I’ve watched docs on The Police where the band’s career was laid out in detail.
In contrast to those relatively comprehensive stories, I have only one up-close-and-personal interaction data point concerning the guys in The Police.
On the day I showed up to produce the TV feature documenting the band’s return to Austin, to play their homecoming show, the guys had played the night before somewhere (Dallas or Houston) and had ridden to Austin in the middle of the night, on their tour bus.
Andy and Stuart showed up on time for the interview. They looked like they’d just rolled out of bed, hair messed up, yawning, but sporting friendly smiles and handshakes. After we got them mic’ed up and situated at a table, we waited. And waited. And waited…for Sting to show up. Almost 30 minutes later, he finally did, scowling, with radical bed hair, saying not a thing to anyone. Still, I got him mic’ed and we started the interview.
The first questions touched on their early days: how they met, formed the band, other contextual stuff for viewers who might see the piece but would have no idea who these guys were.
With the preliminaries out of the way, when my questions transitioned to the band’s music – particularly the question about their style, “Why the West Indies beat?” – Sting perked up with a jolt.
He hadn’t responded to other questions, while Andy and Stuart were totally chatty and happy to talk. But when the questions turned to the why of their music, Sting never shut up again, and the other dudes never said another word.
Sting was intense, expansive, and animated in his explanations of the musical influences of Police songs, which, of course, he wrote. His demeanor and engagement in the interview changed completely, giving me far more tape than I needed for the piece, but I wasn’t about to stop him. Tape is cheap. What he was saying sure as hell wasn’t.
At the end of the interview, we took the lav mics off of the guys, and Andy and Stuart were again smiling and handshaking as they left the room. Sting brought up the rear, not having said another word since we stopped rolling. As he was walking past my camera and tripod, he stopped suddenly and pivoted 90º to face me. He looked me in the eye and extended his hand. Surprised, I took it, and he said, “Thank you.” Then he turned and walked out.
Granted, this is but a tiny blip in time of an experience, but it was clear to me that Sting takes music extremely seriously, and he apparently appreciated it when others did as well.