Saturday, July 12, 2025

Song(s) of the Day # 4,140 The Police

 

There's a lot if foolishness when It comes to talking about music. Competitiveness. Particularly when it comes to talking about it and what you like and don't like. Often where men are concerned I've found. Looking to establish ownership. When it comes to music I'd say a pointless and futile idea. I much prefer talking to women about music. I'm never quite sure what they're going to say about a song. An album. With men I've generally got a pretty good udea. What does it matter . Like what you like. 

Music clearly does matter to me. Because I write this blog. And have done on a daily basis since 2014.  I'd maintain that what I really like most is writing but music provides a perfect conduit. An excuse. Some would call me slightly obsessional. OK I can be intense. You need to be to be a teacher. You're only as good as your last lessom. That's what I like most about what I do. I wake up every morning thinking. What do my students want? What do they need? It's not always the same thing.

The Police were one of the first things I latched onto in music. A long time ago. When I was about 13. I liked the songs. They were great players who jumped aboard Punk because it was a vehicle to take them where they wanted and needed to go. Yeah opportunists. Aren't we all.

But I also liked the philosophical nature of their songs. The fact that something seemed to be at stake. Also the lyrics could be funny. Sting wasn't ashamed of the dumb line. He knew what Pop Music provided. An opportunity for quick witted, arrogant thinking. The chance  to preen and show off. The others joined in. Just watch their videos, They're peacocks on display. Andy Summers always struck me as a little older and perhaps genuinely deep. More philosophical.

I met my best friend Philip  when I was 15. He's still my best friend. He always will be. We used to to come home from school together. Listen to The Police. Play chess. Eat cake. Watch athletics. Talk about life,  It's a friendship that's endured.And blossomed.

When we moved on from school to college Philip started having Friday and Saturday afternoon swimming parties in his family home near Kew Garden station. We were both moving on. Him to Dire Straits and Sussex University. Me to R.E.M and The Univesity of East Anglia. We were both increasingly thinking about girls.Girls are always a nice thing to think about. 

I guess a charge could be made against The Police. Ironic given their name. Cutural appropriation. The ludicrius Reggae-isms. Theft? But it's not worth getting hot under the cillar about is it? What the Police produced was not Reggae music.Or Punk Music. It wasn't groundbreaking. It was Pop Music. And like the best Pop Music it sounded great coming out of your radio. Or on your record player. 

We still listened to Sting at college. Philip and I. The Police had split up. Sting's opinion of himself had gone into orbit and was doing sommersults in space. He had decided that he owned Jazz for some reason known only to himself. I still like The Police but if you're after my soul I direct you to Dead Letter Office.But your soul's your own.  Like I said. Like what you like. 

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