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Sting and Annie stir vocal chemistry
But a drained and detached Sting needs dash of partner's lust for life No rust shows on Lennox's pipes .

JORDAN ZIVITZ
The Gazette


July 14, 2004


Last night's Sting/Annie Lennox double-header at the Bell Centre seemed like a pretty even pairing in theory: Two enduring singers from two of the most important bands of the late 1970s and 1980s (the Police and Eurythmics, respectively), both of whom have glided into adult-contemporary territory with little to no dignity lost. But in the end, Lennox was the real stinger.

If anything, going in, the odds leaned in the other direction. Her Theatre St. Denis show last year earned wall-to-wall raves, but there were nagging doubts whether Lennox would be able to adequately fill the Bell Centre stage. Her latest album, Bare, is a delight, but its sombre tone is hardly conducive to an arena concert, and it's been years since her last headlining tour in venues this size.

As soon as she strode out for Legend in My Living Room, though, it was as if Lennox never went into her decade-long retreat from music. Her presentation was occasionally less than inviting - as with the voguing in No More I Love Yous - but it was never less than commanding.

After all these years, Lennox still has one of the purest voices in pop. The chorus of Little Bird betrayed a loss of a few notes in her upper register, but the naked introduction to Pavement Cracks was shiver-inducing, and could only have come from an artist who hasn't let any rust gather on her pipes.

Lennox's only serious miscalculation was including Cold, a hushed number that should be left to theatre concerts. The momentum was regained with the haunting Here Comes the Rain Again; by the time she strutted through a revamped Missionary Man and rock-hard I Need a Man, the nearly 13,500 in attendance - most of whom presumably forked over the hefty admission price mostly to see Sting - couldn't be dragged back into their chairs.

Most artists would be biting their nails beyond the quick at the thought of following a set of that calibre, but if there's one thing Sting has never lacked, it's self-belief. Unfortunately, if there's one thing he does lack, it's a new album that doesn't sound telegraphed in from the most self-satisfied reaches of his psyche.

As if to draw attention to the paucity of inspiration on last year's Sacred Love, Sting started his performance with the techno-fied travesty Send Your Love. In concert, as on CD, it was an embarrassment to hear a song that belongs at Club Dome coming from one of the most graceful singers in popular music.

It was a rare lapse in taste in a set that was tasteful to a fault. Synchronicity II was drained of some of its vitality, but after Send Your Love it was a relief just to hear Sting's Everest-climbing tenor paired with a worthy song. All the same, Sting consistently came off as too cool and detached when compared to Lennox. Instead of elevating her touring partner's game, Lennox inadvertently highlighted his current off-balance diet of three cups slickness to one cup soul.

In picking live delegates from Sacred Love, Sting wisely chose Dead Man's Rope - the most affecting melody on an album that's hardly brimming with them. But it was when Lennox returned for We'll Be Together that the temperature rose, her playful demeanour a striking counterpoint to Sting's buttoned-up stride. The vocal chemistry was undeniable, and one wishes there had been more of it on offer.