Sting offers his fans a musical journey at the National Auditorium...

Mexico City. Gospel, soul, chamber music, poetry, and a whole lot of joy were the ingredients of Sting's concert this Friday night at the National Auditorium, where a passionate, excited crowd experienced, one by one, the 20 pieces played by Gordon Matthew Thomas Summer (Sting) with his partner, his equal, Dominic Miller on guitar, and drummer Chris Maas, members of The New Power Trio, the star of the Sting 3.0 Tour.

From the opening piece, "Message in a Bottle," to the second and final piece of the evening, "Fragile," these musicians traced the life stories of the crowd, who sang along to the songs of their sentimental and intimate upbringing, that of poetry, in a couple of hours that will go down as one of those experiences in which one ends up hoarse, sweaty, happy after having sung, danced, closed one's eyes, jumped, hugged, and been scorched by a torrent of verse, a torrent of joy, and a wellspring of sound that owes much to reggae, spiritual, literature, Elizabethan music, and Sting's powerful voice.

Contrary to what many expected, an "anthology" of The Police's greatest hits was not heard, because the three musicians never did what so many like so much: play them "as on the record."

On the contrary, they transformed those pieces, which at first were recognizable and then quickly mutated, into devices conducive to jam sessions, instrumental music, music that hadn't been heard until last night, because it had never been played like last night: in a mix of jazz improvisation, sudden impressions, interweavings of unexpected sounds, all born from the magic of the moment.

Almost half a century after The Police was founded, the cultural heritage built by founders Sting, Stewart Copeland, and the Corsican Henri Padovani, and later Andy Summers, and then Gordon Matthew himself, into a dazzling and always surprising solo career, from astonishment to astonishment, manifested itself in the National Auditorium as an identity, that of each of the people who occupied the ten thousand seats, a reason for being, an emblem, and a growing joy.

In case there was any doubt, the supreme mastery of the great sound-maker Dominic Miller, the creator of the magic of Sting's sound, was evident, at the same time that he showed himself to be the great bassist that he is, while Christian Maas made a great show of the excess of brass in his percussion setup: too many cymbals, too few drum heads, a din. A tame drum.

Verses, choruses, bridges, the construction of the lateral sense of harmony invented by Sting and enriched by Dominic Miller with the meditative serenity with which he transforms the guitar into an oasis, a sanctuary, a space of light, transformed the evening, to the delight of those present, into a loving ritual of happiness.

Thus, Shape of My Heart, the short symphony they wrote together, sounded like the brief gush of water from a fountain sounds in dreams, the ripples that expand when a stone, falling on one of drummer Maas's drumheads, gave rise to circles that grow and grow and rise to the very last seat in the stands.

Ah, the stands: couples held hands, turned to look at each other, embraced. Some let trickles of water run from their eyes. Others simply jumped, shouted, and sang along to all the songs, because they all knew them, and that made Sting very happy. He kept clasping his hands in the Buddhist style to say thank you to everyone.

And we all smiled and clasped our hands last night and also said in unison: thank you, beloved Sting, thank you, beloved Dominic, thank you Christian Maas, thank you for making us live, because to sing is to live.

Sting is at the peak of his career. He's never played bass like that, so deep and so powerful, and he's never sung like that, so high and so powerful. Dominic Miller, a poet with a guitar. Their thing, their thing, is poetry. It was a beautiful concert.

(c) La Jornada by Pablo Espinosa