Defending My Amour: A More Critical Look at Outlandos D'Amour

In my last post, I professed my love for Outlandos D'Amour. There was the little kid in the closet listening to a reel-to-reel tape. There was me dancing like a fool. There was even a little commentary about how good the album is despite my nostalgic feelings.

But is the album really any good?

Back in 1979, Tom Carson of Rolling Stone felt "musically, Outlandos D'Amour has a convincing unity and drive," but "on the emotional level… it all seems somewhat hollow." Carson blames Sting for this: "He's so archly superior to the material that he fails to invest it with much feeling."

Sting, by Tom Carson's estimation, is a poser. And posers can't be punks.

In my own post, I mentioned that Sting "was always more literate (and pompous) than the usual bounty of rocker-wanna-be-poets," a comment that is not that much different than Carson's—except for the fact that I was using Sting's lyrical sense positively.

For me, Sting's use of typical rock tropes ("Can't Stand Losing You" and "So Lonely") isn't posing.

It's unadulterated.

Take a look at these lines from "Next To You":

I've had a thousand girls or maybe more
But I've never felt like this before
But I just don't know what's come over me
You took me over, take a look at me

The sentiment in the first line is catchy (reinforced by consistent syllabication to the next line), but typical. It does, however, set up the reversal that comes in the three lines that follow: Something different has resulted from the speaker's interaction with this particular girl. The capper (what substantiates my claim of "unadulterated") is the "You took me over, take a look at me."

This song is about not being able to let go. What was a fling ("just a love affair"), has become a self-destroying obsession.

Here again, "obsession" as a theme in music is nothing new. On Outlandos D'Amour, however, obsession, paranoia, and loneliness become epidemic. "Next To You" is not about being next to someone; it's about not being next to someone. "Roxanne" is an appeal to a prostitute. The speaker offers his pleas of love to coax her off the street—but his persistence implies that she would rather keep hooking than be saved by him. That can't be good—or typical.

Susie Goldring from the BBC agrees: "Suicide, abandoned loves, desperation and loneliness…hardly subjects for a pop album." Yet, precisely because the thematic down-notes match the "punky" up-beats, Goldring proclaims "Outlandos D'Amour is not only the first Police album, it's the best."

Carson's review was, by and large, positive in regards to the music itself. But the emotional flatness in the lyrics left him downbeat: "As entertainment, Outlandos D'Amour isn't monotonous—it's far too jumpy and brittle for that—but its mechanically minded emptiness masquerading as feeling makes you feel cheated, and more than a little empty yourself."

What can I say? I just can't agree. The manic energy of the music itself is perfectly matched with the mania in the lyrics.

All of it is infectious.

And good.

____

Works Cited

Carson, Tom. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. Rolling Stone 14 Jun. 1979. Rollingstone.com. 16 Feb. 2009 ( http://www.rollingstone.com/artists/thepolice/albums/album/269239/review/6067752/ outlandos_damour).

Goldring, Susie. Rev. of Outlandos D'Amour, by The Police. BBC /music and artists 9 Mar. 2007. BBC.com. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://www.bbc.co.uk/music/release/889x/).

Kapica, Steve. "My Love, My Outlandos D'Amour." Weblog entry. Teacher Man's World Of Words. 22 Jan. 2009. 16 Feb. 2009 (http://teachermansworldofwords.blogspot.com/2009/01/my-love-my-outlandos-damour.html).