One Sellout For The Ages

A few days ago, I had been debating whether or not to include a little rant I had written into for the web page I had been working on. I had felt that a whole page ripping a certain musician my have been a little excessive. However, when I was watching the idiot box I happened to notice a spot on VH1 that made my stomach turn. I again realized why I had written that piece in the first place. Puff Daddy was performing the 80’s hit “Every Breath I Take,” with none other than Sting performing back-up vocals.

Ah Sting, my favorite whinny British bassist this side of Roger Waters. Unlike the man responsible for the musical Godliness of Pink Floyd and who I regard as the Holy Spirit of Musical Genius, Sting's credentials do not come near replicating Mr. Waters impressive repertoire. For those who didn't grow up in the early eighties (essentially like myself), Sting was the Bassist and front man for one of the most influential new-age bands of that period. To this day I am a big fan of his work with them.

Although I was either four or five years old when the Police broke up, I can appreciate their work in much the same light as other trailblazing bands of that period such as The Ramones, Clash, and Talking Heads. Aside from my disgust at the depths to which Sting is willing to travel these days (ala the Puff Daddy Performances), I find great irony in analyzing the post Police lives of his band mate and drumming God Steward Copeland. Sting's solo career saw some decent success early on. Yet, a waning period of success towards decades end saw Sting sell his musical soul to the corporate devil of mainstream popular appeal. Sting allowed most of the tracks from his latest album to be sold for use in commercials to compensate for stagnant record sales (ala MOBY). To me the cardinal sin, and a true disgrace to the band that made him famous, was allowing Puff Daddy to sample and perform Every Breath I Take. Every time I see that collaboration it feels as though a hot-shot architect had been given free reigns to modernize the Sistene Chapel. Yet there is a wonderful irony in associated with Sting’s current predicament. While he is selling his soul just to stay afloat and whoring his music to the highest bidder, Stewart Copeland has been writing harnessing his grasp of musical complexity through composing movie scores and joining famous musicians in side projects, such as the one some Phish and Primus heads might know of called Oysterhead. While the front man of that wonderful 80’s band succumb to his inflated ego, the steady drummer plays today with arguably two of the best players alive (Trey Anastasio, guitarist, and Les Claypool, bass).

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