|a photo from today on the cover of Record Mirror (December 8, 1979)|
|a photo from today on a Smash Hits poster|
|a ticket for this concert|
|Artist performing:||The Police|
|Tour:||1978-1979 Outlandos d'Amour Tour|
|Location:||Edinburgh, Scotland, UK|
|Support acts:||Bobby Henry, The Cramps|
|Ticket prices:||UK pounds: 2,00 - 2,50|
Among the songs played were:
This section needs more information. Please note if an official or unofficial recording, or recording(s), is known to exist of this performance.
Early tour schedules show that the tour should originally have started in Edinburgh at Tiffany's on 1979-05-30. But demand for tickets was so high that several concerts had to be re-scheduled or added.
VALUE-ADDED. A three band tour. Expenses shared, exposure for the musician, extras for the audience. A good thing. Which is at least one reason why the Edinburgh Odeon responded so warmly to to the variegated efforts of this oddly assorted bill. They were being treated right.
Well you don't want a cross between 'Macbeth' and 'Psycho' every time. A good friendly night out is something to be savoured in itself. Bobby Henry began it with appropriate charm. Cropped blond hair, black suit, white plimsolls and a Clydeside accent so thick I doubt the posher Scots of the capital can understand him. He has a powerful pair of lungs, and sounded as though he will become a distinctive voice when he finishes sorting through influences like Lou Reed and Steve Harley. He also plays guitar, with Rob Lamb on lead, Matthew Seligman bass and David Wickham drums, the very neat, intelligent unit who ranged from rinky dinky pop to fairly traditional steady rocking. I liked them and feel a lot of people will, but they need to shake the ague of unconfident reserve out of their joints.
Like The Cramps have. Or maybe arrogance came to these New Yorkers with their chromosomes because they certainly haven't considered it necessary to learn how to play before presenting themselves to the paying public. Which in itself has been done before, made its point and lost its appeal. So they have to be funny and grotesque or they are nothing.
To these ends they rely on Bryan Gregory's wetsuit and elongated bleached cow-lick, his guitar partner Ivy Rorschach's stilettos and spray-on trousers and, chiefly, singer Lux Interior's weirdness. He looks like a gigantic Billy Fury, bellows and hiccups incomprehensibly, poses and dances with disturbing awkwardness (you want to laugh and you feel ashamed as if you were mocking a spastic).
But he doesn't care what you think and gladly trades insults with anyone who wants to argue the toss - barbed repartee such as 'Shut up yourself big mouth!'. He jumps down into the audience to get the dialogue on more intimate terms and generally suggests that the only way to wound The Cramps would be to ignore them. I couldn't. Nor could lenslady Jill Furmanovsky because Lux snatched her attaché case from her started grasp and flung it on to the stage. That'll teach her to bring sandwiches to a Cramps gig! Anyway, they were a laugh, everybody happy. Though maybe we wouldn't have been had we known there was a good band to follow.
Suddenly, through 'Roxanne' lighting the blue touch paper for 'Outlandos d'Amour', tens of thousands are appreciating Policeman Sting's songwriting, Stewart Copeland's daring with rock and reggae rhythms and Andy Summers' creative rebirth, deploying his session-style guitar expertise with economy and rare feeling.
Live they have other pleasures to offer. They are freer, more open, respond more to the moment (and this means you) than any other band of new or old wave I recall since Kokomo. Doubtless this leaves them more vulnerable than heads down rockers of the like-it-or-lump-it persuasion.
Probably the future holds audiences who will scorn their extended hands the way many did in their unfashionable past, but for now they are loved.
The Edinburgh crowd was quite simply hot and willing for them in an unusually two-way ebb and flow.
Thusly, running wild with the band airing their locomotor brainstorm choruses like 'So Lonely', 'Put on the red light' ('Roxanne') and 'All I want is to get next to you-oo'; listening intently to the band who are in turn listening intently to them when they 'take it down' (possibly to nothing more than a rimshot rhythm from Stewart) and then starting to fill the gaps with their own inventions, clapping, chanting as a mass and even hollering individually - through one quiet bit a bloke of 15 or so near me was screaming 'I'm so lonely' out of tune, out of time, but in the spirit. And all this was different again the next night.
Interaction rather than manipulation. Not absolutely of course. I've made it sound too pure. Police gigs are as much a numbing mish-mash as anyone else's. But they do have their own flavour. At their best The Police don't dictate.
This section needs more information.
This section needs more information.
source: tickets; ad in Record Mirror - June 2, 1979 - mentions support act "Doll By Doll" (who didn't play); this concert was reviewed in SOUNDS and Record Mirror - June 9, 1979 - mentioning Bobby Henry and The Cramps; Stewart Copeland's diary, Robert Lamb's diary