THE LEG UP: You Don't Have to Live Like a Refugee

YOU DON’T HAVE TO LIVE LIKE A REFUGEE

Peeking at The Pretenders, Palmyra Delran, Beaten by Them and The Standard.  

I typically approach new material by bands who had their heydays in the 1980s or 1990s with no small amount of trepidation. There’s no way it’s going to live up to their best work; admittedly, that’s not the best way to think about it. But I’m pleasantly surprised by new releases by refugees from the postpunk 80s and the riot grrrl 90s, although much less so with a storied album by an indie band still plugging away.

The Pretenders, Break Up the Concert (Shangri-La, September 23)

In recent years, country music has become the last refuge for washed-up artists looking to revive their careers in a genre whose fans still buy albums. Bon Jovi and Jewel saw modest commercial upticks after signing with Nashville labels, and upcoming albums by ex-Hootie Darius Rucker and Jessica Simpson will likely do the same. Of course, Chrissie Hynde is not now and never will be washed up, no matter how many mediocre Pretenders reunion albums she releases. The latest, Break Up the Concrete, is the band’s least mediocre in nearly two decades, mainly because the Pretenders have gone country. Not slick Nashville country, but roadhouse country. Break Up opens with the rockabilly single “Boots of Chinese Plastic,” then launches into “The Nothing Maker,” which is steeped in pedal steel. “Don’t Lose Faith in Me” and closer “One Thing Never Never Changed” are convincing country-soul numbers, while “Don’t Cut Your Hair” and the Bo Diddley-style title track tear up the barroom dance floor. Unlike other artists, Hynde’s gravitation toward country never really sounds like a career-calculated move, if only because it’s such a good setting for her brassy vocals, which amazingly have lost none of their jive or authority over the years. Has she aged at all?

On repeat: “Boots of Chinese Plastic”

Palmyra Delran, She Digs the Ride (Apex East, October 14)

On the heels of last year’s friggin’ great Friggs retrospective, Today Is Tomorrow’s Yesterday, comes this genial EP from guitarist Palmyra Delran, who trades her band’s sloppy East Coast riot-grrrl assault for a more pop-addled sound complete with surf riffs and jangly guitars. The Joan Jettsy “You’re Losin’ Me” stops for a kazoo-sounding guitar solo, and “When I Was You” begins with a strong Byrds-by-way-of-Bangles riff, then careens into a ska breakdown. “Baby Should Have Known Better” roughs up a girl-group chorus, while on the title track, lovely backing vocals ooh and aah coyly behind Delran’s vocals, which exaggerate the sneer in Delran’s voice. Short but sweet, hardened but happy, She Digs the Ride could be the soundtrack for the coolest teen movie ever, by which I mean Clueless.

On repeat: “When I Was You”

Beaten by Them: Signs of Life (Logicpole/Thrill Jockey, November 11)

Remember that Silver Mt. Zion album from earlier this year? Think back. Remember how it was pretty damn silly? Remember how you thought apocalyptic post-rock had run its course and was no longer a viable genre? Remember thinking that scene in 28 Days Later was both its pinnacle and its death knell? Well, I remember. I also remember taking it all back after hearing this Australian band’s ominous debut, on which they build tense grooves instrument by instrument. Each member does his own things, not always playing toward a common purpose and so creating a strange friction on “Town Too Small” and “Pioneer 10.” The drama recalls early Dirty Three, but without the same sense of careening abandon. These songs go where they need to go and the band just follow along, which makes Signs of Life sound organic instead of forced or “written.” Beyond that, it’s well sequenced as an album, cresting and fading dramatically between tense numbers and more atmospheric songs like the title track--never a glamorous compliment, but crucial here to maintain that sense of undirected flow. Only complaint: Post-post-rock band should not be allowed to rap, which sinks “Verge” and nearly ruins the mood altogether.

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On repeat: “Town Too Small”

When Hell is full, the dud will walk the earth:

The Standard, Swimmer (Partisan, September 23)

Yes, I feel absolutely terrible panning the Standard’s long-in-coming sixth album. The Portland band got shafted when V2 folded shortly after they signed with the label, and they spent nearly a year in the wilderness, shopping around Swimmer. Credit them with persistence: Singer Tim Putnam founded Partisan Records to release the damn thing himself. It’d be a tale of triumph if Swimmer were their Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, but instead it’s more of the same: high-drama indie rock that’s still pretty faceless.

Stephen M. Deusner is a freelance music journalist based in Washington , DC. Don't ask him about Norwegian pop or house rabbits, unless you have a few hours.