Music that Knew Where I Was from:
The Pretenders Got There First
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The Pretenders, Learning to Crawl  (1984)
Class of 1992
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​The bassline hit, and I was in a trance. “My City Was Gone” started playing at a Pretenders concert in Cleveland, and suddenly, I wasn’t standing in a packed arena—I was a teenager in Mexico City again, listening to Learning to Crawl on repeat, not knowing why it moved me so much.
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Then Chrissie Hynde stepped up to the mic: “I went back to Ohio…” The arena exploded. And that’s when it hit me. The song I’d loved for decades, without fully understanding why, was about here. Akron. Cuyahoga Falls. Places are just down the road from my current home. A song I’d carried for years had always known where I was headed, even before I did.
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Growing up in Mexico City, Ohio felt like a dot on a map I’d never need. Remote, unfamiliar, and entirely outside the orbit of my world. I remember collecting American football helmets from Danesa 33—an ice cream chain that gave them out with your cone. Everyone wanted the Cowboys, Steelers, or 49ers. I got an orange helmet. No logo—just orange. My friends laughed: “¿Qué es esto?” It was the Cleveland Browns. The helmet of “nobody.” Today, I see that same orange helmet almost every day. I still don’t love football—but now, I understand what it means.
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The Pretenders always sounded British to me. Chrissie Hynde’s phrasing, the attitude—it all pointed to London. But she was from Akron, Ohio. She left for the UK, embedded herself in the punk scene, and built something new. Her band blurred borders—punk and pop, UK and US, hard and soft. She wasn’t one thing or the other. Neither was I.
I grew up with the rhythm and chaos of Mexico City. I’ve spent over two decades in the American Midwest. That contrast—speed vs. steadiness, noise vs. quiet—shaped me. I never really chose one over the other; I’ve lived between them. Chrissie did that too, and Learning to Crawl reflects it perfectly.
The album came after tragedy. Chrissie had lost two bandmates to drug overdoses. Most bands would’ve ended. She rebuilt. She moved forward, but she didn’t forget. The title says it all: Learning to Crawl.
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“My City Was Gone” is an elegy to a home that changed without asking. “Back on the Chain Gang” is a love letter dressed as a rock anthem. “Middle of the Road” spits frustration and clarity. And “Thumbelina”—a rockabilly gem—takes on a new meaning for me since I lived in Tucson, the song’s destination. At the time, it was just a song. Today, it’s a memory—etched deeper than I ever expected.
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There’s one home video of me walking onto a football field in full gear, barely six years old. Giant helmet, skinny legs. My grandpa called me “The Nail.” The team name on the sideline banner? Ohio. At the time, it meant nothing. Now, it feels like a sign.
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That’s what this record did—it told the truth before I was ready to hear it. It showed me that music doesn’t just reflect where you’re from. It sometimes tells you where you’re going.
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Learning to Crawl wasn’t about reinvention. It was about rebuilding with what’s left. That’s what belonging often looks like— Not a perfect fit, but a new form—a stitched-together, self-made identity that holds anyway.
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When people ask where I’m from, I hesitate. It’s not one place or the other; it’s “the middle of the road”—the space between chaos and calm, between languages, between home and the road.
Chrissie Hynde didn’t choose sides. She made something real from both. And maybe, that’s what we’re all trying to do.
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🎸 Rock Wisdom
What music helped you learn not where you’re from, but who you really are?
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