Thursday, July 12, 2007

The Police

We saw The Police last night.

We'd been told by several people that they SUCK, this time around. Some people complained that they "can't jam...they only played things exactly like on the record. Why go see them, if you can listen to them at home and it sounds the same?" We'd also been told, by other people, obviously, "they didn't play ANYTHING the way it was on the CD. It was all re-mixy and weird."

So, Hubby and I kind of went into last night's concert expecting The Police to find some way to really disappoint.

We also were told that the seats we had were some of the worst seats in the St Pete Times Forum. That, basically, ANY seats would have been better than the ones we blew outrageous sums of money on. So, we figured, "Well, if they suck, at least we won't have to look at them."

We were told that parking was impossible.

We also were given about 6 different sets of directions, each of which had no connection to the others, so we pretty much assumed we'd miss half the show.

And then we got there. About 10 minutes before the Police came on. We breezed into a parking place. We settled into our seats, AND THEY HAD MOVED THE STAGE, so it was directly in front of us. We had some of the best seats in the house, except for those first couple rows on the floor.

And The Police, they ROCKED. They were flippin' awesome. They played just about everything we wanted to hear (though I could have used Murder by Numbers, and Hubby spent the whole night screaming "SYNCHRONICITY!!!!!!!" like Sting was going to look up, wave at him, nod, and say, "You know, man, you are absolutely right, we'll play that one next."

Some songs were very much like we remembered them from when I was a teenager and too young to attend concerts. Which was terrific.

Some songs were very UNlike those memories. They'd play a few notes, and then we'd realize, OH MY GOD! I LOVE THIS SONG! and it was a new, totally cool thing.

Sting was, well, Sting. Sting is great. There is a REASON he only needs the one name.

Stuart Copeland was fucking fantastic. Hubby said he was a little less energetic than twenty years ago, but honestly I couldn't stop watching him. Just terrific.

And Andy Summers? I admit, with a few notable exceptions, I usually don't notice guitarists. I am, as a rule, all about bass and drums. Perhaps that's why I loved The Police so much, as a teen, and still do---it's bass and drums, and, oh, yeah, they have a guitarist, too. And he was good, last night.

But, you know...

If you're going to be on the Jumbotron...

And they're going to zoom in on your hands, while you play leads...

And you're not 30 anymore...

Maybe you should wear a pair of gloves to cover up those liver spots.

We stayed long after the show ended, hanging out in the suite with my brother in law's friends. Fun guys, and I think they are going to come see Hubby play here in Indian Rocks Beach, later this week.

By the time we got out of the suite, all the vendors were packing up. Since they are just wage slaves, and none of them owns the company, they refused to sell us a t-shirt (and for $35, I want my t-shirt to come with Stuart Copeland IN it, not just his picture ON it, but that's a different story). They refused to sell us a poster. So we left.

You know, the elevator had posters, too. Free posters.

And so we went outside, looking for The Police, hoping they'd sign our poster. No sign of them. We did, however, find a member of Tampa's Finest. And he signed it for us.

Nothing beats a stolen poster, except maybe a stolen poster autographed by a cop.


ALF said...

you're in Tampa??? I used to live in Tampa...all of the posts labeled "Florida" on my blog talk about my time's a nice place to visit but totally different if you actually live there...

Christine said...

Yes, we are here for the next few days. My brother in law is kind of The King of Tampa, so we always have a real blast, when we visit.

He lives in Tampa, and has a beach house in Indian Rocks Beach--that's where we're staying. So we're bouncing back and forth between Tampa and Indian Rocks.