What a style. She’s so special. Her tone and phrasing a provocative mix of soaring thrush and stepped-on cat, Chrissie Hynde is certainly going to have some of our attention. I fix on the moment in “Brass in Pocket” when Hynde’s imagination comes out. She’s going to use everything she’s got, arms, legs, style, sidestep, fingers, but climactically “my—my—my—imagination,” the first syllable of “imagination” depressed like a shy ducking of the head on coming through a doorway of uncertain size.
(She almost says “ ‘magination,” which would be an Apostrophe Hook!) Who said we could talk about imagination in a song like this? The artist said so. The persona of the needy girl singing these words becomes transparent to the ambitious Chrissie Hynde.
 Compare the sad lack of imagination charged to the rainbow in Paul Simon’s “My Little Town”—the opposite way to assert the artist’s authority.