![]() It seems like she scribbled thoughts on scraps of paper and then pasted them together in more or less chronological order. I laughed when I read it, because it echoes what I was thinking as I plowed through the book. The quote is from page 147 of her 312 page autobiography Reckless: My Life as a Pretender (Doubleday, 2015). The self-evaluation holds true though, even today. It would be a few more years before she stormed the charts herself in a band called The Pretenders. This is Chrissie Hynde describing how she approached being asked to write rock criticism for NME circa 1974. To begin a paragraph and find my way to a conclusion – Gretel tracking a breadcrumb trail would fare better… My only qualification, had I required one, was that I was as frustrated as the rest of them – a frustrated musician (the cliché of music journalism), opinionated, hungover, illegal in the workplace, devoid of ambition and, if I couldn’t find a word in my dumb guy vocabulary, I would make one up.” I couldn’t conclude a thought on a postcard… I wasn’t a poet. ![]() My head was disorganized, a tangle of crossed lines. “The idea of me writing anything at all was ludicrous.
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