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Forty years ago the passion and presence he displayed with the Police ocked the drum world on his every move. Today, after exploring a multitude of ways in which to express and employ himself through sound, he's focusing once again on a band setting. Longtime MD :ontributor Ken Micallef remembers the shock of the new and learns about the drummer's return to old-time rocking out.
On October 19, 1979, my bandmates and I made the trek from the backwards burbs f Charlotte, North Carolina, to the leafy :ampus of Davidson College, some forty-five minutes to the north, to witness the threeDiece spectacle we'd heretofore only heard sn "FM alternative radio," the Police.
Our band, the Chaplins (don't ask), traded n new-wave material, our best track a rip-off f the Police's spiky "Truth Hits Everybody," rom their 1978 debut album, Outlandos i'Amour. Sure, we covered our share of late70s megahit wonders: Elvis Costello and :he Attractions' "Pump It Up," the Cars' "Good Times Roll," the Clash's "London Calling," Nick .owe's "Cruel to Be Kind." But really, the Police were it. I was a Stewart Copeland sycophant. The Police played like a band of true punks Dut with serious musical acumen and terrific :ongs that were infused with ideas from ska, eggae, Afro-Cuban, and other international ityles. Copeland, bassist/vocalist Sting, and guitarist Andy Summers were on a mission to ule the world, or at least its Top 40 charts.
It was with great relish and collected gas money that we drove north to Davidson in my mom's blood-orange Honda Civic. But lothing prepared us for the aggressiveness, energy, and bombast, for the full-on musical evolution we witnessed that fall night.
A quarter of the way through their 197980 Reggatta de Blanc tour, the Police hit the college's small auditorium stage and destroyed it. Sting was snarky, Summers regal, and Copeland a maniac freed from his cage. Challenging the band, the audience, even his own skinny, seemingly malnourished body, he played with a beautiful yet manic grace that drew on the energy of '70s punk. But the way he hammered rhythms both spacious and exotic, and his fearless mauling of the barline-always pushing forward-was intoxicating. Soon Copeland's trademarks, such as dub-tinted rim work, flowing hi-hat flourishes, Caribbean...
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