Stewart:
On the Police
"In the Police, it got to the point where it was very difficult to do anything outside of the group;
that's why we broke up. Anything that we wanted to do outside the group distracted from the
corporation that had built up around the band."
April, 1990 issue of Modern Drummer
Asked about his involvement in the recently-made "Behind The Music" (about Sting, not the
Police), Copeland says, "I had to put on, like, six overcoats and several pairs of shades to
embark on that kind of show, you know? It's like, 'Oh no! Don't open that door, don't open that
door!" As you can see (and hear), Copeland is a very level-headed guy, funny, talented, and
while he freely explains why there were many fights about the democratic process of
songwriting, he says there was never any competition over groupies. "There's 500 of them out
there, what's to compete over?" he wonders. "You take 300 of them, I'll take 100 of them, that
still leaves 99 too many. The only competition was over breakfast the next morning, in regaling
each other with the adventures and truth is stranger than fiction. I certainly didn't elaborate and
I believe Andy and Sting didn't either."
What kind of adventures?
"The shit that happened was so exotic and so strange that if I had made it up, my imagination
isn't as exotic as some of the strange stuff that happened."
You're going to tell me some exotic stories, right?
"No, not even a one. I'm married, I've got seven children."
You can be vague about the details.
"Imagine all of the evils, temptations, and stuff of rock & roll. Yes, it was there, yes, we partook
of all of it, and we survived it all, it's safely in the memory banks. But no, you're not going to gets
any details. Just take your imagination and multiply it by ten and that's pretty much where it was
at. I just can't give you any anecdotes."
December, 1999 ICON Magazine
"..the worst catastrophe can help your show. For
instance: Madison Square Garden, it's the Police's first time headlining in a big arena. We had
made the big jump from playing colleges and so on, and there we were at our first arena date.
We had a lot of worries: Could we sell out the Garden? We sold out in a few hours. Would we be
able to communicate with the audience from that big stage like the real big bands? Who knows?
Now, this was a while ago, but these were some of the unknowns that we were concerned
about.
So at the gig, during the performance, my bass drum skin broke! Not a tom-tom that you can just
lift off or turn over or a snare drum that you have a back-up for, but the bass drum! They had to
basically take the kit apart to get to the head and change it. I also had all kinds of electronics
attached to it; that's probably the worst show-stopper of them all. Well, the roadies dove on that
drum like bees. Meanwhile, Sting told a few jokes, Andy and I did a little dance on the front of the
stage, we did a running commentary on how the skin was being replaced. We kept the audience
focused on us, so that when it was all over and we kicked in the next song, the place went
berserk. So that catastrophe ended up helping us. And that was a good lesson, because it
taught us that we could over-come anything live, even in a big arena. The attitude to have is,
"Hey, my drum-head broke, so what? So shoot me." If you handle it with confidence, nothing bad
can happen to you out there.
April, 1990 Modern drummer
CD: Do you agree with Sting's statement: "At our best we're a group that says something quite
sophisticated in a very simple way"?
SC: Yes. There's many different angles on this group, and the main one, I suppose, is that with
all our cleverness we can state something simple, simply (pause) and movingly; that's the most
important thing, the emotion. A lot of bands with a lot of technique overshoot the mark, and it's
very difficult not to.
CD: Sting has also said that your most creative material - Roxanne, Every Little Thing She Does Is
Magic, Don't Stand So Close To Me - are often your biggest hits because the commerciality is
accidental, not planned. And you've said that you have two types of ears - professional and emotional.
Couldn't your professional ears hear the commerciality in these songs when you were working on
them?
SC: It's too subjective for that. I suppose you'd have to say there's a third set of ears for our
own material. We've been very fortunate. We can thank the stars above that we've been able to
follow our instincts, make music that turns ourselves on, and not even think about the world
outside - the world of radio airplay and record sales - and we've been blessed with the right
instincts, I guess.
CD: Do Sting and Andy perceive of you as a timekeeper?
SC: Heh, well, somebody's got to keep the time.
CD: The first three tunes on Outlandos D'Amour pretty clearly show the development of the Police
sound, from energetic punk rock to the pop-reggae hybrid that was a key to your early success...
SC: Sure, from Next To You, through So Lonely, to Roxanne...
CD: Did the reggae influence in the band come from you?
SC: It takes two to tango, and three to reggae.
CD: But didn't you teach Sting the bass pattern on Roxanne?
SC: Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but this is a story that goes way back, and Sting and I
have argued over this but the actually historical facts are that I lent him some Bob Marley records
for a Christmas party, and that was the point when suddenly he started playing reggae bass
lines to go with my reggae drum beats. See, if you play reggae drums without the bass lines or
the guitar, it sounds like a bossa nova; it just doesn't work; it isn't a rhythm. That's the great
thing about reggae - it's an interactive form; no one instrument by itself can play it.
CD: What's the genesis of a Police song?
SC: We each come in with a demo tape, and then we listen to them, and the ones that kind of
make our ears prick up - make us think, "Yeah, that could be a Police song" - we work on and try
things with, as far as inspiration takes us. The main thing which holds it together, and makes us
persevere with it, is the song itself. So as soon as that's together, it's the arrangement around it
where all the work comes in.
CD: Do the lyrics only represent the thoughts of the original composer?
SC: To a certain extent, but they also have to represent the feelings of the other two. For
instance, Invisible Sun - Sting wrote that about Belfast, but to me it's about Beirut. If I disagree
with a point that Sting is trying to make (in the lyric), I'll argue with him about it. But we haven't
established an ideological stance which Sting then goes away with and composes songs about.
CD: How about some of the collaborative compositions, other than the jams, like Rehumanize
Yourself, where you wrote the music and Sting the lyrics?
SC: Well, I wrote a song that wasn't about anything in particular; I try to apply myself to lyrics
occasionally, but it's not an art form that I really have a lot to say with. You see Sting has to sing
it so he gets a lot of latitude as far as what he sings.
CD: On the second Police LP you composed three tunes, another in collaboration with Sting, and two
were credited to the group. On the latest record it's eight Sting compositions, with one each by you
and Andy. You've compared this latter development to the token Noel Redding tune on a Jimi Hendrix
LP.
SC: I never should have opened my mouth...
CD: Are the Police becoming the Sting Experience?
SC: Not creatively, no. As far as composing materials, Sting writes his lyrics with a song to go
around it, and those are good tunes to do. As far as my own composition, I've got my
(soundtrack) scores, and I prefer that writing because I don't have to think of a lyric for all the
music I write. I don't have to organise it into a song; I have to organise it to a picture. Actually,
compositionally I find that more inspiring. And infact, it's taken a weight off me, trying to write
Police songs.
CD: The Police was originally your band. Do you resent Sting becoming the focal point?
SC: It still is my band...
May, 1984 issue of Downbeat Magazine
"I'll turn up with songs, but Sting turns up with many more songs. On the last album I had three
songs and Sting had ten. But for a start, I have trouble with words, because I'm not singing them
myself, and I have a hard time putting myself into his shoes and trying to write a song which
would mean something to him. I'm automatically in a false situation, unless I try and sing it myself
and I personally don't like my own voice. I don't like the noise my larynx makes and I'm
embarrassed. So I can't write songs for myself to sing. Besides, why should I sing when there's
Sting around? But I participate on Sting's material."
October, 1980 issue of Musicians Only magazine
on puff daddy's use of every breath you take:
Stewart Copeland, founder and drummer of the Police, doesn't like any of Puffy's stuff, but when
asked if he likes the royalty checks he receives when people borrow Police songs, he says, 'Damn
tootin'!' "The funny thing is," Copeland continues, "to be a bitch here for a minute on somebody
else's behalf - what Puffy took was not the lyric, not the vocal, not the bass line, not the melody.
What he took was Andy [Summers]'s guitar lick, which Andy wrote. Sting didn't write that guitar
part - that's one of Andy's. Message in a Bottle, Sting wrote that guitar part, and Andy just played
Sting's part. But Every Breath You Take, that's Andy's, and it was that guitar arpeggio that was
the meat of Puffy's hit. And that's what all the fights were about; we would battle with Sting just
to piss on his tracks, to make it ours. Originally Sting wrote Every Breath You Take as a Hammond
organ piece, sort of like a gospel-spiritual thing. Now, the organ version would have been a
smash hit anyway, just between you and me. You can't fuck up a song like that. But Andy did
come up with that guitar part, which made it even better."
December, 1999 ICON Magazine
What do you miss about the band?
The thing I remember most fondly were the concerts. The early days in the van were fun. The next stage,
when we were in airport lounges all day, was miserable. And then when we had our own plane, that was
comfortable. Those shows were hassle-free, and there was just the music without distractions.
July, 1995 issue of People Magazine
BeCaUSE bEcaUse BeCAuse!! BECAUSE Of ThE WoNDeRfUL ThIngS he DOeS!! LA LA LA LA LA LA..
