Nothing Like The Sun: 1987/88

Sting delivers expected thrills, but no more...

Being brilliant bears a burden, particularly when it comes to being a pop master like Sting. Anticipation often runs so high, as it did for the 19,000 fans who packed Lake Compounce on Sunday night, that in the end, a sense of lingering disappointment, of unfilled expectations, can't be erased.

Yes, the 19-song, two-hour show was solidly entertaining. But Sting, who ranks with today's heavyweights of pop music, somehow has to do more. Sting uses innovative and intelligent weaving of reggae and rock - first with the Police and now on his own - adding jazz touches and Third World beats.

Fronting an enthusiastic eight-member band, Sting, with long, loosely pony-tailed hair and dressed in blue, concentrated mostly on material from his 1987 album, '...Nothing Like The Sun'. 'The Lazarus Heart', 'Be Still My Beating Heart' and 'Rock Steady' all rode the same Sting-made musical wave with their bobbing rhythms and plenty of soft horn blowing by Branford Marsalis. Those mid-tempo songs, none of which crested, but rather slithered along, set the night's often-controlled mood.

Sting enjoyed reworking older songs, giving them new interpretations. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. He successfully turned 'When The World is Running Down' into a Prince-like jam, complete with slamming keyboards and percussions. But he failed on his hodge-podge run-through of the Police's 'Don't Stand So Close To Me', trying to mesh the song's original up-beat Caribbean flavor with the band's 1986 syrupy slow remix version. Not a good idea.

Sting not only reworked songs' sound, but their attitude. He took the serious call for world peace of 'One World' and turned it into a fun dance number. Then, by dedicating his former Top 40 dance single 'Set Them Free' to Nelson Mandela and all the children in South African jails, he whipped the song's once throwaway chorus, ''Free, free. Set them free'' into a strident political battle cry.

As a songwriter, Sting has often celebrated painful topics. At first with the Police he centered on lost love and loneliness. His closing, and by now familiar accoustic, 'Message In a Bottle' still carried an authentic hurt with it. Recently Sting has sung of the powerless and oppressed of the world.

'They Dance Alone', an empathetic ode to Chilean women who dance for the sons, husbands and fathers who have ''disappeared,'' sent chills up the spine as Sting sang, ''Can you think of your own mother dancing with her invisible son?''

But, like 'Message In a Bottle', which ended as a feel-good clap along, Sting sang with hope in his heart of a fruitful future for the lonely women: ''One day we'll laugh in our joy. And we'll dance.''

Those moving moments were few however, and Sting was content to deliver the expected goods. While that in itself is a triumph, the untapped potential could not be ignored.

(c) The New Haven Register by Eric Boehlert

Sting takes the stage, and (almost) every little thing he does is magic...

During Sting's last tour, he was out to prove a lot of things.

First, that he could assemble the finest American jazz artists to back his distinctive pop and come out with something entirely new.

Second, that he could tour without the Police, with whom he had al- ready conquered the world.

Third, that he could tour without any Police songs-or at least as few as he could get away with (since his first solo album didn't fill a whole set).

By the time the tour for his new solo album came to Connecticut Sunday night, before an estimated 20,000 in Lake Compounce Festival Park's biggest night to date, he didn't have much more to prove.

So he could relax on stage, still eke out an inventive ensemble sound from the slightly altered band and even bring some of the old Police material back without worry.

In long, blond hair, gathered in a ponytail in the back, and wearing black pants and coat (over bare chest), Sting seemed in especially good humour as he began the chilly two-hour set with the sweet sounds of 'The Lazarus Heart' from the current 'Nothing Like the Sun' album.

It is the alto sax of Branford Marsalis that brings the sweet sound to that song in particular, and much of Sting's recent work in general. He and keyboardist Kenny Kirkland are the sole holdovers from the remarkable Blue Turtles band in 1985.

In that tour, despite all the pressure of performing without the Police, the concerts actually outshone his fine album, with each tune taking on a marvellous new life of its own. It still happened on this tour, but to a lesser extent. Kirkland's only real showcases, for example, were a top-notch extended solo during a medley of 'Bring on the Night' and 'When the World is Running Down', a highlight from the last tour as well.

He played nearly everything from his new album, which provided the highlights - such as the moving 'They Dance Alone' - and some of the show's lulls.

Still, the songs seemed superbly arranged for the stage, with the Spanish guitar of 'Fragile' linked to his remake of 'Little Wing' with a quote from another Jimi Hendrix song, 'Voodoo Chile'; and a solo by guitarist Jeff Campbell in 'Little Wing' effortlessly shifting to a Marsalis solo by sharing the same high note.

Many of the surprising Police hits, from 'King of Pain' to the encores 'Don't Stand So Close to Me', 'Every Step You Take' and the acoustic 'Message in a Bottle', were relatively straightforward in approach.

By now, Sting knows he doesn't have to change everything in order to have a strong concert.

(c) The Hartford Courant by Roger Catlin

Sting takes crowd on aimless ride...

Everything old - well, almost everything old was new Sunday night as former Police-man Sting brought his revamped sound to the sell-out crowd at Lake Compounce Festival Park.

Sting has gone his own way since the Police effectively disbanded several years ago, and his music has grown far beyond the rock and reggae sound of that post-punk trio. At least for the early part of his hour-and-45-minute set, as the songs drew heavily from world music and its wonderful melodies and polyrhythms, the growth was evident.

Later, unfortunately, Sting and his musicians seemed to get carried away with a latter-day fusion sound that wouldn't have been adventurous even in the mid-1970s. It had energy, but like a car revving in neutral, it just didn't go anywhere.

To simmering percussion, a visceral bass line and a heroic guitar chord, Sting took the main stage at Lake Compounce bouncing and jogging in place. His seven-piece band, which included top-drawer reedman Branford Marsalis, followed him through the highly accented jazz and funk that filled most of the evening.

There was the white reggae of 'I'm an Englishman in New York', during which Sting sang and smiled and for all the world seemed like a Rasta version of Frank Sinatra.

Sting projected his distinctive reedy tenor voice with assurance, and when he wasn't singing or joking with the audience, he led his cohorts on moonwalks and line dances.

Far too many moonwalks and line dances, that is. Sting's songs, even the powerful 'Set Them Free', which he dedicated to Nelson Mandela and jailed children in South Africa, left too much room for insipid guitar solos, free-form - as in "What key did you say it was?"- piano, and hazy noodling by others in the band.

The blond-haired, one-time teacher accompanied himself during several songs on acoustic guitar and a small keyboard. In 'Bring on the Night', he mixed his guitar playing with a jazzy-world music background for a sweeping effect.

When the jazz turned slow and cool, as in 'Consider Me Gone', Sting's music grew fascinating.

A moment later, it all came crashing down.

Yet, Sting seemed to enjoy it all, or at least he enjoyed the break from playing so he could prance or chase others around the stage. He was having such a good time he probably didn't notice that some people in the audience were wondering where it was all going.

Actually, it wasn't a bad idea to change the arrangements of his song to fit a different musical style. Sting attempted to infuse the beat of world music into his sound, and when it worked, it was a joy to hear. 'King of Pain', for instance, combined the best elements of old and new in an extended rhythmic middle section that grew stronger as it went on.

But much of the show just wasn't that exciting.

What it needed most was someone in the driver's seat, but Sting was happy just to go along for the noisy, aimless ride.

(c) The Record Journal by Jim Zebora