The Police
Every Breath You Take

Exegesis of a perfect song.

And not just for us "magnificent" forty-year-olds.

An absolutely perfect song. Well... in life, one must take the liberty of being overbearing, every now and then, and think that one's judgment borders on the infallibility of objectivity.

If you look at St. Peter's Square or Adriana Lima, or if you spread a splendid fois gras on a well-toasted crostino, don't you convince yourself of the existence of God? Don't you convince yourself that what you see is perfection?

Just like with this song. Exclusively in the original studio version.

Like this. Not a millimeter more, not a millimeter less.

And it was love at first sight. Since I bought the tricolor cassette and slipped it into the stereo, completely hypnotized by that perfect track and that black and white video that were marking, and would forever mark, my adolescence, and all the comedy that followed.

I speak of that version because we are talking about one of the most "covered" and "self-covered" songs in history.

How nice it would be to hear the wise words of that superior character who is Leonard Cohen (author of another of the most violated songs ever) from Sting: "please do not interpret 'Allelujah' anymore." Said simply, in a low voice. A gentle yet firm request not certainly coming from just anyone.

Sting, on the other hand, no. Freestyling, and only among the official products, there are at least 2 or 3 live versions by the Police and as many by Sting alone. Among these, only the one from the now ancient "Unplugged" is nice. Meanwhile, the lowest point was reached with the unwatchable and luckily forgotten Puff Daddy (or whatever the hell he was called... I swear I don't even feel like looking it up on Google).

Sting played along, as he later participated in an implausible rap on "Roxanne."

Here, in the original version, everything is truly perfect. The album, the entire "Synchronicity," has wonderful sounds for its time and is an album devoted to a studied minimalism. The "post-punk" or "white reggae" of the Police are now almost memories, and Sting's personality is prevailing over times, settings, and ideas. Over "calm," in the broadest sense of the term. For heaven's sake: relative calm, if you look at the energy of the concert that followed the album...

But everything is more thought out, more studied. More deliberately conceived within precise boundaries, but not yet uselessly or pedantically baroque.

Here starts a plucked guitar arpeggio that is objectively elevated to music history, announced by the classic and unmistakable snare drum hit.

Copeland is felt in the breaks, in the use of cymbals, and obviously in his unique and recognizable way of playing the snare. But the tempo, often erratic and accelerating (one of the historical reasons for quarrel with the Stinger), is like a metronome, albeit full of an unexploded energy that is something unrepeatable (and indeed will remain unrepeated in every subsequent version of the song).

The keyboards are very light and almost insubstantial, except for a classic counterpoint piano, with some "big chords" and some small descending phrases. Proof that well-set minimalism is worth a thousand pyrotechnic performances.

Bass like a metronome, perfectly in step with the drums.

Voice: Sting sings beautifully, and this (even then) was certainly not new. But the novelty (those who were already at least teenagers will surely remember) lay precisely in the vocal arrangement. Darker, softer, more "studied." Certainly not enough to justify the old nickname. Here, there's no stinging, no yelling. It is singing, and well.

All this, I like to repeat, with an unexploded energy that is the main characteristic of the song. This song, in this version, has always attracted attention, draws in and entertains, gets hummed by musicians and builders, by the professional in the shadow of an office and by the whistling painter.

A pop masterpiece, we might say, in the broadest sense of the term.

A masterpiece and that's it, I prefer to say.

And the doubt is whether this alchemy has something divine or whether it is constantly within human reach, which, unfortunately, most of the time do not reach such high and seemingly perfect peaks.

Other songs touch the sky like this. We will talk about it.

Man is imperfect, but he carries within himself the idea of perfection (this is the foundation of every religious doctrine).

Let's also make it the basis of a beautiful reasoning about music. Kisses.