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Feb 01, 1988
Interview: ROLLING STONE (1988)

Sting's cool, bracing tenor cuts through the fierce midday heat, shooting across the seemingly endless soccer field in Rio de Janeiro's giant Maracana Stadium, ricocheting off the faraway balcony back toward the stage. The words, intertwined with Steve Coleman's eerie sax breaks, echo once, twice, sometimes even a faint third time in the expanse of this huge concrete frying pan, the largest stadium in the world...

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Feb 01, 1988
Interview: THE PHILADELPHIA INQUIRER (1988)

The mercurial pop star, and former chief of Police, is in a hurry. His seven-piece band awaits him on stage for a final Florida rehearsal before embarking on the long American tour that will reach Philadelphia tonight in a sold-out Spectrum show. His shaggy-dog hair looks as though it could use a good washing. The tour publicist hands Sting a black pocket comb - he frowns and hands it back. The interview segment will beam nationwide into people's living rooms the next night, and here's Sting, one of the world's most visible pop artists, not afraid to look a little grungy...

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Jan 02, 1988
Interview: THE ST. PETERSBURG TIMES (1988)

Making Music On His Own Terms: Peeling off a sweatsock, Sting winces slightly at the gamy odor wafting through his dressing room. The pop star looks up with a wry smile and says, "Sorry about my feet. I played tennis today. That'd be good for the story: 'Sting plays tennis and he smells.'" Then, like a guy seated at the next locker, he strips off his long, black sweater to reveal a lithe, athletic upper body. There's no time for modesty. The first show of his American tour begins in two hours and he's squeezing in one more interview before a long massage...

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Jan 01, 1988
Interview: THE ATLANTA JOURNAL & CONSTITUTION (1988)

A rock'n'roll chameleon tries on some new colours: It is high noon Thursday and Sting, who has come to be regarded as a paragon of pop-music sophistication, is sitting on a couch in the genteel Don Ce Sar Registry Resort. He is sipping tea and reading reviews of the previous night's concert that opened his American tour when there's the crash and clatter of breaking china. Sting smiles and shrugs. He's neither embarrassed by knocking over some china nor enraged by what he has read. He's just human and, being human, has not risen above occasional clumsiness...

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Dec 01, 1987
Interview: MUSICIAN (1987)

Slapping Sting around - Can he handle the tough questions...? My power is in selling records," Sting says forthrightly. "I can dictate to the marketplace. Someone who has a cult following selling 5,000 records a year has no power whatever. It doesn't matter what he thinks or what he does. It might be very worthy and, for the people listening, enlightening. But basically if I have any power at all, it's as a mass-produced, mass-accepted artist. I like making hit records; I enjoy the feeling of trying to reach a common denominator without being the lowest..."

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Dec 01, 1987
Interview: Q (1987)

Sting holds court not in the music room with the sofas and grand piano nor in the oak panelled study with the leather topped desk and racing prints over the fireplace but in the kitchen. Not that this is any ordinary kitchen. Exposed oak beams run along the ceiling, pots and pans are hung from meat hooks over a stove in the centre and French windows open on to a well tended garden fringed with tall trees. Beyond the garden rolls the expansive greenery of Hampstead Heath, providing one of London's most exclusive views. The previous resident of this Georgian mansion was Yehudi Menuhin. Prince Faisal lives next door. "I've never seen him though," says Sting. "He's never popped in for a cuppa or asked to borrow any milk..."

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Nov 02, 1987
Interview: PULSE (1987)

"You'd better put the tape machine closer to me, I speak very softly," says Sting, leaning back for a minute from the conference table at A&M's New York offices. We're surrounded by the tools of the trade: VCR's, cassette decks, turntables, TV monitors, huge Altec speaker towers, telephones. The 32nd floor view out the windows is hazy this late September midday. Sting's running late for him, since he juggles his intense schedule with the ease born of organisation. But today is especially hectic. He's just left his morning workout, is on his way to auditions for his October Brazilian tour and he's got a photo shoot plus the inevitable MTV spot to do, and there are equally inevitable snags there. But for an hour or so, munching bagels, sipping OJ and coffee, he's ready to talk music, especially his new album 'Nothing Like The Sun'...

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Nov 01, 1987
Interview: MISS LONDON (1987)

No shades, no subterfuges, no stardom trips. At 36, Sting has finally exorcised the ghosts from his machine. Minty Clinch talks to Newcastle's most famous export. For me, Sting is a small neat blue-eyed demon - that's how we see him in the movies - who moves like the athlete he once was. We shake hands and he sneezes, the victim of a heavy cold. No demon, but flesh and blood. Polite, articulate, professional, very much in control. But very much a rock star. We may meet on a film set, but he insists that music still has top billing...

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Nov 01, 1987
Interview: SPIN (1987)

"Dire Straits did 'Brothers in Arms' here you know," says Sting. We are standing on the terrace outside of George Martin's Air Studios on the Caribbean island of Montserrat. The early morning banks of fog are beginning to break up, gliding past each other like ocean liners, revealing a glittering bay far below on the coast. "Seven weeks into recording - the same point we're at now - they decided to junk the whole thing. Started over again." He continues to stare out to sea. Suddenly he snatches his towel from the railing and sprints off towards the studio garage. "Let's go for a swim..."

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Oct 21, 1987
Interview: THE SYDNEY MORNING HERALD (1987)

Sting has a new record out. And he is busy rehearsing his band for a world tour which will bring him to Australia next year. Ben Cheshire reports from New York. Sting is tearing hungrily at a cream cheese bagel, wolfing down great chunks of it at a time. In less than a minute the bagel is demolished, washed down by a swig of carrot juice from a styrofoam cup. He looks up, ready for his 23rd interview in three weeks...

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