Performer: The Police
Songwriter: Sting
Original Release: Synchronicity
Year: 1983
Definitive Version: Live!, 1995
The Synchronicity concert in
Atlanta was a tape a played a lot, particularly my first quarter at
Northwestern, as I’ve mentioned. I knew it well, so well in fact that when The
Police released Live! with the Atlanta disc in a slightly different order (and
with some songs added or missing), it was jarring.
Take this song, for
instance. It’s not on the tape, which was made from, I think, a radio
broadcast. On Live!, it’s the second song out of the box, right after
Synchronicity I, which makes sense, except it sounds that this was added after
the fact and that the original order—Synchronicity I followed by Walking in
Your Footsteps—was correct.
Listen to the CD: The crowd
in the background at the beginning and end of this song doesn’t quite match
with that of Synchronicity I or Walking in Your Footsteps, whereas those two
songs do match. And with that, we’ll close the Art Bell conspiracy part of our
program today.
As I mentioned,
Synchronicity was a constant play in the basement at Beth’s house, pretty much
from the time the album hit the streets in 1983 to maybe 1985, so I can’t help
but think of things that we did during that time. And some things that you do,
for love, you know are idiotic—even at the time you do them.
In 1984, I got the word from
Beth. Adam Ant was touring, and Beth’s younger sister, Erin, wanted to see him
at Vet’s Memorial in Columbus, but her mom wouldn’t let Erin go by herself, and
she reeeeeeally wanted to see him, so ... I think you can see where this is
going, right?
I liked Goody Two Shoes as
much as the next straight male—the babe in the video was HOT—but every man has
his limits. Of course, making sure that you stay in good with the parents of
the daughter with whom just started enjoying intimacy was a consideration not
to be taken lightly. In other words, what choice did I have? Sure, I’ll take
Erin. Beth said she would make it worth my while.
As good fortune had it, the
show was in March over spring break, so I didn’t have to skip school to act as
chaperone. The better news was the warmup act was The Romantics, whom I liked.
As far as I was concerned, I was going to The Romantics concert.
It was Beth and I, and Erin
and a friend of hers … and about 4,000 other women, mostly teenagers. At one
point, I turned around and saw the reviewer for The Dispatch sitting a row or
two behind me. We were in the top 5 percentile in terms of age—I was a four
months shy of 20—and the only two guys in our section.
The Romantics were OK and
then Adam Ant came out, and a blizzard of bras being thrown on stage commenced.
He would collect the bras and hang them from a mikestand, and by the end of the
show, he must have had 50 up there.
That could have been awesome
except I never saw anyone actually remove one of the aforementioned garments
before hurling it on stage. I also never saw a pair of panties go up on stage
either. The whole thing seemed a bit sanitized and, I might add, choreographed,
if I may re-enter the pointy tin-foil-hat studios.
I’ve been to worse concerts.
Overall, it wasn’t that bad. I liked when he busted out two “oldies” of which
the girls in the audience weren’t familiar: Stand and Deliver and Antmusic.
Most important, I had done the right thing and gotten in good with the parents
by taking Erin to see Adam Ant for the first time.
As we were leaving, Erin
said he wasn’t as good as he was the first time. Wait, what? Yeah, she said, he
was at Vet’s in 1983; she went with friends and he was better then.
Cue camera 2 for close up on
my face and the band: Wom, womp, womp waaaaahhhhhhhmp.
Fortunately, Beth made good
on her promise, and I can’t say I have any regrets about going.
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