Sting
The Dream Of The Blue Turtles

THE REVIEW

Twenty years ago, Gordon Matthew Sumner, known as Sting, decided to embark on a mission "of diplomacy, leaving the Police at home". So sang Antonello Venditti, one of the least qualified to criticize the choices of others, considering what his have produced. However, the jab was well-aimed, and especially the term "diplomacy" was spot on. From this first work, Sting has continuously sought a compromise between his noble passions (jazz and classical) and the taste of the broadest possible audience, with true balancing acts worthy of a diplomat, to satisfy the market without compromising too much, something he fully achieved in this first album, unlike in the subsequent ones, with the exception of the dark and reflective "The Soul Cages".
Sting has never been loved by critics: his elegance and his tendency to smooth the rough edges clash with the "aesthetic of ugliness" followed by many critics, who prefer annoying but spontaneous noises to pleasant but fabricated music. Even as a character, he has done little to be likable: his boasts of 5 - 7 hour erotic performances are legendary (who cares?), less known is his comparison to Beethoven due to a hearing problem.
All this, however, should not influence the judgment on "The Dream Of The Blue Turtles", divinely played together with musicians like Brandford Marsalis (sax), Kenny Kirkland (keyboards), Darryl Jones (bass: but wasn't Sting a bassist?), and Omar Hakim (drums). A very varied album, an inevitable quality to meet the favor of multiple audience types.

For those with simple tastes, two chart-topping hits: a powerful and rhythmic rock, "If You Love Somebody, Set Them Free", and a trivial reggae-tune for the beach like "Love Is The Seventh Wave".

For classical music lovers and melomaniacs, here’s some good Prokofiev in the tear-jerking theme of "Russians", and here credit must be given to the honest Sting for declaring the classical source in the notes, something that very few do (for example, Santana stretches an entire piece using Brahms' Third without bothering to credit him). We stay in Prokofiev territory with "Children's Crusade", influenced by the nightmare atmosphere of the Russian composer's Second Piano Concerto, but without borrowed themes. The splendid jazz crescendo placed halfway through the piece, with Marsalis dazzling, is worth mentioning.

Nostalgic for the Police? For you, there’s a sped-up and frenetic version of "Shadows In The Rain", which, thanks to Kirkland's keyboard bursts and Marsalis' screaming sax, manages to overshadow the original. A little effort? Why not, from someone who sings for the Amazon (and for money), we expect it. So here we are, in the bowels of the earth, sharing the harsh life of English mines thanks to a sinister limping reggae, "We Work The Black Seam". Then, since we have some fine jazz musicians at our disposal, it's wise to make use of them a bit, and nothing is more chic than associating Shakespeare's verses with rich jazz like "Consider Me Gone", making peace with critics. A bit of healthy jazz improvisation? Alright, but only a minute, otherwise the record might sell a little less: voilà "The Dream Of The Blue Turtles".

Musical and crooner fans: dive into "Moon Over Bourbon Street", with Sting in werewolf mode, capable of recreating Gershwin-like atmospheres without even pillaging Gershwin, something postponed to the next record ("Sister Moon"). Lastly, another look back at the Police: "Fortress Around Your Heart" wouldn't have looked out of place on the second side of "Synchronicity", the totally Stingan side. Yet, you try to describe it with irony, but this sycophantic record, made to please everyone, is still very enjoyable to listen to after 20 years. There must be a reason: perhaps the class, which (they say) is not just water.