The Occasional Solipsist

In spite of the great deal of razzing and name-calling it has cost me over the years, I have made no secret of my fandom of arguably the world's greatest bass player, Sting.

The guy led one of the most popular rock bands of the 70's and 80's, has written some of the more prosaic lyrics in popular music, and has been a major force in raising awareness for issues such as third world poverty and the deforestation of the rain forest (before they were what all the cool kids were talking about – I’m looking at you Bono).

And there's not one song of Sting’s that I don't like. Well, maybe 'Rock Steady'. Sorry Gordon, but that song sucks.

I read an article by the aging rocker recently that he wrote back in '99, in response to his coming across some of his old lyrics, and in forgetting that he had written them, marvelling at how good they were. (The point of this diatribe will not be to further illuminate the man's enormous ego)

In the article, Sting makes a good point: He was cool. Really cool. The kind of cool that makes you want to be this guy. And why not? He's super rich, women adore him, he's still dining on that whole 'six hour tantric sex' rumour, and he lives in a castle. A castle for chrissakes! (Okay, for the very picky it's actually a 500 year old manor house, but close enough)

So what happened to him over the years? Personally, and for whatever its worth, I think his cool never left. It just mellowed a bit.

And the thing about my appreciation for this guy isn't any of those external things that have given him a permanent entry in the global lexicon. It’s the music that he's put out, both with The Police and without them. His music has always spoken to me in a way that few other musicians could.

I remember lots of times when I was a kid escaping into the Police’s music to get away from the harsh realities of my home life and all of the abuse that came along with it; almost forgetting everything else in the killer bass lines of albums like Zenyatta Mondatta and Synchronicity and the smooth jazzy reflections of The Dream of the Blue Turtles and Nothing Like the Sun.

And I can remember listening to albums like The Soul Cages and Ten Summoner’s Tales all the time when I was a dirt poor teenager living on my own, and even though I had plenty to feel shitty about, I could get completely lost in his spirited melodies and thoughtful lyrics.

And now that I am a completely neurotic, happily married father, I still like to listen to his stuff, old and new, and can’t help but get carried away. Hell I even liked Sacred Love so much that I went to see him in concert (for the second time) on his tour with Annie Lennox.

So imagine my enthusiasm when the news came out that he will be putting out a new album this year. Yay! Shout Police/Sting fans worldwide, including me. But like me, the shouting they will be doing will be of another kind entirely when they find out that

• a) Sting’s new album is based on 16th century lyrics
• b) the entire album will be performed solo, on the lute
• c) yes, I said lute

The whole tragic affair can be read about here.

I am not sure that even I can follow the guy on this musical experiment, and if I can’t I can’t imagine who can.

But if his days of being cool are now officially over (as the whole lute thing does tend to suggest), at least we’ve got over thirty years of great music to remember him by.

Check out Sting's article at theonion.com that started this whole thing in the first place.

Labels: music