The Police...
The Who are probably defunct, the Stones are embarrassing when they appear in the flesh. As a live act that can dominate very large audiences, the Police are now probably the best there is.
One of the things that surprised me again at Wembley Arena on Tuesday night was how few people it takes to perform all you need for a rock concert. The trio of not-so-young blond gods, scarcely improved by three girl singers, are musicians not to be despised, each providing an essential strand of the rock-reggae structure.
The stalking rhythms of Stewart Copeland's drumming; the jungle cries, reggae singing and spare bass patterns of Sting; and the still original, surging guitar breaks of Andy Summers are the real reason for the excitement generated. When these are combined with the equally simple menace of such lyrics as 'Roxanne' or 'So Lonely', the 'Every Breath You Take', effect is still powerful indeed.
The more elaborate songs are less obviously effective. Beginning with 'Synchronicity', the Police instantly raised doubts as to whether such complicated ideas could survive in the context of an opener at a rock concert, but the exercise marginally worked. The same thought applies to 'Invisible Sun' or 'Murder By Numbers', in which Sting berated the callousness of Mrs Thatcher, Mr Reagan, and fickle politicians generally.
But the persistent cleverness, their winning economy, did not which threatens to overwhelm get the upper hand. It was a concert with the fire of rock predominant and more for the heart than the head.
(c) The Daily Telegraph by Charles Clover
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