Sting 3.0

Sting at the Munich concert: "Sing with me, please!"

Sting doesn't need much to thrill the fans at his concert in Munich's Olympiahalle. He has enough hits in his repertoire – but a sing-along echo every now and then would be nice.

What all isn't brought to life at concerts? Lifting platforms, laser shows, pyrotechnics, massive screens, and after the third costume change, the confetti cannon explodes. But on this evening? Nothing. Sting simply stands on stage, plucks the bass and sings. And he still sounds as unmistakably good as he did with The Police. And the British singer doesn't even have a microphone in front of him, just a headset on his head.

But he doesn't need more than that; Sting has enough hits in his repertoire and fans in front of him to play his way through the evening in a relaxed manner. Guitarist Dominic Miller and drummer Chris Maas, who usually plays for Mumford & Sons, accompany him. With this three-piece, Sting returns to his roots, as his former band, The Police, was also a power trio.

Their sound was inspired by punk and reggae, and they later experimented with jazz elements. After all, Sting was once a jazz musician and English teacher before embarking on a global career. He has long since estranged himself from his former bandmates Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland; the band split up in the late 1980s, and even a reunion tour in the mid-2000s failed to reunite the three permanently. Sting is currently being sued by his colleagues for unpaid royalties from "Every Breath You Take," one of the most played radio songs of all time.

Sting also included it on his setlist at the Munich Olympiahalle concert, alongside other Police classics such as "Message in a Bottle," "Can't Stand Losing You," and "So Lonely." He plays a mix of Police songs and solo hits for two hours – and the fans adore him. Three offbeat chords and the New York skyline on the screen are enough to get everyone to their feet and sing along to "Englishman in New York." Quieter numbers like "Shape of My Heart" or "Fields of Gold" take on a more reverent feel, with a couple swaying arm in arm and a woman dabbing tears from her cheek.

Sting doesn't need much to win over fans. A few "thank yous" and a "we're happy to be here" is all he'll say that evening. He doesn't need to, but it's still endearing when he recounts a little anecdote. About how he stayed at the Munich Hilton Hotel in 1980, pacing up and down the room, pondering, with that one bass riff in his head. "I opened the curtains and saw a big, fat moon in the sky. Then I suddenly knew what the song would be about," he says, launching into "Walking on the Moon."

Few words; he prefers to let the music speak for itself. Perhaps also to protect his voice, he repeatedly places his hand on his chest, because the songs aren't easy to sing, especially old Police hits like "Roxanne" or "Every Breath You Take." Sting was in his mid-20s when he wrote it; now he has to work hard to reach the high notes, but he holds the notes, masters every run, and even starts a little lower as a precaution.

In general, he seems quite agile on stage. Sure, his gait is stiffer than before, and he occasionally sits down briefly on a stool. But the man recently turned 74, his arms are well-trained, and his voice still sounds distinctive and powerful. And when he does need reinforcement, he motivates the fans. "Singt mit mir, bitte!" he calls out in German, and an echo of "E-yo-oh" echoes through the Olympiahalle. He repeatedly includes the fans.

Sting knows what he's doing. He's been on stage for almost 50 years; as a solo artist and frontman of The Police, he's sold around 155 million records and won 17 Grammys. He doesn't have to prove anything anymore; he comes across as authentic and approachable. The sound isn't smoothed out either; only a sample is played during "Desert Rose." The rest is handcrafted and sounds simply good, also thanks to the pleasant volume. At large concerts, this volume is often turned up too much, leaving a mush of sound. But with Sting, the sound sounds coherent, apart from one small, charming outlier. The drummer starts banging away, testing it, and Sting winces, points to his ear, then to the mixer, and everything is levelled.

Sting stands there, in jeans and a T-shirt, the worn bass in front of him. He doesn't change his outfit or his instrument. Only once, when he plays the quiet number "Fragile" as a farewell, does he swap his bass for an acoustic guitar. And what remains is the feeling of having experienced a truly good concert. A concert that's just about music. Nothing more, nothing less.

(c) Augsberger Allgemeine by Felicitas Lachmayr

Superstar Sting teaches a lesson in pop history...

Just like here recently in Los Angeles, the 74-year-old Sting presented himself in top shape at Munich's Olympiahalle. Thanks to "vanity and discipline," as he revealed.

Wiry, muscular, obviously in top shape, and above all, with a great voice: Sting presented himself at the Olympiahalle just like in the old "Police" days.

Guitar, drums, and a singing bassist - wasn't there something? That was the minimalist line-up of The Police, arguably the most influential and successful new wave band of the late 1970s and early 1980s. Their frontman, composer, and mastermind Gordon Matthew Sumner, better known as Sting, remained on the road to success even after the relatively early end of the chronically quarrelling band and is now part of the elite ranks of pop superstars. For his Munich comeback at the Olympiahalle, he returns to the classic trio line-up and, in the broadest sense, also to the Police cosmos.

The return to the past, under the tour title "Sting 3.0," most likely has biographical reasons: As we age, we tend to revisit our youth in a romanticized way. However, Mr. Sumner doesn't look his 74 years: Aside from his long-lost hair, he is living proof that a musician's life pays off with yoga, a healthy diet, and exercise instead of drugs and other excesses. He presents himself as wiry, muscular, obviously in top shape, and, above all, with a great voice.

In this way, they effortlessly handle a two-hour, 20-song program without breaks. Enriched by a few less popular solo pieces (musically outstanding "Never Coming Home") and a new song, all of the Police's big hits were included. From "Message In A Bottle" right at the start, to a rocking "Driven To Tears," and "Walking On The Moon" - which Sting said he wrote in 1980 at the Munich Hilton Hotel in his only longer announcement - to "Every Breath You Take" at the end and "Roxanne" as an encore. The fact that these songs weren't a knockoff but rather exciting was thanks, in addition to the rather good drummer Chris Maas, to Dominic Miller, "my right hand" since 1991, as Sting says. Miller's magnificently virtuosic and versatile guitar playing can replace an orchestra.

Naturally, the whole thing was a complete nostalgia bath. And Sting knows very well how to structure the songs, as well as the concert dramaturgy, most effectively. At times, it wasn't just the older crowd that was moved; you could see many hugging each other and even shedding a tear. Although he started out with a punk and reggae attitude, Sting was always an anti-rebel, a pop intellectual. The trained teacher, who was an early supporter of Amnesty International and later founded the Rainforest Foundation, was never unfamiliar with music theory, was one of the first to set Dowland's poems to music, and enjoyed surrounding himself with jazz musicians. Now he gathered his students once again for a lesson in pop history.

(c) Süddeutsche Zeitung by Oliver Hochkeppel

Hard biceps, soft songs: Sting at Munich's Olympiahalle...

The star seems to be struggling with his early Police work: Sting plays his hits quite comfortably at Munich's Olympiahalle. The concert review.

Munich – Stop, the boss wants to say something! "I've just thought of something," Sting chats during his hit "Walking on the Moon" – and guitarist Dominic Miller dutifully slows down his seventh chord with a suspended fourth. Drummer Chris Maas dutifully keeps the reggae beat. "I wrote the song in Munich, in 1980 in the Hilton Hotel," Sting tells the sold-out Olympiahalle. It was boring, and he paced around the room drunk. "Out in the sky, there was a big, fat full moon." Big, fat moon, walking around the room – what does that make? That's right: a song.

Great art can emerge from banality when a pinch of genius is involved, that much becomes clear. What you also sense in the audience that evening, however, is that Sting has an ambivalent relationship to his early work. He knows that people came precisely for the classics he recorded with The Police. But he plays many of them noticeably subdued, as if casually. In "Can't Stand Losing You," he expels all his punk power - he's 74 years old, not 17, so you don't want to pretend you're about to kill yourself. And in the middle section of the encore, "Roxanne," he completely transitions into jazz lounge. He surely also knows that he wrote "Walking on the Moon" in 1979, not 1980. But it was all so long ago and somehow it doesn't matter.

Where Sting is truly at his best on this greatest hits program are his solo pieces and the understated Police compositions. One remembers what an intense song "Mad About You" is. Sting's throaty tenor hasn't aged a year: The way he slips into falsetto at the end of "When We Dance" induces goosebumps – and frenetic applause.

And speaking of age: Gordon Sumner may be 74, but the tanned ascetic with the close-cropped hair and steely biceps is the Dorian Gray of pop music – it's as if his worn bass guitar is aging in his place. He takes the stage for "Message in a Bottle" in a simple white T-shirt, as if he'd just gotten up from his yoga mat. Sting doesn't sing into a microphone; he's wearing a headset, making him sound like a motivational speaker on a pull-up bar. The tour is called "Sting 3.0," and it sounds like the ultimate in self-optimization.

But it also means, of course, that he's returned to the trio format - only this time he's chosen accompanists with whom he's not constantly at loggerheads: Maas drums with precision, and Miller plucks with the restraint of a true expert. He carries the melodic brunt, and the way he switches between sophisticated accompaniment and solo is impressive. It's certainly good if the singer could carry a song like "Fields of Gold" on his own. However, his boss knows how to prevent Miller from coaxing a few dirtier tones from his guitar here and there. Transparent, airy jazz-pop arrangements dominate.

No wonder the audience, who were blown out of their seats by "Englishman in New York," are now, one after the other, back on their feet: The songs are top-notch, albeit all at the same leisurely business-class pace, and soon, in all the educated, bourgeois comfort, you're wishing for a bartender to pour you a "Cosmopolitan." Sting circumvents this pitfall with a trick he's perfected: He enriches the songs with sing-alongs, with an astonishing range from "Hey-yo!" to "Yo-ho!" to "Hi-yey-oh!". It gets your pulse racing again.

(c) Merkur by Johannes Löhr

A journey through time in business class - Sting plays his hits quite comfortably at Munich's Olympiahalle...

Hold on, the boss wants to say something! "I've just thought of something," Sting chats during his hit "Walking on the Moon" – and guitarist Dominic Miller dutifully slows down his seventh chord with a suspended fourth. Drummer Chris Maas dutifully keeps the reggae beat. "I wrote that song in Munich, in 1980 in the Hilton Hotel," Sting tells the sold-out Olympiahalle. It was boring, and he paced back and forth drunk in the room. "Out in the sky, there was a big, fat full moon." Big, fat moon, walking around the room – what does that make? That's right: a song.

Great art can arise from banalities when a pinch of genius is involved, that much becomes clear. What is also noticeable in the audience that evening, however, is that Sting has an ambivalent relationship to his early work. He knows that the crowd has come precisely for the classics he recorded with The Police. But he plays many of them noticeably more subdued, as if casually. On "Can't Stand Losing You," he strips out all his punk power—he's 74 years old, not 17, so you don't want to pretend you're about to kill yourself. And in the middle section of the encore, "Roxanne," he completely transitions into jazz lounge. He certainly also knows that he wrote "Walking on the Moon" in 1979, not 1980. But it was all so long ago and somehow it doesn't matter.

Where Sting is truly at his best on this greatest hits program is in his solo pieces and the stripped-back Police compositions. One remembers what an intense song "Mad About You" is. Sting's throaty tenor hasn't aged a year: The way he slips into falsetto at the end of the song "When We Dance" gives you goosebumps – and frenzied applause.

And speaking of age: Gordon Sumner may be 74, but the tanned ascetic with the close-cropped hair and steely biceps is the Dorian Gray of pop music – it seems as if his battered bass guitar is aging in his place. He takes the stage for "Message in a Bottle" in a simple white T-shirt, as if he'd just gotten up from his yoga mat. Sting doesn't sing into a microphone; he's wearing a headset, sounding like a motivational speaker on a pull-up bar. The tour is called "Sting 3.0," and it sounds like the ultimate in self-improvement.

But it also means, of course, that he's returned to the trio format - only this time he's chosen accompanists with whom he's not constantly at loggerheads: Maas drums with precision, and Miller plucks with the restraint of a true master. He carries the melodic brunt, and the way he switches between sophisticated accompaniment and solo is impressive. It's certainly good if the singer could carry a song like "Fields of Gold" on his own. However, his boss knows how to prevent Miller from coaxing a few dirtier tones from his guitar here and there. Transparent, airy jazz-pop arrangements dominate.

No wonder the audience, who were blown out of their seats by "Englishman in New York," are now, one after the other, back on their feet: The songs are top-notch, albeit all at the same leisurely business-class pace, and soon, in all the educated, bourgeois comfort, you're wishing for a bartender to pour you a "Cosmopolitan." Sting circumvents this pitfall with a trick he's perfected: He enriches the songs with sing-along parts, with an astonishing range from "Hey-yo!" to "Yo-ho!" to "Hi-yey-oh!". This gets your pulse racing again.

And by the time the unbreakable "Every Breath You Take" hits the fan, the hall is on its feet. Even with the best will in the world, Sting can't pull the strings from "So lonely" – there are even subtle attempts at pogoing. But then the boss puts the brakes on again: In the end, he grabs the classical guitar and sends the crowd home with the beautiful “Fragile” – on nylon strings, of course.

(c) OVB Heimatzeitungen by Johannes Lohr