If Sting had the flu so bad The Police had to cancel in Philly, he needs to market that cure ASAP.
He was in fine voice and delivered energetic, complex playing as he led his tight little trio through a refreshed romp across 30 years of rock history. Indeed the arrangements of radio staples were so radical they challenged the packed arena to listen again to the songs that had them in Uptown on a chilly Thursday night.
In fact, I’d wager that Sting and company gave 90 percent of the audience their closest ever brush with jazz. Not pointless noodling mind you, or all Kenny G-style Splenda. Rather familiar melodies and hooks deployed in new or slightly skewed tempos.
Drummer Stewart Copeland was clearly having a blast with the shifting beats, even as he had to nimbly jump between his kit and a massive percussion pod. At times the physical effort combined with his wire-rimmed glasses, black head-band, and mop of gray hair had Copeland looking like a hip professor at Spinning class. But the sound was amazing.
Sting seemed geniunely surprised by the crowd’s loud response at times and clearly fed on the energy. But for me the star of night was Andy Summers. He ripped off a blend of side-ways fusion riffs and whammied solos that were edgier and more metallic than anything in The Police’s catalog. At times he reminded me of his sometimes 80s partner Robert Fripp, but more grandpa and less math nerd. Guitarists half Summers’ age — that would be early 30s — would have trouble topping the performance.
Overall the sound was good for a venue that seems to challenge sound engineers and the visual presentation was crisp and not overwhelming. Far from an oldies celebration, this show featured three top-notch musicians pushing themselves — and their fans — beyond the past.
Bonus Observation: Travel time ticker, 30 minutes from leaving the doors of the arena to home driveway past Providence and 51.
