Pretenders and B-52s at SPAC, 6/21/98

by Seth Rogovoy

(SARATOGA SPRINGS, N.Y., June 22, 1998) -- Emerging from the fertile ground of the original punk-rock revolution, The Pretenders and The B- 52s became two of the most critically-acclaimed and commercially- successful groups of the late-'70s and early-'80s. Their particular styles took punk-derived energy and combined it with pop strategies; hence, the moniker "new-wave," which was indiscriminately applied to these and other groups that achieved the popular success that eluded the early punk groups.

In the case of The Pretenders and The B-52s, what distinguished these groups were the personalities driving them. While The Pretenders pretended to be a rock band, it was and still is a vehicle for the considerable singing and songwriting talents of Chrissie Hynde. Along with her contemporary, Patti Smith, Hynde carved out a new role for the rock 'n' roll frontwoman, one in which received notions of femininity no longer applied. In this way, Hynde was a spiritual godmother to the host of angry, chick-rockers of the '90s -- the Liz Phairs, Courtney Loves and Alanis Morrissettes.

In concert at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center on Sunday night, Hynde showed that nearly 20 years down the line, the formula still works. Dressed in a vintage, new-wave style suit that emphasized her androgyny, Hynde plowed through a rocking set of her greatest hits, delivering them with care and conviction, herself imbued with a Dylan- like dignity worthy of this elder statesman of new-wave.

Whether she was singing about the dark depths of relationships on songs like "Private Life" or "Precious" or addressing more social and political themes on songs such as "My City Was Gone" or "Back on the Chain Gang," Hynde worked hard to engage her audience in the moment. She broke down a wall of initial stiffness by taking it to the people, literally, when she roamed the shed and out onto the lawn, a cordless microphone allowing her to sing "Thin Line Between Love and Hate" anywhere she chose to go.

The audience was all hers from that moment on, as she and her band, which included original member Martin Chambers -- one of the most powerfully inventive drummers in rock -- poured forth favorites including "Middle of the Road," "Don't Get Me Wrong" and "Brass in Pocket." Hynde's trademark vibrato was as sleek and affecting as ever, and her band cleanly executed the sophisticated riffs and rhythms that characterize her songs. Two decades into her career, Hynde and The Pretenders emerged as triumphant as any rock band on the touring circuit.

Not so The B-52s. While on paper this double-bill seemed to make sense -- both groups probably sharing a fan base of thirty- and forty- somethings, thus able to package themselves as a sort of new-wave nostalgia bill -- in execution the disparity in their styles was jarring. Whereas The Pretenders are the model of a conventional rock band, The B-52s -- at least as they came across in concert -- are a cartoon of a band, and a stale one at that.

This isn't to say that the B's, as they are known among fans, are without substance. Some of the group's best songs played on Sunday night, including "Rock Lobster," "Party Out of Bounds" and "Quiche Lorraine," are subtly subversive. "Rock Lobster" starts out as the tale of a fun day in the sun, but turns into a nightmarish fantasy of oceanic horrors. "Party Out of Bounds" asks the age-old question, "Who's to blame when parties are poorly planned?", and "Quiche Lorraine," which begins as an ode to a favorite pet canine, winds up in the doghouse.

The B's graft these darkly comic narratives onto funky neo-surf tunes that heighten their surreal nature, and on Sunday they delivered them amidst a neo-futurist stage set. Whether it was due to indifference on the part of the performers, poor pacing, bad arrangements or a lousy sound mix -- or a combination of several of these factors -- the shtick didn't work, and what historically could have been a riotously fun way to kick off the summer pop season was instead merely a tedious, blaring mess.

[This review originally appeared in the Berkshire Eagle on June 24, 1998. Copyright Seth Rogovoy 1998. All rights reserved.]