Sting: Spritely septuagenarian gives Christchurch crowd a workout at his sole Kiwi concert

REVIEW: Thousands of Cantabrians can be forgiven for nursing hoarse throats, tired legs and sore hands throughout Thursday after an evening of revelry last night led by a spritely septuagenarian.

At times, Sting’s near two-hour set – during the sole Aotearoa outing of his multi-year, globetrotting My Songs tour – resembled more of a mass callisthenics class than a concert, as the packed Canterbury Arena leapt to its feet from the first chords of anthemic opener Message in a Bottle.

The King of call-and-response also regularly tested the crowd’s lung capacity and was pleased to find them in fine voice, as he worked his way through a hand-picked selection of tunes from throughout his 45-year career that he believes “tell the story of my life probably better than any others”.

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There were The Police classics Every Breath You Take, King of Pain, Walking on the Moon and Every Little Thing She Does is Magic, solo bangers If I Lose My Faith in You, Brand New Day, Desert Rose and Seven Days, as well as the more contemplative ballads like Fields of Gold and Shape of My Heart.

A striking figure in a grey t-shirt and black jean-ensemble that matched his close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair (he looked so good for his 71 years you’d swear he’d made a pact with a demon, or had a Dorian Gray-esque picture lurking in an attic somewhere), the man born Gordon Matthew Thomas Sumner also had the audience hanging on his every word in between each number, as he revealed he’d gone for a swim at Taylor’s Mistake earlier in the day, offered up advice on the best kind of love songs (definitely not the “I love you, you love me type”), invited everyone for a cup of tea at his “castle 3 miles south of Stonehenge”, semi-apologised for playing a few new pieces that may not have been as familiar and mused on what makes a song a hit: “To me, it was waking up in a hotel in 1977 and hearing the window cleaner whistling Roxanne.”

That was one of two songs Sting saved for his encore, the other, the haunting, 1988 guitar-led Fragile, which he dedicated to the people of Ukraine and the women of Iran, before promising “to see you all again”.

Earlier in the evening, late addition Bic Runga got a terrific reception on her return to her hometown. Resplendent in Midnight Blue, she delighted not only with a 45-minute set that included such beloved hits as Drive, Sway, Get Some Sleep and Bursting Through, but also with her fan-girlish enthusiasm for the main act. “I just met Sting,” she bubbled before she began, adding that she’d been “looking forward to this day for 47 years”.

Despite confessing that the relatively recent offer to join the festivities had resulted in none of her usual band being available – and she’d only just met up with her trio of accompanists – their combined musicianship was extremely slick and harmonious. It meant she left the stage still convinced it was “one of the greatest days ever” and that she might just have to “stage dive after this and sit down there”. She made good on the second-half of that promise, later spotted swaying along and taking photos of Sting from about nine rows back.

Runga herself was preceded by just over half-an-hour from opening act Joe Sumner. Sting’s eldest son endeared himself to early arrivers (which was probably the majority of those assembled) with his jaunty, upbeat pop, impressive guitar work, a stunning sustained high tone and description of Christchurch as “what London would be like if it was nice”.

If his song Jellybean, inspired by his children, was a smile-inducing slice of whimsy then his final tune Hope, dedicated to the people of Hawke’s Bay, where he and his Dad had been due to play later this week, before Cyclone Gabrielle scuppered those plans, who him an army of new fans.