Album Review: Sting - The Last Ship

Those who have the ability to forget that Sting was once a dynamic vocalist who wrote some ferociously good pop songs may enjoy his latest album, The Last Ship  (Cherrytree/Interscope). For everyone else, this effort, his first after a decade-long sabbatical in the classical ranks, should find it among the British legend’s most tiring and tedious. Ostensibly dealing with the decline of the shipbuilding trade during the 1980s’ in the city of Sting’s birth, Newcastle, England, The Last Ship finds Sting serving in the role of a minstrel. And in that capacity alone he does quite an admirable job, too, as he capably conjures moments of dramatic, eloquent storytelling, often enough in spoken-word passages. 

Besides, the problem with the album isn’t its script, so to speak, but rather its soundtrack. 

For the most part, Sting sings/speaks over some indiscriminate strumming—some brief orchestral flourishes also surface from time to time—the words coming across as far more considered than whatever sense of a tune carries them. Pop music (if that’s what you want to call this) may not be the right medium for telling these sorts of tales or, more to the point, Sting doesn't pull it off as he should. As demonstrated by even the most literate-intensive singer/songwriters, from Leonard Cohen to Joni Mitchell to Bob Dylan, the music must possess some engaging quality in and of itself, whether it’s a chord structure or a chorus or even just a hook. Otherwise, it’s just prose with some ambience. 

The album’s not a lost cause completely, as solipsistic love songs “The Night The Pugilist Learned How To Dance” and “I Love Her But She Loves Someone Else” evoke the sort of romantic longing that would’ve complemented The Soul Cages or Ten Summoner’s Tales. Overall, though, The Last Ship lacks the musical intrigue that could’ve made what may very well be an evocative tale into an album worth listening to.

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Song Review: Sting - 'And Yet' (2013)

Sting is at a point in his career where he can follow whatever mood or muse he so desires. Such is pretty much what he has spent the last decade doing, too, with left-field explorations in lute (Songs From the Labyrinth), seasonal lore (If On a Winter’s Night...), and orchestral adaptations (Symphonicities) broadening the contexts of his artistry. That said, Sting is now set to return to mainstream pop with his soon-to-be-released LP, The Last Ship, which for fans of his most definitive music should serve as reason to rejoice.

However, if the album is characterized by songs like his newest single, “And Yet,” don't bother. At first it almost sounds like latter day Steely Dan if not for it lacking any hint of swing or groove, sort of like smooth-jazz schmaltz. Perhaps it will complement the narrative arc of The Last Ship—the album ostensibly depicts the decline of the shipbuilding trade during the 1980s’ in the city of Sting’s birth, Newcastle, England—but as a song in its own right it’s a bland, unremarkable effort.

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The Resurgence of The Police: Live In Tampa, Florida

The Police, 7/11/07 (photo © Donald Gibson)

It didn’t feel nostalgic. It felt electric and immediate, the sound and the synergy combustible at any second. On July 11, 2007, a capacity-crowd within the St. Pete Times Forum in Tampa, Florida witnessed the resurgence and the enduring vitality of the Police.

Sting, Andy Summers, and Stewart Copeland took the stage to a roaring reception, kicking off with “Message In A Bottle” before running roughshod through “Synchronicity II” and eliciting an audience sing-along to “Walking On The Moon.”

The energy and enthusiasm of the crowd seemed to encourage levity among the notoriously temperamental band. Sting engaged the audience often, trotting around the stage to countless camera flashes, casually chatting between songs, and exchanging knowing looks with his band mates. Summers and Copeland, likewise, genuinely appeared in high spirits.

The band was at its best when it took a few chances to breathe fresh life into some of their most familiar radio singles, like “De Do Do Do De Da Da Da” and “Wrapped Around Your Finger,” the latter featuring Copeland deftly switching back and forth between a riser of auxiliary percussion and his Tama drum kit.

Some risks weren’t worth taking, though. “Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic” sounded erratic throughout, thus bewildering those attempting to sing along. Also, “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” dragged with muddled bass, a far cry from the dexterous original on 1980’s Zenyatta Mondatta.

Fortunately, such instances were rare, and thereafter the band fared much better on “Walking In Your Footsteps” and “Can’t Stand Losing You,” which segued into the title track of Reggatta de Blanc. An extended version of “Roxanne,” rock’s most recognizable ode to a prostitute, closed out the main set under a flood of red light.

No less than three encores followed, featuring “King Of Pain,” “So Lonely,” “Every Breath You Take,” and “Next To You.”

While all of the performed songs ranged in age from twenty-four to thirty years old, the concert did not feel like a reminiscent event. Quite the contrary, it seemed like the Police reconvened as a relevant force, and in Tampa, perhaps as in other towns on their current tour, they punctuated their collective career with one emphatic exclamation mark.

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