Akron, Ohio’s own, Chrissie Hynde, is back with the Pretender’s 11th studio album, Hate for Sale – a tasty, ten-track nugget that rocks, rolls and everything else in between. In just over forty years, Hynde has fronted the aforementioned rock and roll outfit with various members, and now she’s returned with a smashing new record – featuring the current touring line-up. Martin Chambers, the band’s original powerhouse drummer reclaims his throne behind his kit, alongside bass guitarist Nick Wilkinson to create the rhythm section. James Walbourne, takes on lead guitar duties as well as the album’s co-composer with Hynde. Prior to the release of Hate for Sale, Hynde’s last Pretenders album Alone (2016) found her working side by side with fellow Akron native Dan Auerbach. While Alone successfully allowed Hynde to explore new musical avenues, Hate for Sale brings her and the band, seamlessly, right back to the heart and soul of what most would expect the Pretenders to deliver: an emotional musical journey – full of vigor, attitude and passion.
The title track kicks off with an attention-getting false start and is filled to the brim with heated lyrics, “Money in the bank and coke in his pocket/Porn all day, wanks like a rocket” which is only fueled by Hynde’s legendary bitchiness and sarcasm, topped-off with a hefty helping of punk angst – allegedly a nod to punk rock predecessors The Damned. The song, “Hate for Sale” is certainly a barnburner that sets the tone early for the dynamic roller coaster ride throughout the rest of the album. The lead-off single, “The Buzz”, heralds the classic tone of vintage Pretenders, as the jangly twang of Hynde’s and Walbourne’s fretwork produce a beautiful cacophony of six-string bliss. This track could be easily adopted as a new favorite by the purists of the band’s fan base as Hynde’s lyrics meander between the allusions of love and drugs, “Love, oh love – I can only prove you’re real/By scratching the fever”.
The reggae groove and hypnotic melodies of “Lightning Man”, add a worldly and diverse dynamic that reduces the mood to a slow simmer. Choice lyrics, “The devil offered something/And you were up for trying it/You stashed it in the grooves/Now we’re dancing to the beat”, only enhance the aura of this track’s atmospheric haze. “Turf Accountant Daddy” brings the rock and roll swagger back into the fold with classic rock crunch and hypnotic beat supplied by Chambers and Wilkinson as they hold down the bottom end. A quick splash of eighties synthesizer-flair rears its head and adds a pleasant flashback to a bye-gone era. “You Can’t Hurt a Fool” graces the listener with the soft and easy side of Hynde’s musicality as her vocals soar and shine throughout the slow-dance worthy ballad. The whip-smart, lyrical showcase in “I Didn’t Know When to Stop” impresses before “Maybe Love is in NYC” slides into the cue. “NYC” swings and sways with a feel reminiscent of the undeniable classic, “Back on the Chain Gang” – which should quench the thirst of those relishing that vintage sound that has proven to be timeless.
Watch out, as Chambers showcases his skills as “Junkie Walk” emotes visions of zombies dancing to Hynde’s chastising rants. Walbourne‘s mojo is in full-effect while letting it rip on his axe and tremolo. Listeners will be hard-pressed to not shake their asses while trying to clap in time to “Didn’t Want to be This Lonely” – another instant classic and what will surely be a firecracker live, in concert. And, in almost no time at all, Hate concludes on a somber note with the ballad, “Crying in Public”. Hynde’s heart and vocal prowess are on full display with the yearning lyrics, “She might look a million or only ten cents/When mascara runs there’s no recompense” – that are orchestrated so brilliantly alongside a whimsical piano, dueling violins, viola and cello.
By clocking in at just seconds over thirty minutes, Hynde, Chambers, Walbourne and Wilkinson may leave some listeners wanting more bang for their buck. However, packed within these ten tracks is a solid and eclectic mix of genres, fresh sounds and vintage flair. Hate for Sale is the band’s strongest in a long while and should give any listener enough to gnaw on and then some.
