I was up late watching TV with my husband when I learned that Chrissie Hynde has formed a new band. To my horror, she was playing second fiddle, so to speak, to her new beloved, JP Jones, an annoying Welshman half her age.
In case anyone failed to notice the age difference, she warbles it in the song “Perfect Lover.” (I found my perfect lover, but he’s only half my age…) In fact, she and this guy have released an entire album of songs about their doomed relationship. Evidently, Jones wants to raise a family and at 58, Chrissie has hung up her childbearing spurs.
My husband brought home the new CD the other day, and our son asked about it. I explained, “It’s Chrissie Hynde and some douche in a hat.” My husband begged to differ, in a sharp tone. He had seen them perform that afternoon and Chrissie had autographed his CD.
Still, it’s awful. Not just awful, but so awful that I longed to jump out of the car when we had to listen to it on a ninety minute road trip. All the songs are “nakedly” autobiographical, with lyrics like “I’m old, you’re not” ” you surprised me in the bar when I decided to take you home.” It’s like reading the diary of someone you admire and finding a bunch of LOL’s and smiley face thingies.
Poor Chrissie. She is so besotted with this douche that she’s lost all judgment. These songs prove beyond a doubt that a little ambiguity is vital where pop songs are concerned, unless you’re a poet like Hank Williams Sr. It was so embarrassing to listen to this shit, I had to cover my face to endure it.
Patti Smith got herself a cute young guy and let him play in her band, in the background. Not only that, he was a babe. Chrissie, call Patti to find out how it’s done, before that douche empties your bank account!