Ghost In The Machine: 1981/82

The Police aren't selling out...

The Police are at the point in their career at which it may be convenient for those who were among their more idealistic early supporters to cry "sell-out," but I don't think that's a fair response. The band has made the transition from being new wave-associated insurgents to staples of superstar radio, and from shows at My Father's Place (three years ago) to arenas such as Nassau Coliseum (Tuesday night), without sacrificing the originality or vitality that has made the group and its four albums so attractive.

That is not to say that the Police haven't made the surfaces of their music more easily digestible for mass appeal. The lyrics of their songs, for example, were never complicated ("Roxanne/you don't have to turn on the red light"), but there was verbal enigma. The moments that generated the most excitement at Tuesday's enthusiastically-received, sold-out Nassau Coliseum show (they are at Madison Square Garden tomorrow night) were those in which the key lyrics included phrases such as 'Da Doo Doo Doo, Da Da Da Da' (from the song of the same name) and "yo-oh-oh- oh" (from 'Walking on the Moon').

The depth of the group's musical capabilities goes way beyond these bubblegum epiphanies. Although the band's latest album ('Ghost in the Machine') de-emphasizes the previous reliance on reggae for more vaguely multi-national rhythms (calypso, Arabic music, rhythm and blues and Latin touches can all be heard in the Police's melting pot), Tuesday's show brought Jamaica's renowned rhythmic export front and center.

The Police don't play reggae quite like anyone else. In fact, while most pop artists who use the rhythm (from Paul McCartney to Paul Simon, for example) simply water it down, the band has been the only one to embellish it, to maintain a sense of authenticity while expanding on reggae's potential. While the heart and function of most reggae is a sultry, syncopated minimalism, the Police opt for maximalism: Their reggae is loud, hard and fast, but it still has soulfulness and poise.

By amplifying and elaborating this music, the Police do for reggae what legendary power trios such as Cream and the Jimi Hendrix Experience did to blues in the 1960s. Though for this tour the group has added horns and a keyboard player, the Police is essentially a trio. Unlike its 1960s predecessors, however, neither bassist-vocalist Sting, nor guitarist Andy Summers, nor drummer Stewart Copeland engages in shoboating virtuosity.

Instead, the fierce concentration of their ensemble playing helped make even the most sugary songs ('Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic', 'Da Doo Doo Doo' and 'Bring on the Night') avoid engaging in condescending teen sentimentality. And some tunes, such as 'The Bed's Too Big Without You', 'Can't Stand Losing You' and 'Walking on the Moon', have as much freshness and character as anyone in either rock or reggae is able to express in an unashamedly commercial pop song these days.

Aside from the novelty appeal of five mini-skirted girls playing goofy pop, I hadn't thought there was much more to the Go-Gos, who played an opening set Tuesday night. But their feisty, well-disciplined performance nearly stole the show. Belinda Carlisle provided a much-needed lead singing/visual focus on 'Cool Jerk' and 'Our Lips Are Sealed'. And this group of once-erratic former amateurs has learned to play with the kind of striking power that makes them certain to become the Ronettes of the 1980s.

(c) Newsday by Wayne Robins