The Musical Aftermath

Despite taking what seemed like ages to leave Wrigley Field amidst the throngs of other cattle, last Friday’s Police show, for the record, was terrific.

Sure, I’d never seen so many drunken, middle-aged suburbanites crowded in one area striving to relive their twenties one $6.00 Old Style at a time, but the concert was everything I hoped it might be. The band played for two hours (no backup singers or other musicians) with minimal chit-chat, and despite concert reviews to the contrary truly seemed to be having fun on-stage. In fact, as the show ended, I saw drummer Stewart Copeland happily patting Sting on the back – which for those familiar with The Police’s often nasty history – is a huge step forward for Police relations.

However, while waiting on the Addison Red Line platform for the L-ride home, I could overhear more than one fan grouse about guitarist Andy Summers coming in either too late or too early on a couple of songs. They were right. He did. Yet as for me, musical mistakes (big or small) are part of the fun (and perils) of live music.

I never felt cheated.

Here's that Sting guy at Wrigley

Finally, I indeed got a concert shirt on the way out, and was the subject of much questioning the next day at my pal Bruce’s birthday party. And as promised, those bubbling with envy over my wearable trophy were promptly invited to suck it.

Especially Brad…