Dream Police - Seattle Gay News

POLICE
continued from cover
Prog-Rock, and my personal gold standard
for rock vocalists was stuck at Joplin, Plant,
and Daltrey. Full-throated belters, not some
weedy little warbler whining: “Raahhxaaanne!”
like his ball sack was being pulled
over the back of his head.
While I have come to eat those words
over the last couple decades, the fact
is Sting’s vocals have always been an
acquired taste for many, but few can deny
the effectiveness of that voice combined
with that music, Reggae-flavored rock
more Pub than Punk. A voice determined to
get the attention of jaded post-Sex Pistols
hipsters in London clubs, singing highly
literate, memorable lyrics worthy of the
former English teacher who penned them.
I can finally appreciate that adenoidal wail
for what it was: the plaintive chaunting of a
young man hopelessly obsessed with a lady
of pleasure. And of course, they played that
very song, with that high-pitched cry filled
out to a roar by several thousand strong:
“RAAHHX-AANNE!”
Another unwritten rule for reunions
should be: Don’t Fuck With The Hooks.
Don’t get all cute with phrases and melodies
that are hard-wired into your fans’ collective
consciousness, especially if they haven’t
heard you live in 23 years. The Police
violated this rule but once, with ‘Don’t
Stand So Close To Me’, which features one
of the most irresistibly danceable choruses
in Pop, Rock, or Reggae. Cueing off the
leaden remake from ’86 (remember the
seizure-inducing strobes from the video?),
the song nearly grinds to a dirge, causing
frustration and the temptation to smack the
band upalongside the head one time. But
all is forgiven with a note-perfect ‘Driven
to Tears’, which verifies Andy Summers’
status as a bona fide Guitar Hero, shredding
with controlled abandon, but never too
show-offy (certain death for any band that
doesn’t aspire to make you forget AC/DC).
‘Walking On the Moon’ and ‘Every Little
Thing She Does is Magic’ follow, equally
flawless, with no messing about with the
Hook, doubtless because the boys know
we’ve waited all night to chant back “Ee-
Yo-Oh!” til our throats are raw.
But the ultimate peak in a show that was
damn near all peaks is the sultry ’Wrapped
Around Your Finger’, with Sting at the
height of his emotive powers and rhythm
king Stewart Copeland using the full range
of his percussion to paint a picture of
operatic obsession that wraps itself around
your ear like…well, like Scylla reaching for
Charybdis (no, I’m not being intellectually
pretentious-it’s in the lyrics!). ‘De Do Do
Do’ was sheer joy, as was ‘Walking In
Your Footsteps’, ‘Can’t Stand Losing You’,
and ‘Invisible Sun’ (though re. the latter, I
might have known we weren’t going to get
out of there without a Meaningful Messagenamely,
a video of images of devastated
Iraq. Really, we haven’t forgotten, Sting).
The official ender was, natch, ‘Roxanne’,
with ‘King Of Pain’ the first encore of
three-count ‘em, three. One of which I
had already resigned myself to, ‘Every
Breath You Take’. Grammy or no fucking
Grammy, I still maintain this song is their
weakest, as if they had foreseen the rise of
Karaoke back in ’83 and decided to write
the ultimate song for that particular milieu.
At this point, Sting seemed understandably
weary, but soldiered on til the final drawnout
note. Then, the for-real, no-kidding, gohome-already
finale, a song I admit I didn’t
recognize, but from the distinctive punky
energy, I figured it must be off an early
album. (Yes, there were some misguided
souls who once considered The Police
‘Punk’. But from the raw power these three
put out this night, it’s perhaps not such a
stretch after all.)
This was one of those rare concerts that I
will be able to say I saw in years to come,
and expect youngsters who don’t know
who Gordon Sumner is to look at me with
awe and envy. With this show, the band reestablishes
themselves without a doubt as
a solid unit, not just ‘Sting & Co.’ Perhaps
it’s just as well they split up at their peak,
leaving fans with happy thoughts, rather
than dragging on long after the thrill is
gone. It seems hard to believe they hadn’t
played together for more than 2 decades…
but have you heard some of the bands that
have endured for more than 2 decades
lately? Mention should also be given to the
opening band, Fiction Plane, but I should
also mention the lead singer happens to be
Sting’s eldest, Joseph. But one would figure
that progeny or not, Sting would never
permit any band to share the Police’s stage
unless they were top drawer-which they
indeed are, with strong songs and a drummer
who would compare favorably to Copeland
himself. Yes, Joe Sumner does sound like
Daddy-but cut him some slack, it’s no small
feat for any artist to establish their own style
in the shadow of a megastar parent (just ask
Liza-or the Lennon brothers).
And, of course, everyone has their idea
of a reunion’s ‘perfect’ set list, but anyone
curmudgeonly enough to complain about
the choices of the Seattle show should have
just stayed home and listened to the box set.
Still, I wouldn’t have minded the inclusion
of the following: ‘Murder by Numbers’,
‘Demolition Man’, ‘Canary In A Coal Mine’,
‘Man In A Suitcase’, and an enjoyably silly
obscurity about an inflatable love doll:
‘Be My Girl-Sally’ (I guess the guy who
couldn’t convince Roxanne not to put on
the red light had to get it somewhere).
Readings make great gifts!
Have a Pride Party!
June 15, 2007
PRIDE ‘07 Music
Seattle Gay News
17