Nights in Nerima, Sake and Sting — Masayuki Hamaoka

Nights in Nerima, Sake and Sting

Tonight, I'm listening to Sting.

This album is one I used to listen to frequently when I was still in my twenties. At the time, I was living in Nerima, Tokyo. To be more accurate, it was less "living" and more "staying as a guest" that better describes the situation. There was someone who took care of me, and whenever this person had a drink, they would always say:

"Sting is great."

That person loved jazz. Why would someone who usually listened only to jazz recommend Sting? A rock musician who had disbanded The Police and gone solo. That was my perception of him. It seemed a bit unexpected to hear that name from someone who loved jazz.

Rock That a Jazz Lover Acknowledged

So I gave it a listen. '…Nothing Like the Sun'. An album from 1987.

After listening, I finally understood.

This album is packed with jazz elements. Sting's bass lines were already filled with jazz sensibilities, but on this album, that comes to the forefront. Kenny Kirkland on piano, Branford Marsalis on saxophone. Jazz heavyweights participated as sidemen, creating music that was neither rock nor jazz, but something only Sting could create.

The reason that person kept saying "Sting is great" finally made sense to me. Genre barriers are irrelevant when genuine music resonates with genuine ears. A jazz lover appreciating Sting — there was nothing strange about that at all.

Fragile — Longing for the Classical Guitar

Among the 12 tracks, my favorite is "Fragile."

That classical guitar intro. Quietly, yet with clear intention, the tone unfolds. A melody that evokes South American atmosphere, with Sting's voice layering over it. The lyrics speak about violence and peace, yet it's beautiful throughout. Strength and fragility coexist — truly a song that lives up to its title.

I wanted to play classical guitar that beautifully. With that thought, I even bought an electric classical guitar. The soft resonance of nylon strings, completely different from steel strings. I practiced that Fragile phrase countless times, wanting to play it with my own fingers.

Even now, I still want to buy a classical guitar and try playing again. That feeling from back then hasn't changed, no matter how many years have passed.

The Stage from Behind the Scenes

Actually, I was involved in Sting's Tokyo concert.

Though I wasn't in the audience. I worked part-time loading and unloading equipment. Massive amplifiers, speakers, lighting equipment. How much gear is needed to support that stage? As someone working behind the scenes, sweating away, I physically understood the scale of music.

During the load-out, I was able to glimpse the stage for just a moment.

It was Sting —.

He was cool.

The owner of that voice I'd heard countless times on CD was right there. We were breathing the same air in the same space. It's different from the view from the audience. From behind the scenes, the stage directly conveys the passion of those delivering the music. I still clearly remember that moment.

A CD I've Always Kept

'…Nothing Like the Sun' is an album filled with various memories for me.

Memories of staying as a guest in Nerima. Nights when that jazz-loving person would talk with sake in hand. The day I heard Fragile and picked up an electric classical guitar. And that brief moment of seeing Sting from the stage at my part-time job.

I've always kept this CD. Through multiple moves, I've never let it go. I never will.

It's the best.

Editorial Note

Masayuki Hamaoka is from the same hometown as me (Namio). We haven't met in person very often, but I always enjoy his album-focused music introductions on Facebook.

The albums he introduces are very close to my taste. So whenever I see Hamaoka's posts, I often think, "Oh, I should listen to this again after a long time," and end up revisiting them. I already think of him as someone who "always does Album Sweet."

This Sting '…Nothing Like the Sun' is exactly that. Nights of drinking sake and discussing Sting's greatness at that guest house in Nerima — this article reminded me once again that such moments are what make music a lifelong companion.