I've been a fan of Sting and the Police since I first became aware of music as a kid back in the late 70's. Though I admit his last few releases have left me nonplussed, his memoir "Broken Music" and collection of words in "Lyrics" surprised me in their depth and sincerity.
That's why reading this article "When Sting Came to Class" by Charles Evered, associate professor of theater, UC-Riverside, is so uplifting. It's a great story about telling your story.
Read the rest. In honor of the man, here's Friday's Smoke Break as well, "If I Ever Lose My Faith In You."
Finally came the day itself. As I look back now, it's all a blur. The ploy to keep his visit on the QT was hopeless, of course. The moment he stepped out of his car, he was met by a bevy of autograph seekers. Even getting him upstairs was somewhat of a trial. But after the doors were closed, we were able to talk about his book. And it really was quite amazing, because after only a few minutes, the glow of celebrity started to fade, quickly replaced by the simple and powerful act of someone telling his story.
As for Sting himself, he was maddeningly gracious, a perfect gentlemen. I've known playwrights who are bigger divas.
After the hour flew by, I asked Sting if he would give us a reading from his book—from a particular passage in which he describes the last time he saw his father alive. And so he lifted the glasses that hung on a chain around his neck and read.