The Pretenders, "Learning to Crawl"

CJ goes back to Ohio and discovers that Pretenders are for real

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Apr 14, 2021

CJ’s Pitch:

There are two Christmas songs that absolutely destroy me every time I hear them. The first is the Bing Crosby classic “I’ll Be Home For Christmas”. Thinking about some WWII kid soldier on the front lines pining for home just crushes my heart.

The second is “2,000 miles,” which happens to be the last song The Pretenders’ 1984 release Learning To Crawl. In just seven words, proud Ohioan Chrissie Hynde and her band of Brits bring you to your knees.

He’s gone

2,000 miles

Is very far

It’s her phrasing of those last three words that sear your soul. From the pain in Chrissie’s voice, 2,000 miles might as well be 2 million. I could be listening to this song in the middle of July and still get the chills when she sobs those words.

Of course, Hynde’s vocal distinction has always been the instrument that sets The Pretenders apart. A bouillabaisse of Rust Belt slag, cigarettes, cheap beer and 180 proof whiskey, her voice conveys anger, love, fear, lust and hurt with equal measures of success. Learning To Crawl is an exploration of all those emotions in a 10-song, 40-minute maelstrom of brash music and stiletto lyrics.

It’s tough to pigeonhole The Pretenders into one convenient category. Sometimes they come off punk. Other times they’re churning out radio-friendly pop. Now they’re fist-in-the-air the political protesters. Then they’re soulful balladeers. But, the anchor is always Chrissie.

Listen to her take a stand by not taking a stand on “Middle of the Road”. The song is almost devoid of any melody, and yet she makes it work right down to the “Rawwrrr…purr” that leads into, of all things, a harmonica solo.

She’s gotten herself into an untenable situation in “Back on the Chain Gang” and appears to be trying to sing her way out of it. The “oohs” and “ahhs” feel so DIY on this track that it reminds me, in a good way, of The Cars clapping (out of sync) on “Since You’re Gone.”

“Time the Avenger” is a throwback to one of the best Pretenders songs ever, “Mystery Achievement”, with its relentless bass line. “Watching the Clothes” and “I Hurt You” are punk missives that Joey Ramone himself would’ve been proud to sing. “Show Me” is a tender lament followed by “Thumbelina”, which is essentially a rockabilly rave. Yet, Chrissie and the band ease chameleon-like through each style with effortless grace.

The two songs that most define the album for me, though, are “My City Was Gone” and “It’s a Thin Line Between Love and Hate.” In “My City”, Chrissie tears the Ohio government a new one for destroying her beloved Akron in the name of progress. It’s like a reverse “Sweet Home Alabama.”

“It’s a Thin Line” is a remake of an R&B song about a guy who goes to see his friend in the hospital after the friend’s wife has cut him up for betraying her. In The Pretenders version, Chrissie has reimagined herself in the role of the wronged woman. The venom in her voice is enough to dissuade any future lover from stepping out on her.

I could go on about Learning To Crawl, but I’d rather end with an apocryphal rock story. Ann Wilson of Heart related that Chrissie Hynde had faxed(!) some advice to her and other aspiring female rockers. Among the directives to avoid dating within the band and staying true to your vision was this pearl:

“Don’t think that sticking your boobs out and trying to look fuckable will help. Remember you’re in a rock and roll band. It’s not “fuck me,” it’s “fuck you”!

Just when I thought I couldn’t love Chrissie Hynde any more than I already did.

Don’s Response:

Last week CJ levied a #FakeNews accusation, claiming that I dismiss ‘80’s music as compared to the ‘90’s. Au Contraire, Charles, for the ‘80’s were my formative years as a rock & roll aficionado. Granted, my taste palette was all over the place, from VH and my guilty pleasure, H&O, to REM and U2. The ‘80’s – presented by MTV and NYC’s WPLJ -- exposed me to an eclectic, alphabet soup of artists that today’s algorithm world of streaming would never reveal.

That said, there were other similarly ubiquitous ‘80’s artists whom I overlooked at the time, including The Pretenders. Guilty as charged. While I enjoyed their singles, I missed the greatness of the Learning To Crawl LP.

It wasn’t until years later that I fully appreciated Chrissie Hynde. While many of her contemporaries swaggered, strutted, camped and sometimes downright chewed the scenery (hi David Lee Roth!), Chrissie simply strapped on her guitar and presented straightforward tunes with stripped down arrangements. While many other video-era bandleaders were posers, Chrissie Hynde was the ironic opposite of her band’s name. She was the real deal.

(Aside: drop everything and search Spotify for her stunning, stirring cover of Gram Parsons’ “She” – a duet with Emmylou Harris. It’s glorious.)

I’ll admit Learning To Crawl snuck up on me. Until this week, I’d never listened to it all at once. What a fun way to get reacquainted with these classic new wave rockers that still sound fun and fresh, mostly due to Chrissie’s totally unique, timeless voice and general badassery.

Pitch Successful

Mitch’s Response:

The etymology of the phrase “all killer, no filler” has sadly been lost to time. Some believe that it is a translation of Julius Caesar’s last words ("omnis homicida non consectetur”) spoken as an insult to his betrayer Marc Antony, mocking his weak stabbing stroke. Others believe that the aforementioned Diamond David coined the phrase while trying to foist another shitty solo album on the unsuspecting plebes. Regardless, the term has endured because it describes the platonic ideal of a rock record: an album where all of the tracks are great (the so-called “killer") with none of the dreck (the so-called “filler").

The CD era made the problem of filler worse and better at the same time, as bloated length CDs generated more filler but also made filler easier to skip - no more getting up and scratching the vinyl for every brain-piercing Yoko tune on Double Fantasy. And while The Pretenders’ Learning to Crawl pre-dates the CD era, it is still chock-a-block with skippable filler - in between some truly classic (but over-played) tracks.

The Killers: “Middle of the Road” is a fantastic song with great energy. “Back on the Chain Gang” is a fun tune that I only need to hear once every 5 years. “Show Me” is pleasant enough but the disco breakdown overstays its welcome. “My City was Gone” is an amazing song with an iconic bass line that has been tragically marred by association with Rush fucking Limbaugh.

The Fillers: “Time the Avenger” is annoying and can’t end fast enough. “Watching the Clothes” makes me yearn for the soothing sounds of a sneaker in a dryer. “Thumbelina” is a reminder for all rockers not named Gram to stop with the country tunes. “Thin Line Between Love & Hate” has been covered by others, better. “I Hurt You” is boring. And “2000 Miles” is the musical equivalent of someone leaving up their Christmas decorations until well-past Easter.

Chrissy Hynde might be a stone-cold killer but Learning To Crawl’s got way too much filler for this cat.

Pitch Failed

Ken’s Response:

In Philadelphia they call them hoagies, in parts of NY they’re heroes. You most likely know them as subs, but here in Massachusetts we call them grinders. Okay, technically our parents called them grinders and we use the term affectionately when deliberately trying to overplay our Boston stereotype. But there’s a different type of grinder that we love even more than cold cuts, cheese, and veggies. This grinder is a rare breed. This is the athlete that isn’t the most talented one in the game, and isn’t blessed with the natural skill or charisma of a Tom Brady or a David Pastrnak or a Manny Ramirez. This is your work-horse and you absolutely love everything about them. They work their asses off, they bring their A-game every single time, and you know they’re playing because they love what they do. Around here they’ve had names like Pedroia, Varitek, Edelman (happy retirement JE11), Krug, and the king of all grinders Marcus Smart.

Music has its grinders too, and The Pretenders are at the top of the list. Whether it’s Chrissie Hynde’s blue-collar laments, or when she’s absolutely lambasting her local government for ruining her beloved Akron, her poignant lyrics demand to be heard. But The Pretenders aren’t some grunge era wanna-be, so even when the subject matter is somewhat dark, the music is almost always upbeat and is somehow full of joy. We find Hynde channeling her inner Janis Joplin on “Thin Line Between Love and Hate”, or paying a light-hearted homage to Johnny Cash or Jerry Lee Lewis on “Thumbelina”. Throughout it all, Learning To Crawl is 40 minutes of good times.

That’s what grinders do, and that’s why we love them. Their hard work pays off and we are the beneficiaries. And if you’ve ever seen Marcus Smart take a charge in the 4th quarter of a meaningless, early-season blowout game, you know exactly what I’m talking about.

Pitch Successful

CJ’s pitch had just enough brass to get The Pretenders’ Learning to Crawl added to the Newbury St. Collection.

There’s a thin line between love and hate and we want you to crawl, walk or run into the comments section and let us know if you think The Pretenders’ Learning To Crawl is a precious thing or a middle of the road release.

Exile on Newbury St.

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