Concert Review: The Pretenders, Saturday, February 21, at the Ameristar

Dressed in a long black coat with tails, a bright purple belt and some muted purple boots no doubt made of Chinese plastic, Chrissie Hynde hit the stage at Ameristar with all the swagger that made her so dangerous and special 30 years ago. Not that age hasn’t tempered her assault a little, with both humor and humility.

After a beautiful rendition of “Kid,” from the first Pretenders album, she asked a man in the front row who was on his cell phone, “Who are you talking to?”

Then she took it from him and asked the caller, “How come you couldn’t make it?”

“He hung up,” she reported, adding, “I seem to have that effect on men.”

After “Don’t Get Me Wrong” and immediately before “Brass In Pocket,” she joked that everywhere she turned men were rushing to help her—referring to guitar techs, her male bandmates and fans. She quickly added, “That only happens here. Believe me, even my dog doesn’t listen to me at home.”

But everyone was indeed listening in the 9/10ths full Ameristar Pavilion. Her voice was as beautiful as ever—the wordless vocal bridge in “Back on the Chain Gang” bringing applause and no doubt a few tears, as it followed those heartbreaking lines presumably about the death of original guitarist James Honeyman-Scott, “They’ll fall to ruin one day, for making us part.”

Hynde also danced, showing off that “Brass in Pocket” sidestep, and pushed her excellent lead guitarist, James Walbourne to one frenetic height after another. The band was solid and exciting, with bassist Nick Wilkinson providing propulsive bass lines to do the late Pete Farndon proud and steel guitarist/second guitarist Eric Heywood (of both Son Volt and Alejandro Escovedo fame) offering plaintive counterpoints to Walbourne’s hot licks.