The Police electrifies Barcelona - The band plays their most famous songs at this time...

A few months ago, the news spread like a hail of gunpowder: "The Police return!" After the initial surprise, the tickets to their only Spanish concert were finished in a few hours, as if it had been in the past, as if their last success was still on the radio. With this enthusiasm, with these overflowing desires, the Barcelona public materialized a memorable drink on the Montjuïc mountain. Considering the exterior problem, the presence of the group on the stage took 30 minutes, which served to ensure that many of those praying were finally able to reach the interior of the stadium. And so, once inside, everything seemed forgotten. Bob Marley eased the wait.

At the end of the night, Marley's voice suddenly rose, darkness seized the Olympic venue and a thunderous guitar chord marked the beginning of what was going to be much more than a simple concert. Andy Summers' red and white Stratocaster marked the beginning of one of his most emblematic songs: 'Message In A Bottle'. The Police started stepping hard, and didn't stop doing it at all times.

This first theme was followed by the less emblematic 'Synchronicity II'. And, from then on, there were twenty songs that the public was eager to hear again. An expected and predictable crescendo that reached its peak, it couldn't be any other way, when Sting played the first notes of the song that officially closed the concert: 'Roxanne'. Then, the Barcelona Olympics exploded and 60,000 throats roared in unison.

It really looked like a small tunnel of time: as if the scene and ceiling were filled with bloated teenagers. Few groups can afford the pleasure of putting together a world tour of 98 concerts (it began on May 27th in the Canadian city of Vancouver and will conclude on February 1st in Australia; in Barcelona there is number 57) without bringing anything new, which is the most important, without falling into nostalgia. The Police played at this time a handful of songs that everyone knows, but they didn't forget the water.

A spectacular scene for its amplitude and its games of lights, six huge screens with different planes and a more acceptable sound that marked the British trio, which did not need great scenic spreads to convince the public. Only music and three strong personalities who seem to continue maintaining the same scenic chemistry as they did in their teenage years.

Sting, wearing a white shirt with no sleeves and wielding a loose Fender Jazz Bass, carried his singing voice throughout the night. A powerful and nuanced voice that expanded with authentic power, but left a lot of space for Summers' guitar, which marked some of the most electrifying moments of an electrifying concert. Andy Summers, shirt with horizontal stripes and dark jacket, doesn't need long solos to explain great stories, he's capable of synthesizing electricity in its purest state and in the Barcelona Olympics he disgraced some memorable guitar solos. And, behind them, Stewart Copeland, strapping on his hair and playing together, maintained an infernal rhythm. A perfectly composed trio offering muscular music that still preserves all its beauty intact.

The blaring chords of 'Next To You' put the final point to a sensationally electrifying concert. If someone was looking for nostalgia, they got the wrong place.

(c) El Pais by Miquel Jurado

The Police reconquer Barcelona with the hymns of a generation...

Barcelona responded with emotion last night to The Police's performance. The audience forgave the celebrated trio even the half-hour delay, choosing the Olympic Stadium for their only concert in Spain. It was a show to rejuvenate souls. More than 50,000 people stepped back in time to the 1980s and had a great time with the band's unbeatable repertoire, backed by a prodigious sound. From Sting's vocal displays in the opening songs - they opened with "Message In A Bottle," "Synchronicity II," and "Walking On The Moon," no less - to the final frenzy led by "Roxanne" and "Every Breath You Take," Montjuïc hosted an evening that, over the years, will deserve an "I Was There" (I was there).

Dressed in a sleeveless white T-shirt and with a generally vigorous appearance, Sting is a sphinx barely eroded by the winds of all these years. He gave his all. He greeted the crowd with a courteous "Hello Barcelona," without further concessions, and got to work. With his old, chipped brown Fender bass guitar, standing tall like a reed, defiantly facing the crowd, the trio's leader revelled in the champion's moment, as if six Olympic Games hadn't passed since his group carried the torch of the kings of the court.

To his left, Andy Summers, a veteran six-string warrior, a rocker armed with a red Stratocaster that he occasionally swapped for his lifelong Telecaster. And behind him, like a titan behind the wall of purple-blue drums, Stewart Copeland, a kid with gray hair and fury on the sticks. Copeland has an impressive wardrobe. He has gadgets that he doesn't bang all night, but he feels secure among them. The apotheosis, in this sense, came midway through the concert, with "Wrapped Around Your Finger." Behind him, mounted on a platform, a new toy emerged, another feast for percussion, crowned by an immense gong. He looked like an emperor of rhythm.

The Final Volleys If Copeland embodied the most visceral third, Summers, about to turn 65, unleashed the guitar hero within him. The Police's restructured repertoire was replete with their solos. Summers galloped up the neck on numerous songs ("Driven To Tears," "Hole In My Life," "When The World Is Running Down...") and earned some of the biggest ovations.

The audience's surrender, in short, was unconditional. The crowd gobbled up even the songs that were playing as if they were missing a gear ('Don't Stand So Close To Me', 'Truth Hits Everybody'...). Once unbeatable aces, they emerge from the deck without much glory, conditioned by Sting's vocal prowess. Nor was the Bono moment the best of the show, musically speaking: while 'Invisible Sun' played, photos of children appeared on the screens; then 'Walking In Your Footsteps' came on, and on the same screens, dinosaurs scurried about, bearing ill omens for the battered planet.

It was a truce: the final salvo was already in the air. 'Can't Stand Losing You' sounded like thunder, giving way to an open sky, to 'Roxanne', the zenith under some wicked red lights. A wonderful false ending, a mock-fire goodbye. Then came the four encores: "King of Pain," "So Lonely," "Every Breath You Take" (ecstasy before the other anthem), and "Next to You." The first song from the first album, the one that kicked things off, was the last of the show. The crowd went downhill, changing the verb tense. These guys weren't very big. They are very big.

(c) El Periodico by Eloy Carrasco