Pretenders is a bit better than I expected. Rhythmically sharp like other classic new wave, their poppy singles betray what this album is really like. “Precious” is a great song and a highlight here, for starters.

I’ve had a battle going on with “Brass in Pocket” for decades. For as long as I can remember, the song always annoyed the hell out of me when it came on the radio. I’m not entirely sure why. In my original review for Pretenders, I wrote that the verses were weak and the chorus took too long to come in and left too quickly.

Maybe that’s related, but you know what? I think I just hate the phrase “brass in pocket.” What the fuck does that mean? Is it an innuendo? Does it refer to an erection? Or do people in the UK carry around pocket-sized trumpets? I’m a stupid American, so I might not be aware of UK idioms, but I refuse to believe “brass in pocket” is something people actually say there; that it has meaning. Pretenders made it up to screw with everyone and were rewarded with a successful smash-hit. I think that’s deranged. Who’s okay with that? And what am I supposed to do, just use the internet to research the song’s inspiration, like some kind of animal?

…

Hold on.

Well, I’ll be damned. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting the explanation to be that the phrase was actually made up. According to vocalist Chrissie Hynde, she overheard someone say the line, “Picked up any dry cleaning? Any brass in pocket?” Now, as to what the hell any of that means is anyone’s guess. Rather, the Wikipedia article doesn’t explain any further, and I don’t feel like finding additional sources right now. To me, that line sounds like code for confirming a mob-related assassination. I guess I can’t rule that out at this juncture.

I should feel my hatred of “Brass in Pocket” for its arbitrariness is now vindicated. But in truth, I’ve already lost. I like it now; “Brass in Pocket” is a great song. I don’t know when or why my turnabout happened, but on some day, “Brass in Pocket” became a joy to hear.

Perhaps the reason lies in my favorite part of the song, the chorus. I love the mild, rising vocal in lieu of a typically bombastic crescendo as Hynde doubles down on her efforts to convince herself and the audience of her value: “there’s nobody else here—no one like me.” What might have read like undue cockiness to me at one time now possesses greater depth.

That aforementioned slight increase in volume and force for the chorus betrays the strength of the narrator’s will. They’re not even entirely convinced of their own words. They’re psyching themselves up, voice on the verge of trembling, facade at risk of breaking, yet they hold it together. Coincidentally, they’re literally a “pretender.” They’re so vulnerable in this environment, yet they’re still taking a chance despite risking rejection. It’s beautiful. Hynde has expressed a temporary distaste for the song, herself, identifying what she believes to be her inexperienced technique as a vocalist. If she’s correct, that amateur quality might be what makes “Brass in Pocket” work. The contrast between her delivery and the confidence of the lyrics turns the song into something timeless and relatable.

Moving on, “Space Invader” is a plain instrumental, unlike its aggressive title may imply. There’s a fair amount of punk attitude on Pretenders, and it’s admittedly pretty cool when Chrissie Hynde says “fuck.” “Kid” is a great song and has a bit of a classic Californian beach vibe to it. It may even be better than “Brass in Pocket,” but I’ll have to ruminate on that some other time. In my opinion, the band’s best song is “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” but it ain’t on this album. That one sparkles and dazzles. It’s so pretty. I’m out.