Well, due to a couple of hardware glitches, the Sly Stone business isn't complete yet, so this is what's known as Plan B.
The Police are up there as one of my favourite bands ever, for reasons unknown to even me. As a kid growing up in the UK, what can I say? I was swept up royally in the white ska/punk movement that gripped us through the Thatcher years, even though I was still a little young at the time. Bands like Madness, the Police and the Specials were big in my early days of music listening; when you're full of energy, it's impossible not to be swept up in the infectious enthusiasm, the stuttering, tireless beats, the vocal harmonies, and the furious tempos.
While Madness had the kooky brilliance of Suggs, and the Specials had the vocal power of Terry Hall, Lynval Golding and Neville Staple, the force of the Police was rooted in their focus. Madness and the Specials both boasted large lineups, while Sting, Summers and Copeland were a perfect trio, each acting as weighty contributors from their own respective experience.
Copeland was the dynamo behind the kit, Summers furnished the heavy artillery on his Telecaster, and Sting threw heat on the lower end [not to mention composing the bulk of their catalog].
Nothing more needed, nothing more added. Three people who made music on the same wavelength and who, for the most part, matched each other every step of the way.
[It is worth noting that I didn't get to see them on the reunion tour, thanks to the exorbitant ticket prices, but Silent K did, and I think he's going to follow this post up with his take on the show, along with his Top 6]
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Fall Out
Fall Out/Nothing Achieving 12"
Illegal Records : 1977
[Listen]
Really, where it all began for the trio. A short, sweet EP, of which this was the shining star. Punkish, aggressive, full of brio, and a good opening note to their frenetic catalog. A Copeland song from start to finish, it's 123 seconds of foot-on-the-gas, highlighted with Summers' fat guitar licks and Sting's piercing voice that became his calling card.
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Does Everyone Stare
Reggatta de Blanc
A&M : 1979
[Listen] [Buy]
This is Copeland's song, and sure, he only gets to sing that first verse before being relegated once again to backing vocals [not to mention he gets royally drowned out by that piano riff that opens the song too; Sting's stifling post-production, or just Stewart being shy in the spotlight? You decide], but it's a cool little song.
"I never noticed the size of my feet/until I kicked you in the shins" is a great fucking line, although I am still confused as to what the heck it means. The weird, off-kilter piano line, almost comic in its composition fits the sentiment perfectly, a long rant about feeling awkward around other people and starting to date. Copeland wrote the bulk of this album, and I always loved his lyrics more than Sting's, for their honesty more than anything else. It's an odd track, but one that always stood out for me. Being a kid who had to work hard to fit in and find his place early on, it always stuck out, and I always sympathized with the lead character, all strange and
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The Bed's Too Big Without You
Reggatta de Blanc
A&M : 1979
[Listen] [Buy]
This is where my obsession first began as far as the Police were concerned. I never knew it at the time, but the lyrics of this track would form a key part of my college years. [Sure, I slept on a futon from my sophomore year onwards, but hey, the analogy still counts] Having a girlfriend studying abroad in Maastricht for the better part of 8 months, forcing our relationship back to the almost-primitive letter writing campaigns and scheduled rotary phonecalls to her dorm building.
Sure, in the era of email, texting and the ability to track down yr loved one via GPRS this might seem quaint, but I guess 2002 is what it was. For the most part, it was alright, although the time difference meant most of our more meaningful conversations took place when the sun was rising in my world and her classes were almost done.
And so, this song took root. Copeland's patient backbeat timekeeping is filled in with Sting's plaintive falsetto and Summer's reggae-like power chord strumming.
Even though it was only a futon that creakily folded out into a twin bed, it was still too big without her through those fall months, and it consoled me to know that other people somewhere out there were facing the same difficulties decades before my own.
It was the perfect Police song, as it epitomizes the depth of their exploration into reggae while also nailing that plaintive, wistful tone that accompanied a lot of their lyrics. Pining for girls and loves lost, eons spent wondering what could have been, the incessant feeling of being the lonely outcast; this track hammers them home harder than any other.
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When the World is Running Down, You Make the Best of What's Still Around
Zenyatta Mondatta
A&M : 1980
[Listen] [Buy]
This is probably my favourite Police album, purely because it captures that era of music to a tee. The trio were discovering the early edges of the new wave, the sounds reflected in the spacious, echoing guitar riffs and crisp, uniform rhythm patterns. Reverbed, distorted basslines and a slice of emptiness between and 1s and 3s, where I imagine throngs of grad students dancing with discipline to the beat.
It's such a straight-up, angular song, complete with yet more obtuse lyrics from the man himself, and yet, after a few listens, it begins to make sense. Don't worry too much about the details, and just make do with the things that make you happy, no matter what anyone else says.
You can also apply that to the myriad dances that people did back in the day. At least they knew what Sting was talking about before bursting into their repertoire. Music-wise, it represents the cooler side of the Police; spacey, simple, and thoroughly addictive.
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Synchronicity II
Synchronicity
A&M : 1983
[Listen] [Buy]
Would this count as the first big hit on my Police list? [A lot of their songs that appealed to me most never would have grazed the charts, let alone topped them] This one was the big cheese for them, in many ways, as the rock and new wave influence took full hold and they shed their ska/reggae ways like a snake loses layers of scales.
This track had "big arena music" written all over it; a sense of being larger than the band itself. They crest through several bridges and b-sections between the unmistakable guitar line of the verses, into that almost-epic chorus, and a slow but steady emergence from the minor key into major chord magnificence.
When I first heard the song, I didn't understand the concept of "synchronicity", but I certainly do now; you can hear it in the grand crescendo of the bridge, inside Copeland's echoed, beefed-up snare hits. I hear it in the fact that it made the 80s edition of Guitar Hero, seemingly defining the Police for a generation of concertgoers that lived for the power of rock and its ability to absorb ideas from other genres in creating epic, huge pieces of music.
As the song gets out of control in its last minute, with a final iteration of the verse and Sting's repetition of the song's last line as the pressure builds, more layers are added, the guitars get stronger, Copeland's straight-up pattern withstands the volume and holds firm in the middle.
You can hear Sting hammering his bass notes for emphasis, and even though the album version fades out, you can shut your eyes and imagine it to be their show closer, with that last minute getting stretched out and reinforced interminably as the crowd goes wild, the lights flicker and get faster, and when they finally hit that last note, the applause engulfs them as they remain frozen on stage, letting their amps ring out before the doors open and the curtain goes down.
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Truth Hits Everybody
Outlandos D'Amour
A&M : 1978
[Listen] [Buy]
Almost three minutes of pure fire. The live version, some 30 seconds shorter and a hell of a lot faster, is also a stunner, but I still fall back to the LP version. Sure, it's a touch slower, but it is still as intense as things got on that entire album. The relative calm of the verse sections, as Summers restrains himself to that simple, catchy riff before exploding on the choruses.
This is as good as it gets for me, as far as their songwriting. It's dynamite waiting to go off, full of youthful angst and those weird, elliptical lyrics we all tried to write as teenagers clutching our Fender Strats and perching on the edge of our beds trying to duplicate what we could hear through the stereo. There are no bells or whistles, just pure energy; Copeland rides the cymbals through each change, complementing the fury of each chorus and clearly tiring towards the end.
It is perhaps my favourite Police song, for the simple fact that it doesn't get lost in itself and doesn't waste a single second. Music distilled to its elements, ones that never get old even if the band members do.
