to nothing," Hynde states. "Suddenly it was just me and a drummer. Yes, it was a low point." Less than a year later, Farndon died from a cocktail of heroin and cocaine.

But becoming a solo artist was never an option for Hynde. "I don't have the front for it," she maintains. "If it said 'Chrissie Hynde' on front of the Marquee, I would be on the first bus home.

"This band has not and has never been about me. I'm not interested in singer-songwriters or solo artists. I'm a band person. The reason this band exists is that I met Jimmy and Pete. Sure, I've always been ringleader, but I couldn't do it on my own."

Since the deaths of Farndon and Honeyman-Scott, there have been several different Pretenders line-ups. Guitarists have included Robbie McIntosh, Johnny Marr and Billy Bremner. "As a tribute to Pete and Jimmy, I've kept the name and I've kept the sound," Hynde says. "It's for them that I've carried on."

Over the years, Hynde hasn't been without her own problems. After a stormy year-long affair with the Kinks' Ray Davies in the early 80s, during which time she had a daughter, Natalie, she met and married Jim Kerr, of Simple Minds - when both bands were playing at Sweetwaters in New Zealand - with whom she had another child.

Five years later their relationship fell apart, and Hynde was left bringing up two children by herself. "Sure, having kids slows you down a bit, but in a good way, because if you're too prolific people are like, '[expletive] off,' anyway.

"I'm not gonna harp on about how hard it was. I'm the same as any other 52-year-old. Sometimes it's been hard but most times it's been a blast."

Hynde grew up in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio. In 1973, the 22-year-old had saved enough money for a plane ticket and decided to move on. "I wasn't interested in being in the suburbs, or even going to New York or California. I just wanted out."

Armed with a bag of clothes and three records - Funhouse and Raw Power by the Stooges, and the Velvet Underground's White Light/ White Heat - Hynde headed for Britain.

At first, she worked at a series of badly paid jobs, but after meeting the editor of rock magazine New Music Express, she was offered some work as a writer. "It didn't last long, as I was practically illiterate," she laughs, "though they did get me to interview Brian Eno. I'd no idea what to say - I was totally in awe of him."

After a brief stint working with Malcolm McLaren and Vivienne Westwood in their King's Road sex shop, Hynde moved on again, this time to join a band in Paris.

But by 1976, aware of the burgeoning punk scene in Britain, Hynde had returned to London, where she became friends with Mick Jones, who later formed the Clash, and the fledgling members of the Damned. "I was there when all these bands got together," she booms.

"I saw them pick up their first guitar. It was really painful and depressing for me. Everyone was in a band but me. I used to bump into people, and they'd say, 'Hey, what are you doing now? Are you still trying to get a band together?' I must have heard that line 100 times."

In 1978 Hynde met the bassist Farndon, the guitarist Honeyman-Scott and the drummer Martin Chambers, and the Pretenders were born. Within a year they had reached No 1 with Brass in Pocket, and their bestselling debut album followed shortly afterward.

Nowadays Hynde says she is content "just getting old and being in a great rock band". She leans forward in her chair and, for the first time in an hour's conversation, lowers her voice.

"Look, as long as we can make records and sell enough so we can do some shows, that's all I want. You know what? I just want to play guitar and be in a band. Same as I always did."

- INDEPENDENT