Holy love, cultivated instincts - A mature Sting in Stuttgart's Schleyerhalle...

Next door in the Daimler Stadium, at VfB Stuttgart's home game, it had just been a riot, a synchronized swell of emotions that spilled unchecked over the steaming stadium bowl. Cheers, commotion, hoarseness. In the Schleyerhalle, on the other hand, things are comparatively civilized and refined. Hardly anyone there is under thirty; with a few exceptions, a reserved appreciation of what is on offer seems to dominate, a restrained enjoyment, a cultivated attention. Is this really a rock concert taking place here? Opinions about Sting are divided. In any case, he, who recently turned 53, seems to have trained his audience to listen – which is no mistake. No, there are no cheap fireworks, no provocative dance numbers or elaborate lighting effects to distract, and no cheap jokes from the stage. Universal love has been declared the motto of the evening: 'Sacred Love'. That's the title of the British musician's current album.

That's the name of the tour. This isn't meant to be an aloof service to the purely spiritual, nor does our intelligent gentleman have any bigoted awakening of platonic love in mind. He means it in a truly juicy, hearty way. Sex, too, is something sacred, he emphasizes at every opportunity. But hello.

'There's no religion but sex and music,' he whispers, slightly huskily, to the oval of 8,500 visitors. Holy crap. And recently, he even let his wife announce that he himself prefers to visit swinger clubs in Germany.

Wow. We wouldn't have thought this was possible from this decent man and father of six, who otherwise so fearlessly advocates for the rainforest and human rights. But maybe he wasn't meant to be so serious after all, maybe he just doesn't take himself as seriously as everyone always thinks. Maybe it's all just show business.

There he is, standing on stage, in his tailored suit, celebrating his unmistakable Sting voice. The "exceptional musician," as the radio commercial so beautifully put it. Does he even know where he is? Since January, Sting has been traveling all over the world on his sacred love tour. One stage resembles the next, hands are shaken everywhere, the same homage is always received, every evening is the same. He refrains from specifically greeting the people of Stuttgart, like everyone else in the pop circus. After all, he's playing for people who can imagine such things. "How are you, are you okay?" is all he offers after the first three songs. He's also rather monosyllabic when it comes to announcements. Only the music matters now. That's all that's said and all that's played.

"Send Me Your Love," the opening song, features a cheap 1970s-style synthesizer sequence and is vaguely reminiscent of Donna Summer's disco hit "I Feel Love." Yes, of course, Gordon Matthew Sumner, the former teacher, has recently taken to being a bit frivolous as Sting. To the sound of "Sacred Love," a striptease-wearing beauty writhes around on the three-part stage screen, which otherwise mostly showed falling leaves and raindrops.

But she doesn't remove the crucial items of clothing, which, while morally correct, also seems a bit bloodless.

The groove that the seven-piece band and their leader conjure up is by no means bloodless. While their confident, well-versed musicianship, adept in all styles and peppered with rhythmic refinement, dominates, this top-notch band also lets loose in moderation: For example, when the track 'I Was Brought To My Senses' builds to a crescendo and keyboardist Jason Rebello launches into a very powerful piano solo, which Sting counters with a brilliant bass line, the moment seems to be the fun, not just the staged show. At that point, it becomes apparent that this Sting is also a capable bassist, something that was already evident in his Police days more than twenty years ago.

The old police song "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" rattles effortlessly across the stage, something everyone has always wondered how he does: sing while simultaneously playing opposing bass lines. And then, it simply has to be "Roxanne," which this discerning and sophisticated audience absolutely goes along with, even singing along to: "I joh joh joh, I joh joh joh." Musically, it's not necessarily the highlight of the evening, but for the older generation, it's still a touching experience. The fragile, melodic ballad "Fragile," on which he himself plucks the strings, also provides a lighter-lit joy of rehearsal with its completely different mood.

In general, the music is very diverse, although the folkloric, world music undertones that Sting otherwise likes to sprinkle in are largely missing. In 'Desert Rose,' in whose video this anti-globalization campaigner for the disenfranchised drove through the desert in a luxury English car with the Algerian Rai singer Cheb Mami, he now attempts Bedouin singing himself: the only misstep of the evening. Unexpectedly fresh, however, is the song 'Englishman in New York,' which conveys its message very rhythmically to the audience over the synthetic string pizzicatos: 'Be yourself, no matter what they say.' Well-intentioned advice in these times. Has Sting always stood by himself? A rather pious question. 'Every Breath You Take,' as the obligatory encore, is certainly a catchy one.

(c) Stuttgarter Zeitung by Ulrich Bauer One Man

The pop star takes precedence: Experienced performance: Sting was a guest at the Schleyerhalle...

'Be yourself, no matter what they say' - a big phrase. The one who publicly proclaims it must be judged by this: Has Sting, aka Gordon Sumner, former leader of The Police and a global star on his solo career for 20 years, remained true to himself?

The 53-year-old presents himself radiantly at the Schleyerhalle: athletic, ageless, elegant, he offers a potpourri of his hits. With a flawless voice, virtuoso bass playing, and an excellent band behind him, he plays Police classics like 'Synchronicity II' and 'Roxanne,' including sing-alongs, classics like 'Everything She Does Is Magic,' romances like 'Fields Of Gold,' and the melancholic 'Fragile,' his contemplation of human fragility.

Most of the arrangements are refreshingly different from the studio versions, including songs from the current album 'Sacred Love.' In 'Inside,' for example, the instruments are finely orchestrated, the parts of the two choristers are perfectly placed, and the snake charmer's voice hovers above everything, creating this harmony. Vertically movable monitors in the background of the stage display motifs that match the respective mood, and all the performers are given the opportunity to prove themselves. The guitarist, for example, makes full use of his freedom and sets his own accents with a warm sound.

The fact that not everything is rosy at Sumner's is due to the lack of one crucial factor: passion. The performance is routine, almost perfect, but at times it reminds one of the subtle difference between freshness and refrigeration. Thus, despite all the class, a certain monotony eventually sets in.

Above all, it clearly reveals the balancing act that the chameleon Sting sometimes performs, how difficult the compromise is between tolerable pop and the high standards of jazz and world music. By 'Englishman In New York,' at the latest, the insistent hammering of the two smiths on drums and percussion, all too often working in unison, becomes a malicious disturbance: They mercilessly shatter every atmosphere; by contrast, the pianist's solo seems infinitely lonely, his free jazz improvisation a fig leaf far too small for the over-engineered dullness – two irreconcilable Polla Stampa.

(c) Stuttgarter Nachrichten by Bernd Haasis

An Englishman in Nirvana...

Despite numerous table-dancing shows on video monitors, gentleman rock star Sting remains reserved during his performance at Stuttgart's Schleyerhalle.

A deep rumble from the stage area, electronic shawms in oriental-ecstatic rapture, a flash of light. Suddenly, he's there. In black suit with a white shirt collar, his hair combed back tightly to Oscar Wilde length. Infinitely open-minded and yet incredibly reserved: the Englishman in Stuttgart. Sting, the British gentleman rock star and former Police frontman, whose real name is Gordon Sumner, lured 8,500 spectators to the Schleyerhalle for the third German concert on his 'Sacred Love' tour. And in the end, he thrilled them. But what the youthful 53-year-old presented as a cross-section of a quarter-century as a musician – including tracks from his current CD, solo hits from 'All This Time' to 'Desert Rose', and classics from his Police days – wasn't always entirely convincing.

Right from the start, the techno beats of Dave Aude's 'Send Your Love' remix drown out everything else that could have been heard from the seven-piece band. A dark-skinned beauty writhes lasciviously on seven video monitors, while acoustically, the gloomy Anne Clark and the forgotten Rick Springfield seem to meet. And yet, 'Send Your Love' is a typical number for the artist, whose great gift for combining the most diverse musical styles in a pop-compatible way always brings with it the curse of getting lost in exuberant arrangements. However, when the bassist and guitarist hark back to the good old Police days with 'Synchronicity II' and a more subdued instrumentation, he lets singer Sting take centre stage with his unmistakable voice, oscillating between velvety and piercing. To the delight of the audience. A phenomenon that will be evident throughout the evening: The old numbers reveal the voice, the new ones cover it up.

This also seems to be the program of the stage show: A black sun shines on kitschy landscapes with a hula-hoop girl during the moving 'Dead Man's Rope'. Green ghosts, seeming more like something out of an X-Files trailer than a soulful life, climb across the screens to 'Inside,' while tried-and-true elements are refreshingly sparingly illustrated.

But the five years with the Police are already 20 years behind them. A lot has happened in between – from the death of his father, which he addresses on 'Ten Summoner's Tales,' to September 11, 2001, on which the politically engaged, always thoughtful, and at times admonishing artist delivers his personal reflection on 'Sacred Love.' The wind has changed and continues to change.

This is demonstrated not least by the composition of the band, which sets the tone for the evening: guitar, electric piano, and keyboards, an impressive percussion section, and a huge drum set, flanked by two backup singers. Musically pushing boundaries has always been Sting's thing. So much so, in fact, that critics crowned him the "King of Thieves" years ago for his charming and brazen use of all styles and genres. For Sting himself, delving into the musical world is a means of creating tension from which, as he says, something new can always emerge.

Unfortunately, there was little sign of that in Stuttgart. Okay, there's that pleasant restraint, that British understatement, even when it comes to posing, just those typical little leaps of joy at the end of the number. There's the light-footed swinging 'Brand New Day,' the almost jam-session jazzed-up version of 'I Was Brought To My Senses,' for which Sting brings his tour support, US trumpeter Chris Botti, back on stage. Or the great duet with one of the powerful female singers on 'Whenever I Say Your Name,' which he recorded on CD with Mary J. Blige. All measures against the sterility of canned food – and yet a cool whiff of soulless, ready-made soul hovers over everything. '80s burble drips from the keyboards, the percussionist seems reluctant to explore the cosmos of his percussion, the piano accompanies with stuffy old-school jazz. Only guitarist Dominic Miller provides tension with energetic electric guitar interludes, such as on 'Shape of My Heart'.

Sting creates quiet moments with 'Fields of Gold' and its stripped-down guitar accompaniment, or the truly delicate 'Fragile'. Lighters glow in the audience, who quietly hum along to "how fragile we are," while white bombs detonate on orange-red fields in the background. But barely reaching the point where imaginative piecemeal compositions could provoke debate, a table dance show on the monitors and oriental sounds that flow into a streamlined blues end the fairy-light contemplation with memories of the 'Nine and a Half Weeks' soundtrack: 'Sacred Love', the title track of Sting's current CD, is similar to Joe Cocker's 'You Can Leave Your Hat On'.

The sterilized reggae beats of 'Englishman in New York' can't make up for it, even though everyone is singing "no matter what they say." In these arrangements, the magic of Sting's music is completely lost. Only occasionally, during the hits of the time that have been heard a thousand times, does it begin to sparkle: 'Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic', with its arcs of tension and without unnecessary frills, gets even non-dancers moving and entices everyone to sing "Eeee-ee-ee!" exuberantly. 'Every Breath You Take' rolls into your ear canals at a brisk pace like a freshly dusted pearl, making even the last row of the audience sway. And Sting sings in close-up from the screens. Finally, instead of decals, the medium on which the emotions of this concert stand and fall.

As if to underscore this, the singer closes his concert with the Police smash hit 'Roxanne,' which finally brings the sex from the screens into the music. The bombastic, endless version with plenty of reverb and echoes becomes a furious climax. Sting stretches the song ad infinitum, but always returns to the original idea. The song develops an energy that is almost tangible. The subsequent encores ('Desert Rose', 'If I Ever Lose My Faith In You') hint at what the evening could have become had Sting focused on his qualities from the beginning: his voice and simple arrangements. But everything is relative, as the formula of the theory of relativity, 'E=mci', briefly flashes up, says. And perhaps after this tour, Sting will take a friend aside and say what one of the audience members said as they left the venue: 'I'd like to have more voice - and the CDs are more pointed.' He's right.

(c) Eßlinger Zeitung by Inge Bäuerle