May the force be with them (groan)...
BLEURRGH! I mean, the mere ideal of a band called The Crooks supporting The Police is enough to freeze the ball and chain off an escaping convict. Grimace, grimace and stand erect, serving time thoughout their set. The Crooks are not hot. Are not even lukewarm The Crooks are... hmm... tepid.
Oh well, the truth must out as they say, so I shamefacedly admit to walking in halfway through their set and propping the bar up through their last dying (sic) numbers. Any band which pens a song called 'Beans on Toast' deserves limbo, purgatory and me to review them.
Picture the scene if you will, a band which defies all catergories (is this pop? / is this new wave? / is this just another pin in the proverbial?). Their finale was a romantic little ditty entitled 'Trying To Make Love To You Is Like Banging My Head Against A Brick Wall'. Doesn't that just say it all?
But now it's time for The Police, and this is well - err a completely new kettle of fish. Visually they promote an image of three preoxide renegades of '77 (The Logan's Run of '78). Yup, The Police impressed.
The line up is Sting, bass / lead vocals; Andy Summers, guitar and Stewart Copeland, drums, but it's Sting and Andy who share the delights of monopolising all attention. Sting for his award winning performance as a latter-day Butlins Redcoat, also for his impromptu solos when ''things go wrong'', but Andy undoubtedley steals the Oscar for his poet laureatesque renditions of his affaire d'amour with a rubber doll. Wowee, wowee, these are what I call real lyrics.
Okay, perhaps they are a little tedious at times, but forgawdsake at least they show some spark of vitality. Anway, I've got to love 'em, if only because they dedicate 'Roxanne' to me. (Is this a compliment? - the song is about a prositute). Awwrright lads, it's a fair cop (Groan), quite an arresting little band (uuurgh!), so may... wait for it... the force be with you...
(c) Record Mirror by Bev Briggs
BLEURRGH! I mean, the mere ideal of a band called The Crooks supporting The Police is enough to freeze the ball and chain off an escaping convict. Grimace, grimace and stand erect, serving time thoughout their set. The Crooks are not hot. Are not even lukewarm The Crooks are... hmm... tepid.
Oh well, the truth must out as they say, so I shamefacedly admit to walking in halfway through their set and propping the bar up through their last dying (sic) numbers. Any band which pens a song called 'Beans on Toast' deserves limbo, purgatory and me to review them.
Picture the scene if you will, a band which defies all catergories (is this pop? / is this new wave? / is this just another pin in the proverbial?). Their finale was a romantic little ditty entitled 'Trying To Make Love To You Is Like Banging My Head Against A Brick Wall'. Doesn't that just say it all?
But now it's time for The Police, and this is well - err a completely new kettle of fish. Visually they promote an image of three preoxide renegades of '77 (The Logan's Run of '78). Yup, The Police impressed.
The line up is Sting, bass / lead vocals; Andy Summers, guitar and Stewart Copeland, drums, but it's Sting and Andy who share the delights of monopolising all attention. Sting for his award winning performance as a latter-day Butlins Redcoat, also for his impromptu solos when ''things go wrong'', but Andy undoubtedley steals the Oscar for his poet laureatesque renditions of his affaire d'amour with a rubber doll. Wowee, wowee, these are what I call real lyrics.
Okay, perhaps they are a little tedious at times, but forgawdsake at least they show some spark of vitality. Anway, I've got to love 'em, if only because they dedicate 'Roxanne' to me. (Is this a compliment? - the song is about a prositute). Awwrright lads, it's a fair cop (Groan), quite an arresting little band (uuurgh!), so may... wait for it... the force be with you...
(c) Record Mirror by Bev Briggs
PHOTOS
