Blue Turtles: 1985/86

Sting goes solo at Jones Beach...

The form of a musical drama on stage isn't necessarily confined to a structure; presenting a coherent and stimulating entertainment doesn't require the sophistry of a Sondheim, the stage marks and measures of a Michael Bennett, the rhyming genius of a Tim Rice.

Unlike a staged play, the ebb and flow of a rock show is generally set by audience reaction to what it hears, which is why rock shows have ebbs and flows. We drink in the hits, lean forward for the familiar, and exhale when the artist indulges his fancy for those obscure B-sides; often the momentum is regained, but rare is the show in which it is maintained.

Sting's just-over-two-hour show was paced as perfectly and timed as neatly as a Borg-Connors match. He and his band - a marvellous band - are as adept as any Greek chorus in the set-up, execution and follow-through Sting's concepts and themes. The pyramid style risers at backstage and the mardi-gras colours what our companion described as "Miami Vice lights" - and Sting himself, hip-hopping and calling all the shots, added a chrome-bright patina to the performance that sparkled from even the far reaches of the beach theater.

This was drama, too, a tightness and tensile toughness that wired together these musicians; the music was the coil that bound them, and Sting the outlet valve, his voice an instrument as fine-tuned as Branford Marsalis' saxophone, as cutting and dominant as Darryl Jones' bass.

The theme was 'The Dream of the Blue Turtles', Sting's first album without The Police. In the liner notes, Sting wrote that "people have constantly referred to it as my solo album. Which of course is ridiculous." Indeed, the night was full of music from 'Turtles', and the music was an amalgam of all its makers - Jones, Marsalis, Omar Hakim on drums and Kenny Kirkland on keyboards.

The songs are laden with shadows and ghosts, sadness and love, but just when you start to think that maybe we are all pawns in Sting's crusader chess games, there erupts 'If You Love Somebody Set Them Free' or 'Fortress Around Your Heart'. 'Fortress' on stage was a gorgeous blend of band togetherness - if there is a wavelength for musicians, these guys were on it - and layered lyrics and evocative visions. Coming in the middle of the set, it could've been the showstopper for Act 1.

Because this show is such a set piece, interruptions are disruptions, although Sting very nicely picks his spots. When someone shouted, "I love you!" his cool took over. "You love me?" he asked. "How can you love me? You don't even know me.

They loved him anyway at the end, when Sting played 'Roxanne' and 'Message in a Bottle' accompanied only by his guitar, and 'Every Breath You Take' with the full band. Clearly, though, this was not meant to be an evening of Police hits, and, even without 'Roxanne', the concert would have come full circle.

After the show a group of folks at the Club G in the Garden City Hotel danced the night away while waiting for Sting; he had a room upstairs and rumours were that he'd stop into the disco for a visit. But Sting had already taken his curtain calls at the beach. Like all good actors, his exit was final.

(c) Newsday by Stephen Willaims