eS ETT ee Se page 12 "THE OTHER PRESS Wednesday,February 29,1984 A Band with Hynde-sight All it took was the sight of Chrissie Hynde, dressed from head to toe in a striking combination of black and by JOEL HAGEN white, to bring the crowd to its feet at the Queen Eliz- beth Theatre on the night of Tuesday, February 21. And that’s how most of us stayed - standing ~ as Hynde and company poured out almost two hours of great songs. The Pretenders could have played everything that they have ever recorded, and you can be sure that the audi- ence would have remained to hear every last syllable. The band opened with My City Was Gone, a song that captures the It is no secret that those who choose to write for a living have it hard; the hours are long, the pay is by Rob Guzyk poor and the rewards, if any, are slow in arriving. It is, therefore, re-assur- ing that some ‘Canadians such as W.P. Kinsella prove that if one works hard it is z - 4 Ld — < > Zz 4 Ww nv. | © ° = ° pa a Pretenders’ sound perfectly: catchy bass lines supported by solid drumming and the timely riffs of guitarist Robbie McIntosh. Of course the cream and sugar were the fantastic vocals of Chrissie Hynde. Her ability to lash out leeringly at the audience (‘Not me baby I’m_ too precious, Fuck off!’’), and then sing passionately (‘‘We were...Two birds of para- dise’’) was the key to the Pretenders success. She also happens to be, in my opin- ion, beautiful, but. that’s another story. ; After the Pretenders got the crowd going with their first two or three songs they seemed to falter, playing some of their more obscure and less melodic material, mostly from the second al- possible to turn dreams into reality. Kinsella, an ex-pizza operator turned successful writer, has done just that. However the real Kinsella is not just a Canadian writer who has done well in the States, he is also something of a stand-up comic. Last Thursday Douglas College students were treat- ed to an entertaining and, at times, hilarious reading by one of Canada’s more com- bum.- However, around the midway point they picked up the pace with an energetic but thoughtful rendition of Back on the Chain Gang. Introducing the song, Hynde dedicated it to former band members James Honeyman Scott and Pete Farndon, Both of whom died tragi- cally. (‘‘This is for some friends of ours who are long gone.) The triumphant high point of the concert though, was the crowd pleasing Middle of the Road. Everyone helped Mcintosh and bassist Malcolm Foster croon out the background vocals, and the brief interlude about halfway through the song was counted along by the frenetic audience. Near the end of the con- ella A Hell mercial writers. His work, though, is not typical of most Canadian writers. It is surreal, dealing with lyrical images and traditional val- ues, such as love and fami- ly. It is not typically Cana- dian in that there is no mention of a ‘‘Garrison mentality’’or a search for a Canadian identity. The bulk of his reading came from a series of Indian stories set on the Hobbema cert, the antics of drummer Martin Chambers became the centre of attention. Keeping the fans near the stage on their toes, he began flinging his drum- sticks into the audi- ence, procuring a seemingly endless supply of replace- ments all the while. Cham- ‘bers also pounded out a few brief solos in the late por- tions of the concert, bashing away at his futuristic white drumset. Although the other band members were not as charis- matic as Hynde and Cham- bers, they were tight, play- ing well and singing the harmonies, especially on Thin Line Between Love and Hate, in perfect pitch. In fact, the Pretenders were ‘‘in tune’’ in all re- reserve in southern Alberta. Narrated by Silas Ermines- kin, a young Indian male, Kinsella pokes fun at the White Man and_ reveals (surprise) that Native Indi- ans are people too. Taken from his latest col- lection of short stories The Moccasin Telegraph, The Crown comments on the absurdities of government and monarchy: “The idea of someone owning land is foreign to Indians, but Crown land -is even stranger...crown trans- lates as the Queen’s hat. So the best the interpreter can do is explain to the Indians that the land all around their reserve is owned by the Queen’s hat.’’ “The Indians talk that back and forth, shake their heads and laugh and laugh. They always knew the white men were crazy but to tell them that the great wilder- ness was now owned by the Quéen’s hat was just too much. ’’ Surprisingly, Kinsella ad- mits that Native Indians enjoy his work because it illustrates that Indians are able to laugh at the people who oppress them. In fact, it is only the ‘‘knee-jerk liber- als,’’ that take offence to his stories. Kinsella owes much of his new found success _ to Shoeless Joe, a_light- hearted novel set against the back-drop of baseball lore, elusive dreams with spects; musically, among themselves, and most impor- tantly, with the audience. They reached their finale just as the crowd wanted more, and they were called back on stage for two en- cores by their appreciative fans. Their selection of encore tunes was priceless, sum- ming up that almost indes- cribable sexual essence that Chrissie Hynde puts for- ward. From the subtle luring of Brass in Pocket, to the overt lyrics of Tatooed Love Boys (‘Changing tires/Up- stairs bro’/Well | shot my mouth. off and you showed me what that hole was for’’), | must say that the Preten- ders aren’t what their name implies. They’re real. In the FEESH: Fella reclusive writer (J.D. Salin- ger) thrown in for good measure. In_ it, Kinsella blends fictional and non-fic- tional elements where it is possible to turn one’s dreams into reality. When a voice tells narra- tor Ray Kinsella: ‘‘If you build it (a baseball dia- mond), he (Shoeless Joe Jackson) will come,’’ one realizes this is not a base- ball novel in the traditional sense. The real Kinsella is as obsessed with writing as the fictional Kinsella is about baseball. For Kinsella, the purpose of fiction is to entertain. ‘‘It comes from the fireside tradition of peo- ple telling their action of the day,’’ Kinsella says. ‘Symbols and myths are great, if you can sneak them in,” he admits, but he is upset with critics who think if a piece of work ‘‘is incomprehensible it must be good.’’ He also does not care for the ‘‘boring drivel’’ of writers who question their existence. Kinsella readily admits to being a fan of baseball and spends the summers driving from ball-park to ball-park across North America. His other books include Dance Me Outside, Scars, and Born Indian. His new book, The Thrill of the Grass, a collection of base- ball stories, will be pub- lished by Penguin books this July.