The Pretenders @ O2 Apollo, Manchester, 13 Oct

“I’m not gonna say too much tonight,” promises Chrissie Hynde. Fair enough. There are just too many songs to get through, so save that voice for singing, right? The Pretenders, the band for which Hynde is best known despite a slew of solid and ongoing solo work, last toured the UK in 2008 and this run of dates is clearly special (so special) to both band and a large and raucous crowd. The ‘band’, of course, four decades after they emerged as prime movers at the tail end of the UK punk scene, make The Fall look stable: Hynde herself once dismissed The Pretenders as a tribute act. Tonight, all that matters is that James Walbourne (from excellent support act The Rails) on guitar and original drummer Martin Chambers form the spine of the touring line-up, and they expertly set about taking the roof off.

Hynde, thankfully, breaks her vow of silence immediately. She interrupts a breathtaking, near-a capella version of Hymn to Her to chastise a front row champ who can’t resist breaking the band-imposed camera ban (“The Pretenders politely request that you enjoy the show in real time” – more of this, please) and she punctuates the set with a committed but questionable Liam Gallagher impression. The walk is spot on but even she would acknowledge that the accent – “Fuckin’ avin’ iiiiiit!” – needs work. Throughout, she thanks the crowd for their continued support and the band for their contribution, singling out Chambers for his breathless, breakneck playing. The voice is, remarkably, still all there and it remains strangely beautiful even at full pelt: that unique tone and enough vibrato to rattle the walls.

The setlist, no surprise, is heavy with bona fide diamonds. There are enough examples of Hynde’s recent solo work, alongside songs from the most recent Pretenders album: 2016’s Dan Auerbach-produced Alone; the pumping title track and Gotta Wait open the show. But it’s the gleaming back catalogue that the band dutifully kicks back into life. Message of Love and Private Life are early teasers but it’s an explosive Back on the Chain Gang that pulls the crowd to its feet and keeps them there. After that, the trail of hits becomes almost embarrassing: Kid, Brass in Pocket, I’ll Stand By You (“Here’s a Girls Aloud cover for you…”), Stop Your Sobbing, a scorching, main set-closing Middle of the Road.

As Don’t Get Me Wrong sends the crowd rushing into the aisles and security try to get people back to their seats, Hynde once again calls a halt. “Hey! This is a fucking rock show! People just wanna dance.” A handful of jobsworths versus Hynde and her hardcore is no fight at all, and security shrink away. “What do you think they’re going to do – start a riot? Have you seen how old they are?” She counts the band back in, muttering “I can barely stand myself…”, which, based on the energy level displayed by this fit and snarling 66-year-old tonight, is some distance from the truth. But, hey, long may she keep up the act.