Local Leading Ladies Channel Their Inner Chrissie Hynde

Being Chrissie Hynde is no easy task. The enigmatic Pretenders frontwoman is equal parts bitch and muse, with professional and personal histories to make even the most established rocker cower: a place in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, one of the best debuts ever to grace the vinyl stand, a child with Kinks founder Ray Davies. These days, channeling Hynde requires a few different things — a lover half your age, for starters. But the same punk-rock sentiment stands at the heart of the 59-year-old’s swagger: a hefty dose of fuck off.

“I can either pretend to be Chrissie Hynde, or I can just do my best at being myself and hope that I honor her that way,” explains local singer-songwriter Jenny Carr through her rose-tinted glasses. Carr is sitting at a secluded, boozy table at the back of RecordBar with Abigail Henderson of Atlantic Fadeout, discussing the next incarnation of a tribute series: a KC showcase honoring the Pretenders.

Though Hynde’s legend stems from the Pretenders’ albums of the 1980s, her influence has never waned. Other raucous, tough women musicians who have scored since the late ’70s can trace their roots to the Ohio-born icon. With her distinctive punk-shag haircut and muscular voice, she taught the world that women could be more than feathery, whispering songstresses behind acoustic guitars.

“If you’re a guy and you play guitar, you probably grew up listening to Bowie albums or Dark Side of the Moon,” Henderson says. “If you’re a girl, you have Chrissie Hynde. I remember listening to it on the radio as a little girl. The way she sings is exclusively her own. Her structure and her confidence — it’s all very specific. So instead of trying to pull it off, we’re just going to put our own spin on it and hope that we do it justice.”

Carr takes a swig of Southern Comfort. “I’m gonna fucking rock it.”

Henderson laughs and puts her arm around Carr. “Right,” she says. “Ms. Carr has no problem killing it onstage.”

When Sarica Douglas, singer of the punk band Lazy, shows up to the interview, shots of tequila are ordered. As she catches up with the conversation, it becomes increasingly clear that waxing nostalgic about Hynde’s legacy has left everyone a little intoxicated. Carr fondly recalls the days of listening to the Pretenders with her dad, and Douglas — who is dressed like a Gypsy pirate — confesses to having pictures of Hynde littering her notebooks and shoe boxes.

Hynde even provokes a little female bonding. Midway through the conversation, Douglas pauses and looks at Carr. “I feel like we should go on a canoe trip together,” she says. “I was in Girl Scouts. It could be fun.”

Carr says, “I think I’m in love with this girl.”

Henderson has a confession of her own. “We’ll be covering ‘I’ll Stand By You,'” she says, referring to the 1994 Pretenders single that Hynde co-wrote with schlock kings Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly. “I don’t care what anybody thinks — I love that song.”

Carr gives her a poke in the side and laughs; she has chosen a more obscure set, focusing on early songs such as “Up the Neck” and “Space Invaders.” Douglas’ band has chosen the most well-known Pretenders song, “Brass in Pocket,” off the band’s debut. “It’s definitely going to sound like Lazy,” Douglas says between shots. “A little punk, a little sassy, a little campy. But we try to stay as true to their sound as we can.”

Leave it to fashion-conscious Lazy to plan the outfits first, though. “We, as an entire band, really adore and idolize them. I’m going to give myself a little wig with bangs, some stonewashed jeans and a leather jacket. We want it to be visually entertaining, too, but always respectful.”

In addition to Lazy and Atlantic Fadeout, the tribute show features Erin McGrane with Katie Gilchrist and Sean Hogge, as well as the Mahoots — the only all-male group involved in the Pretenders project. Carr’s set is solo acoustic, and McGrane plans to interpret the Pretenders’ catalog on the ukulele.

As usual for a Sonic Spectrum-branded tribute, the sets are interpretations, not mere covers — the night won’t be well-intentioned karaoke. For these devotees, Hynde and the Pretenders illustrate something at the core of music making: stepping onto a stage and owning the audience from the first chord. Simpler than that, women want to be Hynde, and men (and plenty of women) want to sleep with her.

The conversation now thoroughly lubricated, talk turns to Hynde’s absurd episode of CMT’s Crossroads series, an episode in which she performed Pretenders’ hits with country-pop mainstreamer Faith Hill.

Carr takes a swig of her drink and stares down anyone with objections. “I think she’s Chrissie Hynde,” she says. “And she can do whatever the fuck she wants.”