Happy 40th Anniversary to The Police’s third studio album Zenyattà Mondatta, originally released October 3, 1980.
Discovering a band at the peak of their ascent is a surefire way to capture them in all their glory. It’s also a great way to get a quick fill of music without the wait as you delve into their back catalogue. For me, discovering The Police as a kid during their Synchronicity (1983) era and then really cementing my excitement around them with the 1986 release of Every Breath You Take: The Singles, I was ready to save up my pocket money to slowly wind my way back through their catalogue with monthly purchases of CDs.
Having started playing drums a few years earlier, I was immediately drawn to the intricate grooves of maestro, Stewart Copeland. His entrancing dub-reggae-rock style with delayed hi-hat and ricochet rimshots had me hooked. And so I worked my way from their first release to their last and discovered a wealth of unmatched music along the way.
And in the midst of the journey was Zenyattà Mondatta, the collective’s third album release. It’s perhaps no coincidence that this album falls right in the middle of their releases with two post-punk albums proceeding it, and two more musically expansive albums to follow.
This is the turning point of a band. Strapping on the booster rockets, as they pushed to be more than was expected of them and headed towards fulfilling their ambition to be the biggest band in the world.
And whilst the trio themselves have looked back and felt underwhelmed by the album, feeling its rushed four-week recording schedule resulted in it falling short of the mark, it stands as my favorite album from them.
It’s the album that finds all members shining and bringing their best, despite their legendary infighting.
Even on a track like “Behind My Camel,” which, for all intents and purposes, is a solo track by Andy Summers with Sting refusing to play on it and Stewart Copeland reluctantly adding his trademark drums, the song still fits the overall band’s sound.
Andy Summers would have the last laugh though, as the track scored a GRAMMY Award for Best Rock Instrumental Performance.
The album’s other GRAMMY win went to album opener “Don’t Stand So Close To Me” for Best Rock Performance. “Don’t Stand” is a brooding tale of obsession and temptation from both sides of a student-and-teacher relationship. Slightly dubious subject matter for a Number 1 hit single, the track is a bouncy tawdry affair of temptation, seduction, and guilt with even a Lolita callout. It might be the benchmark for the way Sting could craft a song to have the whole world sing along to darker lyrics a la the stalker narrative of “Every Breath You Take.”
“Don’t Stand So Close To Me” is the album’s perfect opener, providing a sonic glimpse into what will follow. There’s a more expansive sound present, the inclusion of keys, synths and even the first appearance of synth guitar. It’s The Police painting with a wider and more vibrant palette.
The album also shows The Police broadening their subject matter and taking a wider, more political world view as evidenced by the Copeland penned “Bombs Away” with its urgent groove and reflections on the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan.
It’s also pulled sharply into focus as Sting details the ongoing issue of world hunger, its coverage, and a growing apathy. A line like “Too many cameras and not enough food” showcases Sting’s sharp pen and his ability to encapsulate a growing issue in a tight confronting line.
“Driven To Tears” jitters along in presence and propulsion, relentlessly building in intensity like the nagging guilt it portrays. Copeland’s drumming in particular is filled with little flourishes and accents that really shape the song and highlights its many moods. Special mention should also go to Sting’s bass playing here, as he lays down the track’s ongoing groove.
And the lengthy titled “When The World Is Running Down, You Make The Best Of What’s Still Around” imagines a life as the sole survivor in a post-apocalyptic world. The creeping bass work, and the ethereal guitar playing add a sense of drama to the song that quickly hypnotizes and draws you in. Built around a repetitive chord progression the song became an epic jam session in later live performances and extended even further when Sting would combine it with “Bring On The Night” to epic proportions.
Similarly, the slow reggae dub feel of “Shadows In The Rain” has a sense of paranoia to it that is strangely calming in its presentation. Sting would revamp the track as a blistering jazz retelling on his debut solo outing The Dream Of The Blue Turtles.
But it’s not all heavy. The joyous (initially) flippancy of “De Do Do Do, De Da Da Da” builds on the rock-reggae vibe The Police had cornered and delivers a rousing singalong. Of course, to reduce the song to its simple chorus is to fall into the trap laid by Sting who spends the verses discussing the power of simplicity, especially in language.
Likewise, “Man In A Suitcase” with its dirge on touring life is presented against a hyper, skipping groove that quickly runs its course as it captivates you. And “Canary In A Coalmine” rips through an overly cautious existence against a double time boogie.
The psychodrama of “Voices Inside My Head” with its upbeat grove and rhythmic melody becomes almost mantra-like as Sting sings the song’s single lyric over and over. Ever impatient for a straightforward groove, Copeland adds the perfect mix of trills and stop-start splashes to keep the song sounding vibrant and vital.
And it’s no surprise that album closer “The Other Way Of Stopping” (another instrumental—this time penned by Copeland) is anchored around a delay triggered workout around the drum kit, with Sting and Summers finding their place to help propel the track along. It’s The Police willing to have a little more fun, a little more adventure.
For all of its big pop hits, Zenyattà Mondatta is The Police experimenting with their sound and taking bigger risks. It lays the foundation for how they would record and what they would produce in the following years with the brilliant Ghost In The Machine (1981) and the global smash Synchronicity. Short and sharp at only 38 minutes long, and with 11 tracks, it’s The Police finding their moment through a mix of ambitious pop gems and ambitious undertakings.
It’s a Top 20 album of all time for me, and one that was my unofficial drum teacher. And it deserves to be celebrated and dusted off for another worthy spin.
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