Chrissie Hynde rocks both old and new stuff at the Tower

How does Chrissie Hynde stay fresh? At a great Tower Theater show on Tuesday night, the key seemed to be this: Start with an identifiable look and sound, and stay the course.

Hynde, now 63, formed the Pretenders in London in 1978. Post-punk in their setting, Hynde's melodies relied on memorable riffs and delicious pop sensibilities, with lyrics that spoke blunt truths about love and lust. Her low, purring vocals mixed carnality with vulnerability. And with her dark bangs, black eye shadow, long mascaraed lashes, and svelte frame, she was a lean, mean, empowered-feminist machine.

Roughly 35 years later, that's the Hynde an adoring audience got at the Tower Theater on Tuesday, playing tunes from her Pretenders catalog as well as some from her first true solo album, 2014's Stockholm.

The nicest thing about Hynde? She never played it obvious. Rather than rock out at the start, she and her backing quartet went for sweetly mid-tempo, lesser-known Pretenders songs such as "Don't Lose Faith in Me" and "Biker," before segueing into similar-sounding tunes from Stockholm such as "In a Miracle," the curt "Like in the Movies," and the Spector-like "You or No One."

When she hit her powerhouse encores, highlighted by the rude, cutting Pretenders hits "Precious" and "Tattooed Love Boys," Hynde made sure to include brusque solo songs ("Dark Sunglasses," "Sweet Nuthin' "). She's got new material and made certain you knew it. Good. At a time when most artists beyond 50 slip maybe one or two new tunes into their set lists, Hynde proudly pushed swaggering new cuts into our ears.

Hynde's Stockholm material (mostly cowritten by Björn Yttling, of Sweden's Peter Bjorn and John) does not sound exactly like the Pretenders. The point is that it hints at the past without trying to outrun it. You could hear her love for her old stuff in her ardent, aggressive delivery of the superb, still-glittering "Talk of the Town." She also offered a loping, neo-rockabilly "My City Was Gone" and a taut "The Phone Call."

Hynde was loose and jokey, teasing the crowd, self-deprecating when she forgot lyrics. And she stuck out her tongue whenever she got the chance.