Two Englishmen and an American (and a Corsican) in Paris
“Now there’s three of you in a band, you’re like a proper band. You’re like the policemen.”
Flight of the Conchords manager Murray, Episode 12
In the early summer of 2005, driving back into the Hellenic capital with impressions of Sting’s Broken Music Tour concert still fresh in my mind, a sense of nostalgia hit me. Not mine necessarily, but that of the Englishman whose on-stage renditions of Roxanne, Message in a Bottle and the Punk anthem Next To You hit home a sense of longing for days gone by. He may not have been conscious of it at the time, but below the surface three people were simultaneously sending out an S.O.S.
“With Sting’s memoirs out,” I concluded a review of his Athens show, “Andy Summer’s One Train Later on the way and Stewart Copeland’s home movies of The Police years collected in the documentary Everyone Stares, maybe the time has finally come for the old mates to get together again for one penultimate tour?”
So when one morning late last year the jazz-bassist-turned-Punk-Rocker-turned-pop-renewer-turned-lute-player suddenly rolled out of bed and thought “What would surprise everybody now? What would surprise me?” the logical conclusion came to be a phone call to his manager. “I want to get the band together again.” By February the 13th 2007, a day after The Police opened the 49th Grammy Awards, the whole world knew that one of the most influential trios of the 70s and 80s were back together again. A special fan club concert in Vancouver kicked off the world tour on May 27th, a tour that is setting a fair bunch of records in highest grossing tours and sold-out venues.
Last weekend The Police were out in full force in the French capital Paris. Inside the majestic Stade de France, 80.000 people gathered on both nights to see the blonded bandidos de do do do their thing, while outside every conceivable police division made their acte de presence, on horseback, on scooters, in riot gear, and as gendarmerie. One wondered what they were there for. Did they expect a bunch of 30-somethings to go near-ballistic like in 1981 when The Police turned up 4 hours late at a gig in Le Bourget due to heavy snow? Were they using the show as a training exercise for the Rugby World Cup later that week, or has this show of force become the daily norm in President Sarkozy’s security state?
The early days of anarchistic Punk behaviour, both the bands’ as that of their fans, have long passed. The Police may only have started out as Punk band by design of founder Stewart and his manager brother Miles Copeland, but the subject material was sharp and edgy in its observation of personal angst, societies under pressure and destructive politics. To The Police’s great credit, the messages booming out of the immense sound system are still as strong now as they were back then, covering everything from loneliness (So Lonely) to human rights violations (poignant photographs of children during Invisible Sun).
But the most lasting quality of this trio has to be its musical prowess. This was to be expected of three individuals whose backgrounds have evolved to excel in jazz (Andy Summers Trio), soundtracks and operatic scores (Copeland’s Holy Blood and Crescent Moon) and Elizabethan era music of melancholy (Sting’s interpretation of 16th century composer John Dowland.) Nevertheless, the decision was made to stick as closely as possible to the original sound of The Police, keeping Copeland’s rich rhythmic complexities, Summers’ exquisite rock solos and Sting’s brilliantly layered bass accompaniment and vocal superiority. This makes the band sound fresh and recognizable at the same time, with all the advantages of 21st century technology and visuals to create a blast of a show.
Especially Stewart Copeland reigns supreme within his elaborate yet grounded drum set, raising the musical plateau even further when taking gems as Wrapped Around Your Finger and King of Pain to ethereal levels on his percussion rig. The man is truly in his element and gives 100 percent at every instant. Showman Sting seems to relinquish his usual front spot to give his band mates the attention they deserve, but is undoubtedly the cardiac epicentre of this body. Andy Summers has aged well, to say it with suitable British understatement, and serious glances of rock-god concentration give way to broad and tellingly infectious smiles. As an icing on the cake in Paris, the three were joined on final encore Next To You by Corsican Henri Padovani, the band’s original guitarist before being ousted by Summers.
It’s clear the band is having the time of their life on this long overdue reunion. As a comfortable bonus, each may well walk away with $50 million at the end of this tour, not counting the additional income from Best Of compilations, memoirs, lyrics and photographic book sales, DVD’s and other merchandise. But these are not the only records being broken. To be a true fan these days almost requires being a millionaire. Regarding the tour as an opportunity of a lifetime to see their favourite band live again, hard-core fans are visiting over 10, sometimes 20 performances on this tour. With ticket prices ranging from €67 to $250, if not above, this is a steep investment by any account. Add to that travel and accommodation expenses, not to mention a $100 fan club fee for access to 4 pre-sale tickets, and you’re looking at digging well into your pension fund.
That’s all very well for a reunion tour that might be their last. But what if, and Andy Summers has already indicated the door is open to this, there were to be a new album? Then the whole thing starts all over again. Perhaps promoters would be so kind as to consider dropping the cost next time round. At the end of the day the fans are a band’s lifeblood, and judging by Paris alone, a full stadium resounding with eyoh’s on Walking On The Moon, and choruses of CHA! on Can’t Stand Losing You/Regatta de Blanc, there’s a lot of them.
Flight of the Conchords manager Murray, Episode 12
In the early summer of 2005, driving back into the Hellenic capital with impressions of Sting’s Broken Music Tour concert still fresh in my mind, a sense of nostalgia hit me. Not mine necessarily, but that of the Englishman whose on-stage renditions of Roxanne, Message in a Bottle and the Punk anthem Next To You hit home a sense of longing for days gone by. He may not have been conscious of it at the time, but below the surface three people were simultaneously sending out an S.O.S.
“With Sting’s memoirs out,” I concluded a review of his Athens show, “Andy Summer’s One Train Later on the way and Stewart Copeland’s home movies of The Police years collected in the documentary Everyone Stares, maybe the time has finally come for the old mates to get together again for one penultimate tour?”
So when one morning late last year the jazz-bassist-turned-Punk-Rocker-turned-pop-renewer-turned-lute-player suddenly rolled out of bed and thought “What would surprise everybody now? What would surprise me?” the logical conclusion came to be a phone call to his manager. “I want to get the band together again.” By February the 13th 2007, a day after The Police opened the 49th Grammy Awards, the whole world knew that one of the most influential trios of the 70s and 80s were back together again. A special fan club concert in Vancouver kicked off the world tour on May 27th, a tour that is setting a fair bunch of records in highest grossing tours and sold-out venues.
Last weekend The Police were out in full force in the French capital Paris. Inside the majestic Stade de France, 80.000 people gathered on both nights to see the blonded bandidos de do do do their thing, while outside every conceivable police division made their acte de presence, on horseback, on scooters, in riot gear, and as gendarmerie. One wondered what they were there for. Did they expect a bunch of 30-somethings to go near-ballistic like in 1981 when The Police turned up 4 hours late at a gig in Le Bourget due to heavy snow? Were they using the show as a training exercise for the Rugby World Cup later that week, or has this show of force become the daily norm in President Sarkozy’s security state?
The early days of anarchistic Punk behaviour, both the bands’ as that of their fans, have long passed. The Police may only have started out as Punk band by design of founder Stewart and his manager brother Miles Copeland, but the subject material was sharp and edgy in its observation of personal angst, societies under pressure and destructive politics. To The Police’s great credit, the messages booming out of the immense sound system are still as strong now as they were back then, covering everything from loneliness (So Lonely) to human rights violations (poignant photographs of children during Invisible Sun).
But the most lasting quality of this trio has to be its musical prowess. This was to be expected of three individuals whose backgrounds have evolved to excel in jazz (Andy Summers Trio), soundtracks and operatic scores (Copeland’s Holy Blood and Crescent Moon) and Elizabethan era music of melancholy (Sting’s interpretation of 16th century composer John Dowland.) Nevertheless, the decision was made to stick as closely as possible to the original sound of The Police, keeping Copeland’s rich rhythmic complexities, Summers’ exquisite rock solos and Sting’s brilliantly layered bass accompaniment and vocal superiority. This makes the band sound fresh and recognizable at the same time, with all the advantages of 21st century technology and visuals to create a blast of a show.
Especially Stewart Copeland reigns supreme within his elaborate yet grounded drum set, raising the musical plateau even further when taking gems as Wrapped Around Your Finger and King of Pain to ethereal levels on his percussion rig. The man is truly in his element and gives 100 percent at every instant. Showman Sting seems to relinquish his usual front spot to give his band mates the attention they deserve, but is undoubtedly the cardiac epicentre of this body. Andy Summers has aged well, to say it with suitable British understatement, and serious glances of rock-god concentration give way to broad and tellingly infectious smiles. As an icing on the cake in Paris, the three were joined on final encore Next To You by Corsican Henri Padovani, the band’s original guitarist before being ousted by Summers.
It’s clear the band is having the time of their life on this long overdue reunion. As a comfortable bonus, each may well walk away with $50 million at the end of this tour, not counting the additional income from Best Of compilations, memoirs, lyrics and photographic book sales, DVD’s and other merchandise. But these are not the only records being broken. To be a true fan these days almost requires being a millionaire. Regarding the tour as an opportunity of a lifetime to see their favourite band live again, hard-core fans are visiting over 10, sometimes 20 performances on this tour. With ticket prices ranging from €67 to $250, if not above, this is a steep investment by any account. Add to that travel and accommodation expenses, not to mention a $100 fan club fee for access to 4 pre-sale tickets, and you’re looking at digging well into your pension fund.
That’s all very well for a reunion tour that might be their last. But what if, and Andy Summers has already indicated the door is open to this, there were to be a new album? Then the whole thing starts all over again. Perhaps promoters would be so kind as to consider dropping the cost next time round. At the end of the day the fans are a band’s lifeblood, and judging by Paris alone, a full stadium resounding with eyoh’s on Walking On The Moon, and choruses of CHA! on Can’t Stand Losing You/Regatta de Blanc, there’s a lot of them.
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