The enormity of the Police’s success was a paradox, in a way: there was nothing grandiose or stadium-shaking in their music — no bluster, and precious little rock and roll. They were a trio, using intimate small-band dynamics to create a chilly, almost futuristic sense of space. Everyone who grew up in the ‘80s, fan or not, has a Police moment in the memory banks: a crystalline instant in which he or she was confronted with the haunting oddity of “Invisible Sun” or “Tea in the Sahara.” “My sisters and I/Have one wish before we die . . .” If you’re catching any of the shows on the reunion tour, you’ll have a chance to see if this oddity has survived the intervening years. I, meanwhile, will be working on my film script.
Scene two: the gang boss sits down in his grotto of sports memorabilia and Scarface posters, examines with clinical disinterest the tooth marks on his knuckles, and puts on “King of Pain.” He sighs, and then smiles. He’s going to buy a cat and name it Roxanne.
James Parker, who sometimes gets dizzy even walking in a straight line, can be reached at email@example.com
: Music Features
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