Nothing Like The Sun: 1987/88

Sting continues to defy labels as his lyrics turn to romance...

Wednesday's rock concert at the Erwin Center never really got off the ground, but the show put on by Sting and his crew of talented sidemen was a dynamic and engaging substitute.

Sting, a.k.a. British schoolmaster-turned-rocker-turned-film-star Gordon Sumner, has played Austin at least five times, moving uptown from Club Foot to the Meadows and the Erwin Center. But in the past, Sting's sets have always provided a heavy ratio of hits to album tracks that kept the crowds bop- ping in the aisles. 

This time, the emphasis was on romance, and as a singer-songwriter, Sting is a seducer without peer in the pop arena. While his new band plays funk- and-grind music as well as any of its predecessors, the languid and introspective tunes from Nothing Like the Sun are the main attraction now, and Sting is almost un- recognizable as the fellow who first played Austin as a member of the Police.

If relationships with women are the lyrical focus of the record, the focus musically is on what can only be described as Stingmusic. It's too commercial to be considered jazz, it's more complex than rock or reg. gae, and too mature to be called pop. That gives headaches to people who want to pigeonhole him as a media star or the fellow who wrote Roxanne and Every Breath You Take, which won a Grammy for song of the year several years back. He didn't play either tune Wednesday. As an artist constantly searching to re-invent himself, the chameleonic Sting may prove too smart for all of them.

Sting dispelled any criticisms that his music is contrived or his behaviour studiously mannered, opening with 'The Lazarus Heart', then immediately diving into last fall's pop-funk hit, 'We'll Be Together'. His tribute to Quentin Crisp, 'An Englishman In New York' followed, setting more of a cerebral tone for the show. Only after 'Rock Steady', a somewhat transparent song dealing with Noah's Ark and religious fervour, did Sting speak to the crowd. After admitting it's not nice to kick a man when he's down, he savagely mimicked Jimmy Swaggart denouncing Sting's 'Murder By Numbers', then delivered an inspired reading of the song.

'Straight to My Heart' and 'One World is Enough' featured instrumental workouts by the band, who seemed relaxed and eager to play throughout. Sax virtuoso Branford Marsalis seemed more a part of this band than the one that toured supporting Sting's 'Dream of the Blue Turtles', providing moments less busy and more emotive. Kenny Kirkland layered jazz-based piano phrases over Sting's melodies, and Delmar Brown brought down the house in 'Consider Me Gone' with a nimble vocal-keyboard solo.

After intermission, Sting returned with the best song from the record, 'They Dance Alone', a tribute to the Argentine women who grieve for their husbands and sons who've been arrested and held without trial. Although the giant screen video was a real boon for the show in general, the tape that rolled during this song was the emotional climax of the show. Sting and band were shown in a concert sequence in Argentina, where the actual relatives of "the disappeared ones" clasped hands on stage with him. 

There were hits, too. 'Set Them Free' was delivered without the rancour of the studio version, but suffered little; 'King Of Pain' and 'Fortress Around Your Heart' were sturdy recreations, too. 'Don't Stand So Close to Me' was delivered '80s style, although only Sting seems to prefer it that way, and he closed several encores with acoustic numbers, among them 'Home On the Range', the theme from 'Bonanza' and a sing-along version of 'Message In A Bottle'. He again thanked Austin for playing his first record back in 1978, and mused aloud about why he felt so good to be here. "To kids in England," he said, "America was always like... heaven."

(c) Austin American-Statesman by Kevin Phinney