Mercury Falling: 1996/97

An audience with the cream of the crop...

With his new severe slap-headed tonsure and eco-warrior black combat fatigues, it seems as if Sting has taken his recent trip to Vietnam as the cue to single-handedly bring back the Apocalypse Now look.

Hair, or rather the absence of it, was uppermost on everyone's mind at the Albert on Friday. "What do you think of it then?" Sting asked. "You look like Bruce Willis," retorted a fan. "Bruce Willis dreams he looks like this," responded Sting. And so on.

The current Sting-lite image also entails him acting like a chat show host. For 'I'm So Happy I Can't Stop Crying', three completely willing accomplices were plucked from the crowd to audition as backing vocalists. One overly keen fellow called Smith proceeded to do his utmost to upstage the star turn by leaping over the drum riser.

But watching members of the public chewing the scenery soon palls as a spectator sport and it was a relief when the band returned to their roles as classy MOR jazz-pop sidemen and Sting stopped being a school teacher.

In balancing the soft focus West Coast flavouring of his 'Mercury Falling' disc with a standard set of oldies, Sting was beholden to a combo in which keyboards player Kenny Kirkland reigned supreme.

By contrast, his long-term guitarist Dominic Miller was under-employed for long periods, especially during those arrangements featuring the ubiquitous London Community Gospel Choir. Their sugary vocals and hand-jive movements added to the impression one was at a Cliff Richard concert by default.

For all the levity, there were moments when Sting put his steel toe-capped boot down. The ever popular 'Roxanne' and the cool, clipped 'An Englishman In New York' were recognisably Sumneresque, although 'Every Breath You Take' lost all its stalking urgency in its new jazz-flecked guise.

(c) The Evening Standard by Max Bell