For those curious, the show was amazing.
The Police took us back in time to 1983 and made me feel like a teenager again. Andy Summers was able to coax perfect notes and riffs from guitars that must be older than me; some of them were wooden and their paint had been worn off long ago! Sting's voice was right on the money; he hit the notes with absolute precision and inserted even the ad-lib bits in the same points that they appear on their albums. In many respects, Stewart Copeland stole the show. While he is not only the drummer for the band, also supplying a healthy dose of percussion instruments in a variety of songs, he also oozed energy and that was infectious.
Just the three of them on stage made me stand in amazement. These days, when you see bands tour, they add percussionists, additional vocalists, keyboards, synthesizers and digital remixers and all the bells and whistles that they supposedly believe enhances the music as performed on their albums. None of that. This was The Police in all their glory. And they were stupendous. They replicated their music with perfection.
And then I marvelled at the gear and layout. Everything right down to the ripped white muscle shirt that Sting wore, the jacket-style shirt Andy had on, and the trademark headband that Stewart sported screamed 1980s. But did you really believe they would have done otherwise?! I thought not. And it added to the charm and nostalgia of their stage presence.
Off the top of my head, I can tell you that they performed Roxanne, Every Breath You Take, De Doo Doo Doo De Dah Dah Dah, Don't Stand So Close to Me, Invisible Sun, Wrapped Around Your Finger, Synchronicity, Every Little Thing She Does is Magic and more of their classic hits.
In fact, a treat for you. This is hubby's filming of King of Pain. Enjoy.
*I should clarify, hubby bought tickets in the 2nd row of the 100 level section of seats, not directly on the floor. Quite all right by me; this way I was JUST above the heads of everyone on the floor in front of us. It afforded a lovely view. Except of course for the semi-drunk middle 50s man in front of us clapping wildly. Oh well. We still had a marvelous night!