The Police live at Croke Park

It’s an unseasonably mild October evening in Croke Park, perfect concert weather. Despite forecasts to the contrary, the rain has held off. The elements have made an effort; it’s a pity The Police haven’t.
Throughout their two-hour set, comprising mostly of greatest hits, the trio do very little to engage the crowd. The flat performance is not helped by Sting’s half-hearted, cliched attempts at banter. Given their seniority, there is an absence of scissors kicks and stage antics, but lighting and effects could have easily enhanced the show. However, the visuals are unusually subdued for Croker – perhaps Sting is concerned about his carbon footprint or scrimping for that seventh mansion.
There are glimpses of former glory – an anthemic ‘Invisible Sun’ and a superbly crafted medley of ‘Voice Inside My Head’ and ‘When The World Is Running Down’ on which Andy Summers’ guitar work really shines. This is in contrast to the bulk of his re-interpretations, which are so cringeworthy they date the songs even further.
Most of the new arrangements are quite mellow, perhaps reflecting the advancing years. Unfortunately many of the revisions lack coherence and weaken the songs. ‘Roxanne’ was sent through the reunion mixer on the reggae cycle, producing a lacklustre version in which the guitar intro jarred awkwardly.
Sting is Sting, he looks great, the vocals are solid and the basslines are slick, but he is a charisma vacuum. Stewart Copeland is as impressive as ever, pounding away on a dizzying array of percussion instruments.
But overall the show is extremely underwhelming, each musician appearing to be on autopilot, and at €125 a pop people should get more than a perfunctory Best Of set.
‘King Of Pain’, ‘So Lonely’ and ‘Every Breath You Take’ are delivered dutifully for the first encore. They return again for an ill-advised ‘Next To You’ at the end of which Andy Summers looks like he may keel over. They end with a whimper, never having come close to a roar.