Sting – …Nothing Like the Sun (1987)

When I was in 6th grade, I once had someone take a photo of myself in which I tried to replicate Sting’s downtrodden pose on the back of this CD. For whatever reason that photo always stuck with me; for a guy who had it all he sure looked as though the entire weight of the world was on his shoulders. While looking in the mirror I guess I thought my hair was starting to look like his, so it came to mind. And I had a long jacket for winter. And a disposable camera which I determined was going to be used to the fullest. Every photo was to be a snapshot of my 12 year old life. I probably never even got it developed.

I say this mostly to drive home the point that I’ve lived with this album nearly my whole life. I remember that CD case very distinctly in my parents’ cabinet and eventually it made the move to my own little CD tower. The reason being that The Police were my very favorite band, so naturally, I thought I’d dig Sting’s solo stuff as well. But I really didn’t. And I kinda felt guilty about it, even though we were living through Sting’s peak uncoolness era – I mean sure, he’s probably even less cool now, but he’s not really a megastar the way he used to be. Back then, the other kids at school knew who Sting was, and the reviews were in: he sucked.

But Sting’s music was not for kids. The tempos are slow, the lyrics are heavy, and there’s a lot of jazz involved – not the fun kind of jazz either, but rather the sort that Squidward would play. I always figured “maybe you’ll like it when you’re older”. And at the very least I do now understand why Sting went in the direction he did, because I get how people fundamentally change over time. You weren’t getting another “Message in a Bottle” from the guy, but you could maybe hold out for another “King of Pain”. By 1987 it was clear that The Police were not getting back together; in ’86 they attempted to re-record their greatest hits for a new compilation album, but they only made it two songs in before realizing they hated each other a surprising amount. It’s just as well too, because a 6th Police album almost certainly would’ve been awful, making them one of the few bands that really did break up at just the right time. The Dream of the Blue Turtles still had that specter of The Police hanging over it – one of the songs was even a re-recording of an obscure Police tune – but on Nothing Like the Sun he was truly on his own. Sure, some of that jazz band stuck with him, but they feel way more like session men now. This is Sting as you know him today.

I probably would’ve been fine not hearing this album again, but a copy did pop up at my local shop so I figured I had to. I mean I haven’t heard this in what, two decades? More? I haven’t even heard most of the songs from it in that long, although as usual with Sting there are a few you just can’t avoid. That said, there’s one thing I still remembered about it – it’s got a killer opening track. ”The Lazarus Heart” has this unsettling tabla groove to it which nowadays I’d associate with Peter Gabriel. Sure, he wouldn’t have done that silly jazz progression near the end, but otherwise I think it’s up there with any of his stuff. Plus; an amazing vocal melody, genuinely creepy lyrics, and Andy Summers. Can you call an opening track a deep cut? If so, this is his best deep cut.

The other thing I remembered: Sting was apparently really into Latin music at this time. He even re-recorded half of these songs in Spanish. I guess that gives the album some life, particularly on the world-weary and depressing songs like “History Will Teach Us Nothing” and “Fragile”. There’s one on which this really works – “They Dance Alone”, a protest song against Pinochet’s deadly regime in Chile. This is one where getting older really has softened me because now when I hear it I start tearing up. Perhaps it’s having kids of my own, perhaps it’s the current situation in Gaza, maybe it’s just the song itself being so gosh darn pretty – whatever it is, it’s a reminder that sometimes Sting really can knock it out of the park. Even the people who he irritates the most (Stewart Copeland) have admitted that.

It’s at that point I’m thinking about forgiving this album. But there’s a problem: the second half is pretty bad. This is where the 2xLP version of this actually becomes useful, because after the first record finishes you can go “okay, that’s enough”. With the CD you can just stay where you are while horrors like “We’ll Be Together” and “Rock Steady” try to force your hand. I guess I can give the former a pass – “We’ll Be Together” was originally written for a beer commercial and apparently it took Sting only a couple of minutes to do it. But “Rock Steady”? Cutesy Bible songs always fall on their face and this one is about the dullest thing imaginable, to the point where it nearly saps all my goodwill towards the first half of the album. And it doesn’t get better from there – “Sister Moon” is boring as shit, the cover of “Little Wing” papers over everything good about the original (though some people really seem to like it, so take my opinion with a grain of salt), and “Secret Marriage” is barely a song. Only “Straight To My Heart” is worth saving, even if only because it’s at least upbeat. I’m telling you, he actually does Latin pop pretty well.

And so you’ve got about 30 good minutes here, which includes a couple of immortal singles which you probably don’t need to hear again. I mean you do have to give him credit for turning a song as odd as “Englishman in New York” into a massive hit, not to mention “Fragile” which sounds more relevant today than ever. But I’ve had enough of both for one lifetime, same as a lot of Sting’s songs I suppose. Hard to hate on the guy for being successful, not that we didn’t anyway. You have to wonder if Sting will ever get the sort of re-evaluation that Phil Collins did, or if spending his later years recording lute albums and collaborating with Shaggy (not on the same album, unfortunately) just confirms what we all thought about him all along. I’m not about to waste any more time defending Sting (is anyone still reading this?) but I appreciate the man trying to be something more. When you reach the stratospheric level of success that he did you generally come out the other side less human, but Sting did seem to realize that even those who’ve earned all the finest things in life have to grow up sometimes. If it means people make fun of you, so be it. Maybe they’ll catch up one day.