Friday, February 18, 2005

do do do, da da da

A Sting song hit my ears the other day (the one where he dreams 'bout rain, ah-ley-e-a-ley, or whatever the fuck). Anyway, I'm reminded of all the awesome Police songs out there, and how Sting has never 'rocked' since. I'm not saying he hasn't had his share of solo song quality. 'I Dream Of The Bored Turtle' and 'Ten Summoner's Tales' have their collection of minor classics. But I miss the glory days. Why Sting, why can't you just rock!!?? I think we know the reasons...

(Evening. Inside a recording studio during sessions for Sting's latest jazz-pop masterpiece.)

STING: Listen bloke, I'm fucking Sting. Don't mess up this bloody take. Alright, I want to try something different. Ready? Up-tempo, two, three, four...

(Band starts running through a song. Its a rock n roll nod to his roots. Suddenly the studio lights flicker! Smoke fills the room and a form appears!)

STING: What the bloody hell? Stop tape, stop tape! Now look here poppet, sod off before kick ya in the gulliver!

DEMON: Now, now need for threats...

STING: Oh, Asmodeus, its you.

DEMON: Indeed, foolish mortal.

STING: Well then, what's all this now? Why'd you pop in here? Care for a spot of tea?

DEMON: No. I came because I heard you monkeys playing at 160 beats per minute. That counts as rock and or roll. You remember our agreement??

STING: Oh balls...

DEMON: Yes...I give you the power to have sex for five hours...tantric, yes, tantric is what we called this power. Anyway, you get superhuman sex...and in exchange you forfeit the ability to rock...EVER!!

STING: Oh Demon, it just isn't fair. I need to rock! This soft shit brings in the quid alright, but its driving me loony. I can't take it! Can't I just sell my soul like Robert Johnson did? He seemed to make out ok.

DEMON: Not everything is as it seems. Now he rests in hell, eternally forced to watch that horrible 'Crossroads' movie starring Ralph Macchio. Yes, yes, count yourself lucky! I want you to write a song love!

STING: Bloody hell.


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