Gut Reactions (post-gig memories and other trips): Sting 3.0, Summer Sessions, Bellahouston Park, Glasgow. Wednesday 25th June 2025

The last time I went to a gig at Bellahouston Park, I parked miles away and got hugely irritated as I passed many empty spaces on the way to the venue. Tonight, I parked closer, but didn't get irritated as I reached Corkerhill Road and saw only a couple of cars parked there. I was chilled.

Chilled would be a good term to describe Sting. The show isn't about gimmicks. It's about playing the music that spans his career. Sting 3.0 is as close as you're ever likely to get to The Police lineup, just Sting, a drummer and a guitarist. The crowd were definitely up for being witnesses.

We had VIP tickets, so took the opportunity to chill in the private garden area, grabbing a surprisingly delicious burger from one of the food vendors and a drink. There were many benches and seats, but still not enough to accommodate everyone, even with a few forward-thinking people bringing their own.

We missed the opening act, Sophie Grey. I couldn't even tell you what she sounded like as the mobile DJ, blasting out tunes from his Range Rover in the VIP area, was so loud we couldn't hear her.

Giving up our seats, we headed across to the main site before Alison Moyet was due to take the stage, showing our VIP wristbands to access the Gold Circle. The area wasn't busy. I spotted a uni pal and said hello. It was most unlike me to be so confident, but she'd posted on FB an image of the gig, so the odds were in my favour that it was her. She took the selfie.

Returning to my wife, I spotted a short lady ahead of us and manoeuvred into the gap behind her, leaving us a clear view of the stage. Then her tall, Yellow Submarine cap-wearing husband appeared and stood behind her, blocking my wife's view. She rolled her eyes at me for giving up the spot we'd had, where she could see. To be fair, the influx of people meant that nowhere was entirely safe from view blocking. Later, a geriatric in a white baseball cap pushed past and stopped in front of her. Maybe he never saw her. The man was so short-sighted, he often shot videos of the big screen rather than the stage, even though the stage was closer. To be fair, many of the oldies did the same. I would usually get stressed over such activities, but I'd decided to enjoy the show. If I managed to shoot any videos myself or snap a few pictures for this blog, all the better, but if not, it was no big deal (the Tim Minchin opener must have struck a chord)..

Alison Moyet's set was good, though I have to admit I only knew a few of her songs. The staging was somewhat static; her musicians hardly moved about, and the backdrop screen didn't change. That didn't really matter, though, as we were all enthralled by Alison's voice. The few songs they recognised energised the crowd to sing along. Alison may be in her mid-sixties, but her voice remains potent, and she looks fantastic. I'm not a massive fan of electronic pop music, with its soulless drum machine beats, but I enjoyed the '80s nostalgia.

"Don't Go"

The pushy crowd invaders emerged in strength after Alison. Close to us, a man had sat down on the grass, creating the illusion of a gap and drawing many of them into our area. He deserved to get crushed for such idiocy!

Sting, belying his seventy-three years, looked lithe as he took the stage; his voice, aged like a mature whisky, was as powerful as ever; his unshowy band, who were both exquisite musicians, rarely stole the limelight. This was Sting 3.0, not a Police tribute act. Sting was in charge, even when he pretended that the guitarist had chosen what they were about to play next.

If I were to raise any complaint, it would be to say the massive screen behind the band was underutilised. For the majority of the show, it displayed generic background images. It worked best when it showed the band playing, adding to the event's grandeur.

As always, one drunk fan irked me, though not as much as he might. I cut him some slack because he was obviously a huge Police fan (the band, not the constabulary). He couldn't help that his vocal appreciation of his hero sounded like he'd finally reached orgasm, nor could he change his tone deaf voice to sing in tune. The fact that his wife agreed to hold his tray of pints in the jostling crowd speaks (spilled) volumes about how much she loved him. To be fair, she was tipsy too.

The night finished on a quieter, more reflective song, Fragile, with Sting swapping his bass for an acoustic (Spanish?) guitar. The rain had started, but it didn't dampen our spirits as we walked back to the car afterwards. It had been a great concert.

Glasgow salutes you, Sting.

Setlist
Message in a Bottle (The Police song)
If I Ever Lose My Faith in You
Englishman in New York
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic (The Police song)
Fields of Gold
Mad About You
Why Should I Cry for You?
All This Time
Driven to Tears (The Police song)
A Thousand Years
Can't Stand Losing You (The Police song)
Shape of My Heart
Walking on the Moon (The Police song)
So Lonely (The Police song)
Desert Rose
King of Pain (The Police song)
Every Breath You Take (The Police song)

Encore:
Roxanne (The Police song)
Fragile