For a useful barometer of Sting’s career, look no further than his barnet. When the Police were in their chart-steamrollering early 80s pomp, their bass-playing frontman’s hair was blond and lustrous. In recent solo years, as his restless muse has careered alarmingly from musicals to carols to 16th-century songs accompanied on a lute – anything, in fact, other than the pop-rock-reggae that made him famous – his locks turned browner, shorter, greyer, relocated to his chin and eventually vanished altogether.
So it’s something of surprise to see that the thatch is back, standing almost vertically on his head. There seems to be some sort of bizarre Samson effect as he delivers a vintage pop show. Although Sting’s widely reported penchant for tantric sex turned out to be a drunken joke (“Tantric sex? For hours? With Sting? If only,” sighed his wife, Trudie Styler), this is a tantric setlist: a 22-song marathon stuffed with Police classics.
Sting is touring 57th and 9th, his first rock album in 13 years. It’s no Reggatta de Blanc, but it does see him return to his old band’s trusted tropes: arpeggiated guitars and pithily intelligent power-pop. The tracks Petrol Head, 50,000 (about mortality and the ridiculousness of rock stardom) and I Can’t Stop Thinking About You are given added live zip by a new young band, including his son, Joe. Fiery Tex-Mex support act the Last Bandoleros (with whom Sting guested earlier) join in with swaggering Rolling Stones-y backing vocals. The 65-year-old singer looks ludicrously fit, and has regained an octave, perhaps through yoga (or his eye-wateringly Strokes-tight trousers).
The former Policeman’s various phases must have challenged the keenest devotee’s ardour. This show, though, has something for everyone. There’s thumping rock (Synchronicity II, understated funk (Spirits in the Material World), call and response routines (“Yo, ho ho… ”), moody atmospherics (Fields of Gold) and politics. One Fine Day is cheekily dedicated to “Donald Trump’s Environmental Protection Agency”; the gentle Fragile is rather movingly played for “the people of Syria … stop dropping bombs on them, for fuck’s sake”.
There aren’t any lute songs, but the Geordie former schoolteacher explains that Pretty Young Soldier is about “crossdressing among women in the 18th century … it’s a waltz”, before the party truly starts with a run of reworked Police smashes.
Written in a Bayswater basement 38 years ago, accompanied by his cat (who “didn’t show any interest in my songs”), Message in a Bottle now has an extended dub section, interrupted by a yelled “I love you, Sting!” Walking on the Moon’s disoriented dub and heavy echo sounds similarly fantastic, before Roxanne detours into Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine and back into the killer chorus.
He may now be worth a reported £140m, but can still somehow summon up the required angst to deliver So Lonely and Next to You as hurtling new wave stompers. Every Breath You Take becomes a giant singalong, and people cheer the return of the Sting they’ve always wanted.
• At Eventim Apollo, London, 9 and 10 April. Box office: 0844 2494300.
