If he had never played another note, Ten Summoner’s Tales would by itself have cemented Sting’s stature as one of the late 20th century’s premier song writers. The music on this 1994 release still beguiles and satisfies, neither one stingily.
‘If I Ever Lose My Faith in You’ proves Sting the past master of the oblique love song. He approaches his object in a circling pattern, canvassing all things that might serve as the existential center of the universe but fail to do so before the tenacious matter of his love for this woman. Though the Police hinted at the genre with the mildly obsessive ‘I’ll Be Watching You’ and Sting himself would crown it with ‘I’ll Still Love You’ on the Brand New Day CD, ‘Lose My Faith’ is the real flower in mature bloom. It is exquisite song-writing, performed unforgettably by what Sting has elsewhere called his ‘unschooled tenor’.
Rich, contemplative, plagued (yet again) by the memory of loss, the title track ‘Fields of Gold’ is among Sting’s career-topping tunes. By itself it would have established a lesser artist’s legacy.
Yet there is uproarious humor here too. `Love is Stronger than Justice’ spins its trope of visiting righteous men liberating a Mexican village from its evil overlords around the circumstance that `We only stopped for a few burritos …’ `Seven Days’ remains one of my favorite glimpses of Sting’s brand of self-deprecating humor. Its tale of pursuit of a woman whose future has also attracted of a rival the singer calls `Neanderthal’. Its turn of phrase captivates from the first line to the last and, so, must be quoted here:
Seven days was all she wrote
A kind of ultimatum note
She gave to me, she gave to me
When I thought the field had cleared
It seems another suit appeared
To challenge me, woe is me
Though I hate to make a choice
My options are decreasing mostly rapidly
Well well see
I don’t think shed bluff this time
I really have to make her mine
It’s plain to see
It’s him or meMonday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too lateThe fact that he’s six feet ten
Might instill fear in other men
But not in me, the mighty flea
Ask if I am mouse or man
The mirror squeaked, away I ran
He’ll murder me in time for his tea
Does it bother me at all
My rival is Neanderthal, it makes me think
Perhaps I need a drink
IQ is no problem here
We won’t be playing scrabble for her hand I fear
I need that beerMonday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursdays on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too lateSeven days will quickly go
The fact remains, I love her so
Seven days, so many ways
But I cant run awayMonday, I could wait till Tuesday
If I make up my mind
Wednesday would be fine, Thursday’s on my mind
Friday’d give me time, Saturday could wait
But Sunday’d be too late
Do I have to tell a story
Of a thousand rainy days since we first met
It’s a big enough umbrella
But it’s always me that ends up getting wet
With similar staying power, this version of `It’s Probably Me’ continues to haunt.
Discovering `The Shape of My Heart’ is this reviewer’s reward for the preparation of these lines. I had somehow missed this gloriously intuitive statement. Although this masterful work walks around naked without the music’s clothing, let us risk the embarrassment:
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn’t play for the money he wins
He doesn’t play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The numbers lead a danceI know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heartHe may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fadesI know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
That’s not the shape, the shape of my heartAnd if I told you that I loved you
You’d maybe think there’s something wrong
I’m not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who smile are lostI know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that’s not the shape of my heart
That’s not the shape of my heart
This little-known tune is worth the price of the CD here. But there is so much more on this, Sting’s fourth solo studio album. Remarkable, enduring artistry, pieces of it available alternatively on the Fields of Gold anthology.
Canter Bridge 
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