Post by Fuggle on Feb 2, 2007 11:52:51 GMT -5
Back on the beat again
Last Updated: 12:01am GMT 01/02/2007
As the Police re-form, Neil McCormick explains why it's not just for the multi-million-pound pay cheques
The Police: a planned summer tour and possible recording dates
They said it would never happen. But it has. All around the world, rock stars past their prime who once swore never to get within spitting distance of one another have been quietly putting down their bargepoles and picking up their guitars. It is the mysterious case of the buried hatchet. Somebody ought to call the Police. Oh, wait a minute, they already have.
At the Grammy Awards in Los Angeles on Feb 11, Sting, Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland will perform together as a prelude to formally announcing a Police reunion, with a planned summer tour and possible recording dates. If, that is, they can stay in a room together without coming to blows.
The last time the British group attempted a reunion, in 1986, tensions ran so high that Sting stormed out of the studio after just three days, never to return. Tempers had cooled enough for a gig at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2003, after which Sting said that he had "no interest" in a reunion. "It's not going to happen," added Summers. "No can do," said Copeland. At which point, presumably, their fate was sealed.
The music industry is usually obsessed with looking for the next new thing, but this year it is throwing its weight behind the next old thing. In an increasingly fragmented market, executives are turning to the tried and trusted to bolster sales, with so many bands announcing reformations that the music scene in 2007 is starting to look a lot like it did 20 years ago.
Genesis led the way with an announcement that they would be touring Europe this summer. Roxy Music have been in the studio, while New Zealanders Crowded House and UK indie heroes James and My Bloody Valentine are following suit.
advertisementIn the US, the Smashing Pumpkins have ceased hostilities to start recording again, Rage Against the Machine have presumably resumed hostilities by putting their angry rock back on the road, and original punk Iggy Pop has reformed the Stooges. Dave Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen have patched up their differences to bring back the classic line-up of Van Halen. And in Iceland, there are rumours that the Sugarcubes will build on a reunion concert in November, although this is unlikely to leave the music world trembling in anticipation.
If there is something disheartening about pragmatism replacing idealism as the motivating force of our rock heroes, the simple fact is that reunions are good business, especially in a climate where middle-aged consumers spend more on music than young people.
In the age of the download, the reliable spending habits of "Fifty Quid Man" (a music-loving nostalgic who still prefers the long aisles of record shops and iconography of packaging to the intangibility of the internet) has been identified as the saviour of the music business, and, judging by last year's phenomenally successful Take That reunion, he may have been joined at the tills by his partner, Fifty Quid Woman.
Take That are an object lesson in the effectiveness of reunions. Despite scoring eight No 1 singles between 1993 and 1996, only one member, Robbie Williams, carved out a successful solo career (and Williams was notable by his absence from the reunion). When they planned their comeback tour, Mark Owen admitted they were "worried about how it would sell".
They went on to play more than 30 sold-out shows to half a million people, with Gary Barlow confessing his amazement that "the tour was bigger than any of the tours we did at the height of our fame". Such was the response, in fact, that the band decided to venture back into the studio, producing the UK's No 2 album of 2006.
Nostalgia gave Take That their career back, and that may be the real key to the reunion's lure for artists who have made their fortunes, but still hanker after fame, respect and the thrill of performance.
When the Sex Pistols re-formed for a world tour in 1996, John Lydon made it clear that his band had buried their differences in filthy lucre. "We have found a common cause, and it's your money," he sneered. Life is long, and most musical careers are short. Bands often break up for ideological reasons at a time in life when they are not thinking about paying the mortgage, or putting children through college.
But motives can be complex, and they are certainly not always as venal as hankering after a last big payday. When Genesis announced their plans last year, Phil Collins pointed out: "We're all loaded enough not to worry about where the next million or two is coming from. If money was the issue, we'd be playing more than 20 shows. I just felt now was the right time to have a go at it." He added that he "missed the camaraderie".
Bands are curious things, the musical dynamic shaped by the personalities involved, and with age (and failing solo careers) it may become easier to recognise that. While his bandmates may be enthused by the possible profit margin, Sting certainly doesn't need the money. But he might be hankering after the challenge, perhaps even seeking out new musical inspiration.
During a backstage encounter with Bono at Live 8, it was reported that Sting asked the U2 singer: "When are you going to get rid of this band and be a proper artist?" Yet after years drifting into the jazz-soul hinterland, Sting's performance of Police songs on the Hyde Park stage was widely hailed as his leanest, meanest and most effective set in years, displaying a vigour lacking in his recent solo material. And if he was thinking about recording with a stripped-down Police-style rock line-up, why audition session musicians when he already has the original members just waiting for his call?
Whatever happens in the long run, a resumption of active service with the Police will undoubtedly reconnect him with his audience and reinvigorate his solo sales. But perhaps more importantly for such an idealistic man, it may reconnect Sting with his muse, help him rediscover his popular touch.
One person sure to be surprised by the announcement is Pete Townshend, a veteran of many reunions with the Who. "I remember meeting Sting at the Caprice after he'd just left the Police," Townshend told me recently. "I said to him, 'You don't have to leave the Police, you can just retire them for a bit.' And he said, 'Pete, I've been watching you, and I'm keen not to make the same mistakes.' "
Last Updated: 12:01am GMT 01/02/2007
As the Police re-form, Neil McCormick explains why it's not just for the multi-million-pound pay cheques
The Police: a planned summer tour and possible recording dates
They said it would never happen. But it has. All around the world, rock stars past their prime who once swore never to get within spitting distance of one another have been quietly putting down their bargepoles and picking up their guitars. It is the mysterious case of the buried hatchet. Somebody ought to call the Police. Oh, wait a minute, they already have.
At the Grammy Awards in Los Angeles on Feb 11, Sting, Andy Summers and Stewart Copeland will perform together as a prelude to formally announcing a Police reunion, with a planned summer tour and possible recording dates. If, that is, they can stay in a room together without coming to blows.
The last time the British group attempted a reunion, in 1986, tensions ran so high that Sting stormed out of the studio after just three days, never to return. Tempers had cooled enough for a gig at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2003, after which Sting said that he had "no interest" in a reunion. "It's not going to happen," added Summers. "No can do," said Copeland. At which point, presumably, their fate was sealed.
The music industry is usually obsessed with looking for the next new thing, but this year it is throwing its weight behind the next old thing. In an increasingly fragmented market, executives are turning to the tried and trusted to bolster sales, with so many bands announcing reformations that the music scene in 2007 is starting to look a lot like it did 20 years ago.
Genesis led the way with an announcement that they would be touring Europe this summer. Roxy Music have been in the studio, while New Zealanders Crowded House and UK indie heroes James and My Bloody Valentine are following suit.
advertisementIn the US, the Smashing Pumpkins have ceased hostilities to start recording again, Rage Against the Machine have presumably resumed hostilities by putting their angry rock back on the road, and original punk Iggy Pop has reformed the Stooges. Dave Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen have patched up their differences to bring back the classic line-up of Van Halen. And in Iceland, there are rumours that the Sugarcubes will build on a reunion concert in November, although this is unlikely to leave the music world trembling in anticipation.
If there is something disheartening about pragmatism replacing idealism as the motivating force of our rock heroes, the simple fact is that reunions are good business, especially in a climate where middle-aged consumers spend more on music than young people.
In the age of the download, the reliable spending habits of "Fifty Quid Man" (a music-loving nostalgic who still prefers the long aisles of record shops and iconography of packaging to the intangibility of the internet) has been identified as the saviour of the music business, and, judging by last year's phenomenally successful Take That reunion, he may have been joined at the tills by his partner, Fifty Quid Woman.
Take That are an object lesson in the effectiveness of reunions. Despite scoring eight No 1 singles between 1993 and 1996, only one member, Robbie Williams, carved out a successful solo career (and Williams was notable by his absence from the reunion). When they planned their comeback tour, Mark Owen admitted they were "worried about how it would sell".
They went on to play more than 30 sold-out shows to half a million people, with Gary Barlow confessing his amazement that "the tour was bigger than any of the tours we did at the height of our fame". Such was the response, in fact, that the band decided to venture back into the studio, producing the UK's No 2 album of 2006.
Nostalgia gave Take That their career back, and that may be the real key to the reunion's lure for artists who have made their fortunes, but still hanker after fame, respect and the thrill of performance.
When the Sex Pistols re-formed for a world tour in 1996, John Lydon made it clear that his band had buried their differences in filthy lucre. "We have found a common cause, and it's your money," he sneered. Life is long, and most musical careers are short. Bands often break up for ideological reasons at a time in life when they are not thinking about paying the mortgage, or putting children through college.
But motives can be complex, and they are certainly not always as venal as hankering after a last big payday. When Genesis announced their plans last year, Phil Collins pointed out: "We're all loaded enough not to worry about where the next million or two is coming from. If money was the issue, we'd be playing more than 20 shows. I just felt now was the right time to have a go at it." He added that he "missed the camaraderie".
Bands are curious things, the musical dynamic shaped by the personalities involved, and with age (and failing solo careers) it may become easier to recognise that. While his bandmates may be enthused by the possible profit margin, Sting certainly doesn't need the money. But he might be hankering after the challenge, perhaps even seeking out new musical inspiration.
During a backstage encounter with Bono at Live 8, it was reported that Sting asked the U2 singer: "When are you going to get rid of this band and be a proper artist?" Yet after years drifting into the jazz-soul hinterland, Sting's performance of Police songs on the Hyde Park stage was widely hailed as his leanest, meanest and most effective set in years, displaying a vigour lacking in his recent solo material. And if he was thinking about recording with a stripped-down Police-style rock line-up, why audition session musicians when he already has the original members just waiting for his call?
Whatever happens in the long run, a resumption of active service with the Police will undoubtedly reconnect him with his audience and reinvigorate his solo sales. But perhaps more importantly for such an idealistic man, it may reconnect Sting with his muse, help him rediscover his popular touch.
One person sure to be surprised by the announcement is Pete Townshend, a veteran of many reunions with the Who. "I remember meeting Sting at the Caprice after he'd just left the Police," Townshend told me recently. "I said to him, 'You don't have to leave the Police, you can just retire them for a bit.' And he said, 'Pete, I've been watching you, and I'm keen not to make the same mistakes.' "