Shit That’s Good! Crap Albums I Love # 56 – Sting, Ten Summoner’s Tales

From time to time I like to share some stories about albums I love that are duds – either I’ve found a way in to appreciate it through sheer stubbornness – or I just loved it on first listen.

Sting, Ten Summoner’s Tales, 1993

I once found myself in a car defending Sting to mad conspiracy theorist, anti-vax mummy blogger Claire Deeks. But that’s another story! It turns out that was the start of a tumultuous time in my life, but I’m sure that’s just coincidence. It was a heavy time for a while there in the 90s, defending Sting. I was so sure I was a fan. And though I wasn’t defending Ten Summoner’s Tales to the not-quite-then Ms. Deeks. I bet I mentioned it in my attempts to justify my Sting fandom.

Growing up, the music of The Police was everywhere, and you learned quickly that these were three expert musicians, the drummer especially. And Sting was as ubiquitous as Mark Knopfler and Paul Simon and David Byrne and Phil Collins if you grew up white and privileged in sunny Hawke’s Bay. Their music on every radio station, and in every home’s music collection.

Sting — it must be said — is a fantastic vocalist. And there are obviously some great moments. And my defence was always around the fact that he had the most killer band. Whether The Police, or solo. There was the Branford Marsalis era. And then the Dominic Miller/Vinnie Colaiuta. In fact, I first ‘met’ Vinnie on this here album, Ten Summoner’s Tales. And it was the reason for caring.

It’s still the reason for caring. The 7/4 and 7/8 time signatures, the way Vinnie hits a splash, or pings off the ride while in the main groove on the-hats, the overall crispness of his playing — the ‘vibe’. He’s everywhere of course, and as a result of this album I’d go back to hear his playing on Frank Zappa’s Joe’s Garage, which is just otherworldly. And did you know that Vinnie is even the drummer on a Megadeth album (The System Has Failed — that’s the album title, not an indictment on that situation by the way).

So, yeah, I fell hard for Vinnie. And to this day, he’s one of my absolute favourites, and he remains the reason to listen to Ten Summoner’s Tales. Though Dominic Miller adds some nice, tasty moments to these songs too.

Sting’s legacy is somewhat that he’s a plonker. An ex-English teacher that wrote a creepy song about macking on one of his students. Wore a stupid bumblebee sweater to earn a ridiculous moniker, and fucked his wife for so many hours they both got bored-as-shit. There was his saving rainforests era in there too, which was possibly noble, but back then we didn’t listen and just thought that was privileged nerdy rock star shit (and it probably was by the way).

I’ve seen Sting a bunch of times — once with the Police, once with an orchestra, once with Peter FUCKING Gabriel. And every time Sting was an incredible live singer. The best. Like, literally maybe the very best live singer I’ve ever heard and seen. But his songs are — mostly — shit.

When Claire Deeks was in my car bemoaning that I was listening to a live bootleg tape of Sting covering Hendrix’s Little Wing, I was incensed. Nowadays, I might almost agree with her — let the record show it would be the only thing her and I might ever agree on.

But still, there was this sweet-spot of Sting records. The “Trilogy” as I see it is The Soul Cages (1990), this, and then Mercury Falling (1996). That was the time, almost, to be a Sting fan. After that he turned into Seal. Before that he faked punk energy and traded on it for far too long.

I listened to Ten Summoner’s Tales recently and it borderline gave me the ick.

Only Vinnie’s playing means anything on there. Sting’s lyrics are trite. And his singing is fine, sure, but there are so many examples of his singing being fine. It’s the fact that he is over-represented in the canon of classic rock by virtue of The Police being so huge for a time, and by Sting being spunky when that mattered.

The music is close to shit. And yet I can’t shake it. I always think it’s good to have an album, or artist, that you feel the need to defend — even if you realise that the main reason you’re doing it is due simply to runs on the board and time spent at the wheel beside them.