Tag Archives: Outlandos d’Amour

Rocks In The Attic #510: The Police – ‘Zenyatta Mondatta’ (1980)

RITA#510Album number three finds the Police starting to repeat themselves after the white heat of Regatta de Blanc. The big chart-slaying singles are still there, represented here by Don’t Stand So Close To Me and De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da, but the title of that second single betrays a lack of innovation throughout the record.

It’s all perfectly honed, finely crafted pop music, but there’s something missing. The artistic leap between debut album Outlandos d’Amour and their sophomore record seems a thing of the past, and here they seem to churn out more of the same rather than exploring new ideas.

I recently saw the Andy Summers documentary Can’t Stand Losing You: Surviving The Police (2012). It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, being a fairly history of the band intercut with their reunion shows in 2007-2008, and narrated by Summers reading from his awesome 2006 One Train Later biography, but it was entertaining enough.

The film spends a bit of time explaining how the band were really under pressure to record this album in a short period of time, and you can hear it, particularly in the album’s tired last couple of songs.

The recording sessions would also mark the first time that cracks would appear in the edifice of the band – Sting refused to play on Summers’ instrumental Behind My Camel, and even resorted to burying the tapes of the song in the garden of the recording studio in Holland. Summers had the last laugh of course, when the song went on to win the Best Rock Instrumental at the Grammy’s the following year.

I love many of Sting’s Police lyrics, but Don’t Stand So Close To Me features one of my favourites. It’s rare that a pop song will name-check a literary classic, but Sting drops a mention of Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita in the final verse – one of my favourite novels.

Hit: Don’t Stand So Close To Me

Hidden Gem: Voices In My Head

Rocks In The Attic #343: The Police – ‘Regatta de Blanc’ (1979)

RITA#343Good old white reggae, as the album title tries to tell us. I love the Police, but as much as I love the first album, it’s this album where they’re untouchable – one step closer to being the biggest band in the world. There’s an air of effortlessness about it all. For most bands, a song like Regatta de Blanc would be a demo recording, just a scrap of an idea – mostly instrumental with some indication of where the lyrics might go. In the Police’s hands, it’s turned into a fully realised song; one that would go on to win them a Grammy, no less.

There’s a great edition of Rock Goes To College, showing the band touring their first album in the UK. Their set is notable for including the first live performance of Message In A Bottle, before anybody in the audience had heard it – a standout, if not just for the fact that it’s my favourite Police song. Bloody hard to play on the guitar, impossible to sing in Sting’s vocal range, I love its final image of a solitary castaway – alone, but with a hundred billion other castaways.

Unfortunately there are hints of things to come on Regatta de Blanc too. Bring On The Night sounds like Sting making his first tentative steps towards his coffee-shop world music future. There’s traces of it on The Bed’s Too Big Without You too – middle-class poetry, all red wine and dinner parties. If I strain my ears, I can almost hear the yuppy conversations over some third-world cuisine.

On a lighter note, I’ve just done a frantic, white reggae dance to closing song No Time This Time for my one-year old. She thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

Hit: Message In A Bottle

Hidden Gem: Regatta de Blanc

Rocks In The Attic #105: The Police – ‘Outlandos d’Armour’ (1978)

Rocks In The Attic #105: The Police - ‘Outlandos d’Armour’ (1978)As far as debut records go, this has to be one of my favourites. It’s a little bit punk, a little bit reggae, and all wrapped up in a minimalist pop recording. People don’t tend to like The Police because of Sting’s later crimes against music, but I prefer to ignore his faux-bohemian noodlings and concentrate on his work in this band.

They’re just a perfect band: in Sting, you have a bass-playing, pop song-writing vocalist (with an unmistakable, high-register voice that’s very difficult to emulate); in Stewart Copeland, you have a jazz inflected drummer, who’s not scared to try something new (his timing and beat on Roxanne takes it uncharted territory for a pop song); and in Andy Summers, you have a slightly older guitarist (he played on stage with Hendrix, and counted The Animals as one of his former bands!), with a very progressive approach to chord progressions.

Those sort of attributes can sometimes weigh a band down – but probably because they’re all as equally talented, you don’t really hear anything too weighty or self-indulgent. I’ve heard David Fricke from Rolling Stone magazine say that after the assassination of John Lennon, the next big event in pop music to have a global impact on the youth of the day was when The Police split up in the mid-80s. Although they became a watered-down version of themselves on their later albums, you can understand, with this debut, how they made such an impact.

Hit: Roxanne

Hidden Gem: Next To You