Savia’s blog…

  “Every breath you take” sang, His Holiness of Pop, Sting, to a sell-out audience on July 23, at the Air Canada Centre, in Toronto. Sure it was The Police Reunion tour. Sure it was sold out. Yadda yadda yadda. But as far as I’m concerned, it was Gordon Sumner himself, in the flesh, serenading me. Sigh. I had gooseflesh the minute he sang “Roxanne” and then went to belt out such classics like “King of Pain” (incidentally I’ve heard a very good live cover version by Canada’s own Alanis Morisette – she infuses her own brand of rock into this haunting melody).   Before I ramble on about the talent that he is, let me rewind to the beginning of the show that marks an interesting phase – Sting’s son Joe Sumner (such a non-fussy name till you zone in on ‘Sumner’ and then have a moment of realisation to realise it’s Sting’s last name too!) and his band FictionPlane, were the opening act for Daddy dearest. I had my déjà vu moment when he sounded like his dad on a few tracks – not necessarily in style, but purely a strain of voice that had faint echoes and traces of his father’s vocal prowess. To Sumner Jr.’s credit, his style of music is very indie and very young. At times, I got the feeling that he was very inspired by the late Kurt Cobain.  After half hour or so of Junior’s playing, ‘THE’ man himself walked onto stage, dressed in skinny black pants and a ripped white tee, with his trademark metal bracelet and pendant around his neck in place. For those who only associate The Police with just “Every breath you take,” make sure you revisit the band’s old albums. Their signature sound is unmistakable and I wonder how Sting embarked upon creating an identity of his own. I still don’t think his music is entirely devoid of his earlier days’ influence. In any case, if you love music as much as I do, then just hearing some improvisations on originals made for a fantastic evening.   I have yet to see someone as magnetic as Sting – perhaps it is his chiselled face (drool) or the lean body (drool again!), but I’d wager a bet to say it’s most likely the sound. There’s something undeniably sensual about Sting’s music. It brings together blues, reggae, indie funk and just plain pop and still creates a distinctive sound. I’ve heard him, performing at an informal setting in Italy in 2001 (courtesy a television recording sadly!) and was fascinated by his musical dexterity. At the very start, he mentions casually that this recording is more experimental and not polished.  He added that he liked to surprise and throw a few curveballs once in a while. If I played baseball, I’d be a goner! That particular session was spell-binding and devastatingly sensitive.   Going back to him playing at the ACC, I think the memory will linger on as the first time I heard Sting play ‘live.’ And I say ‘first’ because I’m pretty sure there will be many such concerts to follow…

I glanced down at the copy of ‘Vogue’ and thought to myself, “I’ve met her!” I never imagined that I would get an opportunity to meet someone like her in my short journalistic career. Neither did I ever imagine that someone as ethereal as her, would be so real in every way. I thought back to the time I met her at a famous hotel back in Mumbai, India.

“Her interviews are running a tad late today but she will be with you shortly,” they said amidst a flurry of activity. Armed with a good book and a warm cup of coffee, my vigil began in a private seating area designated specially for the press. You are the last interview for the day, I was told and that worried me. Interviewees who are in meetings with the press all day, tend to give you unoriginal boring answers, since they’ve been asked almost everything you can possibly imagine. Favourite colour. Favourite designer. Thoughts on this city. Future projects. The most profound to the most mundane inquiries have already been made. What are the chances that I’ll find something that no one else has? But I was hopeful. As I sat and waited, I found a copy of yesterday’s newspaper featuring her, and adding that she was seemingly cold. You’re in trouble now, I told myself. Cold? Why cold? Then I caught myself falling into the familiar setting of a reader who believes everything that is written. A writer’s impression of her interviewee influences everything in the interview. That very impression is influenced by various other factors – traffic, interpersonal conflicts, terrible service, a long wait – anything that the writer goes through. It’s a truly honest writer who can put down to words the actual meeting than merge it with every other experience she has had before that interview.

As my mind ventured on to these arbitrary thoughts, the PR manager informed me that I could now meet her. I took a quick look at my watch. An hour and a half. That’s how long I had been waiting on a perfectly beautiful Saturday evening. Sigh. Her manager warned me of questions that could not be answered relating to some famous controversies that surrounded some of her close friends. You can ask her anything else you want, she said as if to reassure me of the spontaneity of this interview.

I walked and she stood up to greet me. Dressed in knee-length denim capris and a simple tee shirt, sans any make up, she looked a lot more beautiful than the visual images I’ve seen of her before. Waif thin and wondrously tall, it’s no wonder she stands out even today. Cheekbones that define her face and a small, sharp nose that seems to fit in with her image as a fashion diva. If first impressions count, you couldn’t get better than this.

What a beautiful name, she exclaimed. After the formalities were out of the way, we sat down and started talking. Having seen her picture so many times before, adorning the glossiest of magazines, to be in touching distance of someone so beautiful is something else. Words fail to describe her overall presence. During the course of the interview, she struck me as someone who carries her success with ease, without a second thought. Her answers were always preceded by a pause that was short and weighed. Not the typical impression I had of someone in her fraternity. Her awareness of her surroundings showed me a glimpse of how she processed information and maybe how traveling all over the world does in fact, open your mind to new thoughts. What impressed me most about her were her candid, straightforward answers. Although some answers were typical, she seemed thoughtful and sincere.

As the interview continued, I was intrigued at how sustained herself in an industry that always seeks younger, thinner, prettier. How can you possibly compete with someone who’s half your age and probably half your size? Is being beautiful cruel when you get older and you start to fade into the obscure recesses of public memory? She thought for a while and came up with an answer so real, it surprised me. I’d rather be old than the alternative. That’s to die! So forthright and blunt that it caught me off=guard for a second. To carry your age gracefully is a challenge but to accept it, is a whole other thing. Open to surgery and other ways to keep her youth, she still seemed very matter-of-fact about aging – a rather unusual approach for someone in the glamour industry.

As we wound up the interview, she stood up to greet me and invited me to a charity event later that evening. I declined on account of some personal commitments but as I walked out, I realised that I had my own lil’ taste of her life as a supermodel. Cover shots of her face, George Michael’s video simultaneously popped into my head. “She” was Linda Evangelista.

It’s been long overdue but my site is finally up and ready to be viewed… I still have a few glitches to be ironed out and I’m working on the same. Thank you for taking the time out to visit my site… Please drop by again!