“Pretenders II” follows the pattern laid down by the first album. It begins with two disturbing tunes bound to please the band’s S & M crowd, “The Adulteress” and “Big Boys Get Spanked.” Hynde’s throaty, half-spoken vocal on “The Adulteress” makes her sound as if she was in the recording studio in skin-tight leather, keeping time on with a riding crop. It’s slimy and steamy, a perfectly dark compliment to Hynde’s bad girl persona. “Big Boys Get Spanked” is more like “Big Boys Get Beaten.” Only Farndon’s rubber band bass even remotely resembles music. Hynde screams like a banshee stuck in purgatory, and Chambers lays down an overly active beat that even the most drugged amongst us would have problems following. Chambers, an effective time keeper on the first album, is way off his game throughout, especially on the live cuts on the second CD, where he sounds as of he’s playing at a different concert. He does shine on “Message of Love,” manufacturing a choppy, high-karate beat to match Farndon’s hulking bass. The previously released “Talk of the Town” finds Hynde getting in touch with the breathy sensual vocal style that attracted both sexes. She owns up to her Mae West roots imitating the actress’s purr on “Pack it Up.” The lyrics, unusually playful for the Pretenders, emulate Tim Curry’s best tongue-in-cheek parodies and reflect the band’s freewheeling life style: “Oh whoa, whoa, whoa, this is no place for me, burning down the inner belt from Jacuzzi to Jacuzzi. It’s all right for you man, getting smashed, getting suntanned. But I know my place, where’s my suitcase?” “Jealous Dogs” a commentary on the evil deeds of the bad guys in the world, drips with sarcasm. Just try to ignore Hynde barking “Bow wow wow, here come the dogs,’ and “Get down off the couch.” With “Cuban Slide” absent and “Talk of the Town and “Message of Love” already familiar to listeners, there’s only one tune worthy of classic status and that’s “The English Roses,” with its infectious, relentless, multi-layered guitar work. Hynde’s guitar rings with the urgency and clarity of Quasimodo chiming the bells of Notre Dame, while Honeyman-Scott juxtaposes her sound with dirty, fuzzy bursts. (A near-perfect anthem, although with the 1,001 overdubbed guitars it is a little hard to tell what Hynde’s singing about.)

There were very few songs on the first album that failed, and when they did, they fell on their swords with a degree of creativity. On “Pretenders II,” the songs deserving the eject button are stodgy, still born. “Day After Day” provides its own commentary, ending with the sound effect of a plane crashing, and “I Go to Sleep,” yet another cover of a minor Kinks tune, proves once and for all that Hynde should have been happy seducing Ray Davies and kept her modulating voice far away from his songbook. The slick 60’s horn arrangement would be boffo for a James Bond film, but this is the Pretenders! Dusty Springfield had the style and yes, class, that could provide “I Go To Sleep” with the smokey, provocative atmosphere the arrangement demands. Hynde tries, but she’s no torch singer; there’s still has too much venom in her voice. “Louie Louie” utilizes the title of the Kingman’s iconic hit. Unfortunately, that’s all it borrows. “Louie, Louie” is a headache-inducing, pile-driving wreck (with horns!). It’s so egregious; someone should have turned off the tape, torn it into bite size pieces and fed it to one of the “jealous dogs.”

The eighteen cuts on the second disc capture much of “Pretenders II” in concert, with Honeyman-Scott in particularly good form. Too bad the rest of the band didn’t bother to show up. Honeyman-Scott plays with crystalline clarity on “Up the Neck,” duplicates Ritchie Blackmore’s fluid style on “The Wait,” and matches Jeff Beck’s precision on the otherwise inconceivably bad demo for “I Go to Sleep.” The group would have needed another half dozen guitarists on stage to recreate the sheer power found in the studio version of “The English Roses.” Live, it’s more like the english rose, solitary and weak. Hynde sounds lost on the lukewarm “Birds of Paradise” -- the rest of the band just sounds bored. Chambers, an effective metronome on the first album is all over the place during the live set. His drumming is muffled and tentative on “Message of Love.” He turns “Brass in the Pocket’s” strutting beat into foot race that nobody wins, and tries to do too much on “Private Life,” a song that cries out for continuity. Hynde’s performance also seems to have peaked in the dressing room. “Louie, Louie,” obnoxious enough in its original form, is a shriek-fest in concert; Hynde misses her cue on “The English Roses,” singing while Honeyman-Scott is still soloing and she’s off-key at the start of “Day After Day.” “Stop Your Sobbing” is resurrected for the umpteenth time and remains the musical Moby Dick Hynde will never capture, but the CD’s biggest you’ve got to be kidding me moment comes from the band’s take on Jackie Wilson’s peerless “Higher and Higher.” A vocal/brass group called “The Bureau” joins the Pretenders on stage for a fly-by-the-seat-of –your- pants version that’s bound to test you gag reflex. The sax player sounds like he’s playing the hose of an Electrolux, Chambers can’t find a groove, and everyone starts singing a different line near the end of the song. “The Bureau” could have brought along the rest of the bedroom set and it wouldn’t have helped. Vocally, they don’t have a leg to stand on.

The performances on both discs capture Farndon and Honeyman-Scott as the seamy side of rock stardom was beginning to catch up to them. Fardon died of a drug overdose in June 1982 and Honeyman-Scott aquiesed in April 1983. Hynde soldiered on with mixed results, notching hits like “Back on the Chain Gang” and “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” but never again scaled the heights of the group’s first two albums.

The material on “Pretenders II” may not match the quality of the first L.P., but there is still enough worthwhile material to warrant a listen or two. With eighteen cuts, the second disc is a holy grail for rabid fans. The rest of us need to remember this simple equation: rabid = crazy. Disc one will satisfy, but disc two will leave you foaming at the mouth and begging to be put down.

Posted November 6, 2006 Permalink