Sting
If On A Winters Night

THE REVIEW

Starting by quoting Calvino undoubtedly puts you in a good mood.

Then the cover photo... well...: Sting, the man who periodically makes me doubt my heterosexuality, here, bearded and very wintry, is truly splendid.

I've always forgiven Sting for everything: the nerdiness, the projects that are evidently more "pseudo" than "intellectual," the albums of lesser songs, but so minor that they can be comfortably overlooked...

And not me...: always there buying, saying well, yes, but, the voice, the style, the charisma, the self-reference, the police echo... etc...

This time I put on the album for the first time and... Bang!... Naptime.

I put it on for the second time and...bang!... Sleep.

The third time... Bang!... Into the arms of Morpheus.

I can’t resign myself: Sting cannot have missed again, after the medieval snoozefest, for crying out loud. In the middle was the grand reunion of the Police, with a tour and a live album more than worthy...

No, he can’t have messed up like just any Juventus coach...

And I also suffer quite heavily from insomnia. Of course, you'll say, this way you've found the solution to the problem. True, if you think about it... But... But it’s Sting!

Then I try at the office. And there it works slightly better. Maybe because the clients raise my blood pressure (and consequently it’s harder to be sleepy), maybe because when writing, or calling, a pleasantly monotonous little thing in the background can accompany without distracting...

It is what it is, but it works slightly better...

The little product is refined, neat, very studious. Sting’s voice is beautiful when it’s natural, quite unbearable when he tries to be "classically" trained.

There is nevertheless always an excellent arrangement work.

But the whole, there’s little to do, seems compositionally haphazard, it’s somewhat boring, and surely seems destined for a soon-forgotten drawer.

Why does our beloved Sting engage in such endeavors?

Why doesn’t he write a handful of songs and lock himself up at the Palagio with a couple of friends (two come to mind right away, just imagine...) to do what he does best?

Why do people, increasingly secular even in instinct, no longer remember the parable of talents?

On those well-paid stages, dear Sting, back in 2007 you were "in your element." And you were a phenomenon.

You should think about it....