The Police arrive in Roslyn...
By the time the Police finished their first song at My Father's Place Thursday night, there was one thing that almost everyone in the club knew: that they were un- likely ever to have the chance to see the best new rock and roll band of 1979 in such intimate surroundings again. If the breaks go right, this Anglo-American trio could be head-lining Nassau Coliseum this time next year. (There is standing room only available at the Bottom Line Tuesday and Wednesday.)
In its early show Thursday, the Police showed the ability to epitomize the stylistic definitions that they also transcended. It is a new wave band, with a hard-core punk following in England, yet it plays lean, melodic rock and roll, placing it in the tradition of the Stones, The Police Who, and Kinks.
But there's a difference, and that is in the Police's embrace of reggae as a primary source. Unlike so many other rock bands that slum with Jamaican music, the Police play reggae with both a sense of humour and unself-conscious confidence. On their encore, a reprise of "Can't Stand Losing You," lead singer Sting even borrowed a few riffs from Harry Belafonte's "Day- O," one of the first middle-of-the-road calypso (reggae's energetic first cousin) hits.
While drummer Stewart Copeland fluidly adapted the band's rhythmic core between rock, pop and reggae, and guitarist Andy Summers slashed his way across musical boundaries, the bass player and singer who uses the name Sting was the musical and visual focus. He has close-cropped, blond hair, but he looks more like Tab Hunter than Johnny Punk. His full-bodied, throaty vocals (a sound somewhere between Rod Stewart and Stevie Winwood) were done with the penetrating conviction of one who believes every word he sings, even if the lyrics don't happen to be any more profound than: "Roxanne, you don't have to turn on the red light."
There was, at times, more sub- stance than that. In the infectious 'Born in the '50s', which asserts the dubious superiority of youth, Sting sang enigmatically: "My mother cried/When President Kennedy died/She said it was a Communist/But I knew better." Later, in the same song: "We lost our faith and our grace, in the TV/and we should've known better."
Almost all of the songs were from the Police's debut album, "Outlandos d'Amour," a contender for best album of the first quarter of 1979. These included 'So Lonely', with its insinuating reggae start that accelerated into mellifluous pop; 'Hole in My Life', which sounded a bit like an update of a song by Traffic, and 'Roxanne', the steamy desperate love plea that is the most compellingly sexy since 'Miss You'. One new song seemed uncannily topical. The title was, apparently, Fall Out', and it could have taught Aerosmith something about how a driving hard rock song can also swing.
Sting's stage performance was another strong point, although he overplayed his enthusiasm for the locale. "Where's this club, Hempstead?" he asked early in the show. When the crowd yelled back "Roslyn" he said, "That's very important. I don't want to insult any- body." At every opportunity, he inserted a homey geographical reference. Sammy Davis Jr. couldn't have done it with any more false attention to extraneous detail. "Roslyn, Roslyn," Sting mused. "I used to have a girl friend named Roslyn." Oh, Sting. I bet you say that to all the towns.
(c) Newsday by Wayne Robins
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