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Rather amazingly, this is the same year as the previous Police gig, also recorded for the German Rockpalast TV show, as covered in my last post. But The Police are evolving, rapidly ascending the heights of Pop Olympus. They come onstage to a backing of Voices Inside My Head*, from their follow up to Regatta de Blanc, Zenyatta Mondatta.

Sting wears a Regatta de Blanc T-shirt, and plays an upright stick bass. Summers looks smarter, in a snazzy striped ‘sports jacket’ and white T-shirt. Stewart Copeland is striped and very sporty, and now has a more plush drum throne, with back support! The venue is waaay bigger. Hamburg was a medium sized theatre, Essen looks like a stadium.

After Don’t Stand So Close To Me, from their new album, Zenyatta Mondatta, and Walking On The Moon, from Regatta de Blanc, Sting swaps back to his normal electric bass, and they kind of go punk Bo-Diddley, on Deathwish. They’re definitely looking and sounding that much more like pop stars. And it’s the same year as the previous neo-punk-jazz onslaught!

Copeland still drives the band with the same ferocious energy. They still jam out a lot, but it feels slightly more restrained. At least at first. They’re still playing one or two non-album oddities, like Fall Out, and Sting is adding synth touches via what might be a Moog, and what look like Taurus pedals.

Man In A Suitcase is the next live workout for a number from Zenyatta, their latest release that they were touring to promote at this time. Whilst this still has some of the upbeat energy of their earlier era, it’s also more brightly melodic.

When they get to Bring On The Night the change from the previous performance seems more pronounced. This time it’s not quite as manic nor intense. I think this is partly due to the scale of the venue; the sound is more diffuse in a bigger space. But the performance also differs, being more restrained, less wild. It’s interesting to see how they work at building the tension under Andy’s guitar solo, in a way that differs massively from the album version.

They go into the double-time frenzy, as they did previously, on the Hamburg gig, but it works a little less well. This is partly due to the muddy wash of delay on Copeland’s kit, and partly, again, because it’s made more woolly and diffuse by the sheer scale of the venue. I’ve always preferred theatres and smaller venues to stadiums, for gigs. Stadium concerts are more about money than music, as far as I’m concerned.

Things come into a sharper focus again for De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da (memorably desscribed by Steve Coogan’s Alan Partridge as their ‘nonsense anthem’!). The newer, slicker, more pop Police sound and style are coming to the fore now. It’s still intense, but smoother and decidedly less spiky. Any punky rough edges are gradually being worn away.

Sting’s bass once again is noticeable at times for the very approximate tuning. It being live things are a bit more forgiving. In the studio they’d never have let such sloppiness pass.

The Truth Hits Everybody is a track from debut, Outlandos d’Amour, and a brief and energised nod to their roots. After which the upright bass comes out for another Zenyatta track, the spooky and much more mellow and moody Shadows In The Rain (which is apparently about hard drug use!). This song would be totally reworked for Sting’s solo debut, Dream of the Blue Turtles. But here it presages the type of soundscapes that would eventually come to dominate The Police’s final album, Synchronicity (Tea In The Sahara, Walking In Your Footsteps, King of Pain, etc).

When The World Is Running Down was and still is a favourite of mine from Zenyatta. The weird juxtaposition of rather joyful music with the maudlin post-apocalyptic ruminations of the lyrics are, well… unusual! Sting gets a bit funky at one point in the jam section/guitar solo, playing a high register lick on the bass, and supplying the low-register via his pedals.

The Bed’s Too Big, rather like Bring On The Night, suffers a little, to my ears, from the translation into a much bigger venue. I think the band’s performance is very similar to earlier in the year, in the main. But the larger space soaks up and dissipates the intensity. I think if you were at the gigs, these numbers may well have retained their magic, or even intensified it, with the extended jam or improv sections. These are two of my definite favourites in their album versions.

Driven To Tears is a monster track on Zenyatta, partly cause it’s a great song, but also because Copeland’s drumming gives it an added edge. Here the most striking thing about it might be the sudden appearance of overtly socially-conscious lyrics from Sting. It’s not the first instance of this, just the most overt and strident. The trio give it a real powerhouse workout on stage.

The Police then neatly segue into, and play their way out, on a string of what, by then, were the hits that had turned them, and were continuing to turn them, into mega-stars: Message In a Bottle, Roxanne, Can’t Stand Losing You (with a bit of Regatta de Blanc by way of intro), before closing with a spirited medley of Next To You/So Lonely.

The contrast in the two concerts of the same year is quite striking. In Hamburg they’re a slightly punky band, excited at their ascent, and blasting their music through the more intimate venue with astonishing power. By the time they arrive in Essen they’re fully fledged pop stars, and the big ‘production’ in a huge venue, whilst superb, and undoubtedly more ‘mature’, also loses a whisker in the intensity stakes. This is partly due to the evolution of their songs and overall sound, and partly the scale of the gig.

Both concerts are excellent, and they are (or were?) available together on a combined DVD package (see accompanying pics). Hearing these concerts sends me back to the original albums. What a band! These two terrific films capture The Police scaling the heights.

PS – Thanks to a pal, who gave us tickets to see The Police when he couldn’t go – thanks buddy! – Teresa and I saw them during their 2007 reunion tour. It was a good gig. But the old intensity wasn’t quite there. Andy Summers in particular was showing his age (and of course he has passed away now). And it was in a bigger venue than I like. We were actually behind the main stage, and quite high up.

* The background intro version sounds like a synth n drum machine demo? It’s certainly not the studio/band version, which benefits from a terrific drum performance from Copeland.

For stuff like this YouTube is great. I wonder how long it’ll stay this way?

This gig finds the Police in their high-octane early incarnation, quite neo-punk, in terms of energy. It’s more confusing than appearances might suggest though, as they are, essentially, a power-trio. Quite a rock-mongous beast! But whereas most power trios would have an axe-wielding guitar-hero, Any Summers is more art-rock weirdo, and the instrumental star is really Copeland.

Sting is, well… Sting, bankably good looking and charismatic (as Andy Summers wryly observed from the get go), with a brilliant voice, song writing skills to die for, and seemingly born to the role of frontman. Not in an Elvis or Ozzy way, but just by being himself. Fantastic!

Personally I love their mellower side, the first real sign of which is the mesmeric Bring On The Night. It’s still way more pumped than the Regatta de Blanc album version. But the ethereality and the melancholy of the Sting aspect of the group is allowed to simmer and come to the boil wonderfully.

Also very notable is the jazz-prog side of the group, not in overt ‘genre’ terms, but in the fact that songs are frequently allowed to breath in extended passages of improvisation. For example, in Bring On The Night they go into a totally intense double time blast variant that I’ve not heard on any other performances.

Also very intriguing are tracks like Fall Out and Visions of the Night, which are not part of The Police’s album canon. But when they return to the more familiar material, with Bed’s Too Big Without You, they go into a blinding cosmic über-jam that finally resolves back into the song. And the go waaay out! Astonishing!

One of them, Sting, I think, is triggering some synth effects, and Copeland’s drums often get treated to washes of dubby delay. so they generate a massive sound. And this despite not having a conventional lead spanner of a guitarist. Summers can cut loose with the blues rock style thing, as he briefly does on a Bullet train from Japan version of Peanuts.

This is a young band, riding the crest of their burgeoning stardom; btheir energy is super intense. I think Stewart Copeland is a very large part of this. And what a monstrous driving drummer he is! His kit, like his his playing is unique. His use of hi-hat and tide so much more expressive than the average rock/pop drummer. And his fills and use of odd accents, literal splashes of sound, and the octobans and roto-toms, all add up to a unique voice in driving seat.

Roxanne is also put through the extended-improv wringer. The German crowd are wigging out. And who could blame them. What a performance. Even the rather approximate tuning of Sting’s bass can’t put a dampener on proceedings.

Aha! As the Partridge used to say. Back of the net! Etc. Actually this is trash. Total trash. But it’s the kind of trash I’ve been rooting around for.

The trouble with a lot of modern American films is that they’re populated with the most disgusting abominations of sub humanity imaginable. Rather like Trumpist America itself. A cesspool of self-interested armed aggressors.

It’s therefore kind of appropriate that ‘they’ – the gang that starts the movie by butchering a family who return to find said gang robbing their home – kidnap a monster even more depraved than themselves, who then serves ‘justice’, American style, i.e. sadistic ultra-violence, upon them.

The film starts, you might say ‘cleverly’, but I think that’d be misplaced, with the ‘final girl’ scene, as Emma (Adelaide Clemens) – the human McGuffin of the movie – runs through the woods. Flynn (Derek Magyar) the most repellent of the gang, becomes a kind of macho substitute ‘final girl’. Or is that role actually reserved for Denny (Beau Knapp)?

Luke Evans is The Driver, a sociopathic and psychopathic mass-murderer and kidnapper, with a trailer full of kill-kit and a babe in both passenger seat and boot. The former may be the latest in his Stockholm Syndrome experiments, the latter is Emma.

America is unwell, this sort of product is a symptom of the disease. And yet, decadent and hypocritical as this may be, it is kind of entertaining. Oh, humanity… I would weep for us all… but I’ve been all cried out for some time now.

One of Mel Gibson’s favourite, or at least most common roles, is the self-righteous and enraged everyman, wronged and out for truth and vengeance. He’s so macho he steamrollers over all politesse and BS.

Airdrop him into a high level conspiracy and, well… it’s all a load of convoluted bollocks, frankly. In terms of believability the plot here is fairly preposterous.* But in terms of the fun we might have, watching Mel G punch his way through concrete? That’s, possibly, another matter.

The film starts with with Craven, Gibson’s character, meeting his near as damn it estranged daughter, at the airport. A cop, Craven is unhappily married to the badge, and lives alone. He takes hisdaughter, clearly ill, is pallid, vomiting regularly, and clearly troubled in mind. Just when we think she’s going to open up about what’s ailing her, she’s blown away, on the doorstep of Pop’s home. It’s assumed this is an attempt to kill Craven, gone wrong. But is it?

I’m not a fan of Ray Winstone, or ‘Wockney cankers’ in general. His presence here put me off watching this on several occasions. His role is to be the Yin to Gibson’s Yang, the devil to his angel. Mind if devils and angels are essentially the same, and basically just hitmen/butchers… hmmm!?

Also, in typical US casting style, Brits, posh or working class, are almost always ‘baddies’. There’s an almost hilarious twist here though, as Jdward… er, sorry …Jedburgh (Winstone) is a faux-mystic/intellectual assassin, who likes cigars and quoting poetry – what class! – and other ‘eyebrow’ literature. But, surprise surprise, he’s at his most eloquently candid when he says is with bullets.

A slightly odd supernatural/spiritual thread runs through the film, also connecting Gibson’s and Winstone’s characters. But the unifying theme underneath all of it, is death. America loves death. This film loves death.

Is it any good? Myaah… is it enough fun to warrant watching? Just about. Hardly a hearty recommendation!

* Mind you, if we all knew the horror of what really goes on in the corridors of power it might make the most insane plots seem entirely plausible.

As a drum teacher working in various schools, I’m frequently faced with the need to power gadgets of various kinds: from the guitar amps I use, to bring backing tracks, metronome etc, to a level that competes with the drums, to iPhones and iPads for the apps and music, and so on.

I‘ve gradually switched from ‘hard’ (paper!) copies to PDF files for a good deal of my teaching materials, over the last two or three years. It lightens the physical load. But it can be bad if devices conk out, and power can’t be sourced.

This latter point also raises the spectre of the online connectivity issues. Schools often make it harder for visiting music peri’s and the like to access online services than for their own full time staff, with changing visitor passwords, and sometimes blocking sites or apps that music lessons might benefit from access to.

Anyway, I very rarely post on’t blog about work. Indeed, this might be the first such occasion!? I thought I’d put on record, for my own benefit, an unofficial summary of how I’m doing such stuff at this point.

The accompanying pics are from a school that’s only recently been built, and as yet only has pupils from year groups 7, 8 and 9. So it’s a new and growing institution.

When I first started teaching here, I was in a tiny boxy music rehearsal room. Par for the course. But not the best space for drum lessons (far from the worst tho’, either). But as of Sept’ ‘21, I’ve been giving my lessons on the swanky stage of the shiny and pristine new theatre/auditorium. Nice!

It’s a bit echoey – big space, very high ceiling, reflective surfaces – but softened a little by hooooge curtains. And all black. So very ‘pro stagecraft’ in look and feel. Esp’ with the fancy lighting rigs over-head.

The little extension pictured above now travels with me to all my schools. It would be a bit better, if it had a rather longer lead. But it does bring three ordinary plugs and two USB type (?) connections closer to me, wherever I may be sat.

For amplification I have three options, of which I will generally always have two: first, a Bluetooth ‘boom-box. This is good for listening to stuff when not actually drumming. It’s not quite loud enough to compete with an acoustic kit, however.

The other of the essential pair is a guitar amp. I have a Fender 15W and a Roland Cube 15W. They both play up a bit here and there. And they also have different aux inputs: the Fender has a phono pair, L and R, whilst the Roland just has a 1/4” stereo jack socket. Both are fed audio via either an iPad or iPhone, via a (?) stereo jack.

Both amps can be unwontedly noisy, and both are, especially with loud music and heavy hitters, only just loud enough to work well when teaching drums on acoustic kits. All the kits are I teach on are beginner level quality acoustic sets. I’m soooo glad none of them are cheapo e-kits!

I far prefer acoustic drums and cymbals to electric gear. The only e-kits I’ve tried and liked are the very top of the range ones from Roland, in the £3-5,000 area.

Essentially a court room drama, A Few Good Men is also a David vs Goliath type thing, and a reassuring sop on American idealism vs establishment corruption.

As entertainment it works pretty well: Cruise is as charismatic as ever, as cocky young US Navy lawyer, Daniel Kaffee. We want him to win, and he does. It’s well directed, by Rob Reiner, and it captures certain aspects of US martial and civic culture rather beautifully; from the precision choreography of the US Marines in the opening scenes, to various moody shots of beautiful locations.

As docu-drama it’s pure fantasy. Reassuring feel-good fantasy, in which arrogant corruption is humbled before the law. Demi Moore’s role is a bit weird, nearly but not quite Cruise’s love interest, and more the voice of his conscience. Kiefer Sutherland and Jack Nicholson are solid as the ‘villains’.

Kevin Bacon is Cruise’s legal adversary, for the prosecution. The heart of the film is about whether or not Cuba Gooding Jr and his accomplice are guilty of murder in the death of fellow (and unhappy/unsuccessful) Marine, Santiago, who dies during an unofficial but sanctioned ‘Code Red’.

Issues of pragmatism vs idealism, and loyalty vs independent thinking are part of the meat of the plot. But it’s such a prettily shot star-studded affair that any moral heft is rinsed out in a celebrity glare. And the denouement, whilst narratively satisfying, is total hokum.

Not a great film, but enjoyable Saturday evening fare…

I recently visited our pal Patrick, who’s having his bottom blacked. The marina he’s at is on my route to work. So I’ve popped in to see him a couple of times.

I can’t recall exactly what day this first visit was. But it shows his boat, Impulse, out of the water, prior to the work. Or more accurately as the work gets started.

Pat’s living on the boat whilst the work is carried out. You can see the guv’nor of the marina at work to the bottom left of this photo.

Here’s a view of the business end, prop, rudder, etc. You can see the circular pattern of the cleaning pads in the upper band of the hill.

This looks rather pretty. But it’s not how it should look. As we’ll see later.

Another view of the waterline wear. Interesting abstract patterns. But degradation of the metal looming. Re-blacking the bottom will protect and extend the life of both the metal and the boat.

Visit number two was on Friday 1st October.

I didn’t know what these doodads were. Pat told me they’re sacrificial anodes. He explained what they’re for. But I still wasn’t 100% clear on what they did, how, and why, etc. I found this:

By definition an anode is an ingot of sacrificial metal attached to the underwater hull of a narrowboat or canal boat which corrodes due to electrolysis more readily than the hull and propeller. Magnesium anodes are used for boats in fresh water. Aluminium anodes are used for boats in brackish water. Zinc anodes are used exclusively in salt water. (Found here.)

As a jazz-bo, I think Pat should repaint his boat, and change the name to look like the Impulse jazz record label design. So his boat would still have the same name, but would also proclaim Pat’s live of jazz to those in the know.

Something drawn from or combining various aspects of the above logo variants might be pretty cool!

Well, this is the end of my Jobim solo album series, for now. I don’t currently have Passarim (‘87), Antonio Brasileiro (‘95) or Minha Alma Canta (‘97). So there are a few gaps to be filled at some future date. But I’ve written up brief pieces on 11 of his 14 solo albums, plus a number of others from his collaborations (I’ll be filling in the remainder of those blanks as well, in time). It’s been fun listening to all these great recordings again.

An absolutely stunning collection of twenty-four pieces by Tom Jobim, ranging from richly orchestrated band renditions, to incredibly minimal arrangements. From the familiar bossas (albeit often heavily reworked) to his less familiar ‘chanson’ style piano ballads.

This was for years a limited private pressing. Only ‘going public’ after Jobim’s passing. There are parallels with his fantastic 1980 recording, Terra Brasilis, for which Claus Ogerman supplied arrangements. On this later recording – 1987 – Jobim uses the same musicians (friends and family!) that recorded his official ‘87 release, Passarim, with Jacques Morelenbaum supplying arrangements (and cello!).

Another notable feature is how, more than on any other Jobim album (at least that I’m aware of) he steps back from the mic’, sharing lead vocal duties with Paulo Jobim, Danilo Caymmi, and several female vocalists (including Paula Morelenbaum, Jacques’ wife, and his own wife and daughter!), and even occasionally rendering the vocals as richly harmonised chorales.

An utterly sublime recording. Essential for any real Jobim aficionado.