A worshipper imagines a dreamy conversation with His Stingness

Kimberley McGee

Wednesday, Oct. 13, 1999 | 9:35 a.m.

Who: Sting.

When: 8 p.m. Thursday, Friday and Saturday.

Where: The Joint at the Hard Rock hotel-casino.

Tickets: On Thursday, $50 for standing room only, $150 for balcony seats and $250 for levels one and two. On Friday and Saturday, $75 for standing room only, $250 for levels two, three and balcony, and $300 for level one.

Information: Call 693-5066.

What do you ask a perfect being?

A man whose music has gotten you over life's humps and let you wallow in your pity just long enough to let go of the pain. The kind of music that makes you drive around the block one more time until the song is over on the car radio.

Recently the Sun had the opportunity to interview the musical artist Sting. Well, almost. In fact, it was just passing phone calls with people close to people who are close to His Stingness.

But, the idea of interviewing Sting was enough to get Accent staffers -- the female ones, anyway -- tittering. Sting performs his "Brand New Day" album and tour in three shows Thursday through Saturday at the Hard Rock hotel-casino's cozy concert venue, The Joint. Fans have shelled out up to $300 for seats, even in the back behind the other awed devotees, knowing it will be enough just to be in the same room as The Man himself.

His new album, "Brand New Day," is another masterpiece with swirling horns, Algerian pop music and a few surprises thrown in for his dedicated worshippers who know he'll always come through with something to stimulate a fan's music palate. Stevie Wonder and James Taylor make guests appearances as well.

But, alas, The Summoner himself decided he'd had enough of journalistic prodding for this stop of the tour. Phew! Disappointed? Sure. Relieved? A little bit. I mean, really, what do you ask Sting that is fresh and interesting -- while also speaking intelligently throughout the interview? It probably would have gone something like this:

Worshipper: Duh, um, SSSSting?

His Stingness: 'Allo there.

Worshipper: What's it ... what's it like to be perfect?

(Stupid! Stupid question!)

His Stingness: Ah, well, thank you, but I wouldn't say that I was perfect. I practice yoga every day ...

(At this point, I've lost track of what we are talking about. I just can't believe I'm on the phone with Sting and begin to giggle softly, but uncontrollably. And, I'm sure, annoyingly as well.)

His Stingness: Ma'am?

(His voice rolls like English tea over smooth, round rocks as he talks to me!)

Worshipper: Your voice is entering my brain, etching the words, your words, onto my memory.

(Bata-bing-it's-Sting!)

His Stingness: That's kind of you, but ...

Worshipper: Boy, you know, if I screw this up I'll never forgive myself.

His Stingness: Really?

(He would say this with the utmost kindness. Which would, of course, tug at my heart and all those memories that had me wondering what my idol was really like.)

Worshipper: Oh sure. If I ask the wrong thing or come off stupid, 30 years from now I'll be grocery shopping and involuntarily slap myself on the forehead and think "I can't believe I asked that of Sting!" You know.

His Stingness: Sure.

(I can hear an edge in his voice, but I can't stop. It's a journalist's and a fan's worse nightmare. The words have taken their own path and I must follow blindly and pray we trip over something worthwhile and not a long, awkward pause.)

Worshipper: I'll say "I interviewed Sting!" and people will say, "What'd you ask Sting?" And there will be this pained expression on their face when I tell them the ridiculous thing I asked Sting. What's the most ridiculous thing you've ever been asked?

His Stingness: That, actually.

Worshipper: No, really.

His Stingness: I'm a bit tired of the inquiries into my sex life, the whole tantric sex bit.

Worshipper: Wow.

(And all I can think is, I'm so glad he brought this up because I couldn't, not without a gasp or a giggle, or worse, a giggling gasp followed by a longing sigh. ... S-I-G-H ...)

His Stingness: Yeah, I probably shouldn't have been so suggestive when I mentioned it years ago.

Worshipper: Just. ... wow. Does your wife (Trudie Styles) know how lucky she is? Does she?

His Stingness: I believe so. I'm a very lucky man.

(We've hit it: the long awkward pause as I roll questions over in my mind, tossing off all the ridiculous ones, and begin to panic. He's just so Sting-a-licious.)

His Stingness: Uh, is there anything in particular you wanted to ask me? Something about my music, perhaps, or my acting career? I've been rather lucky in that I have been able to work with a lot of great people in the industry.

Worshipper: Really?

His Stingness: Yes.

Worshipper: Well, like Bryan Adams and Rod Stewart on "All for One," that song for "The Three Musketeers," starring Keifer Sutherland and some other guys?

His Stingness: Sure.

(Stupid! I am so unworthy and becoming more so. I'm sure this man is wishing he could get the last 10 minutes of his life back. Ten minutes! That means I've only got 10 minutes left, tops! No interview with a big rock star lasts longer than that.)

Worshipper: Uuuhhhhh ...

His Stingness: Are you stalling?

Worshipper: Uh, you know, that song, "Roxanne"?

His Stingness: Yes.

Worshipper: That was cool.

(Oh, Sting-o'-my-dreams!)

His Stingness: Uh, yes.

(I can't help it. I have to. It's there and it wants to come out.)

Worshipper, breaking into song: "Roxanne, you don't have to put on the red light."

His Stingness: Yes, (sigh), I know the words.

Worshipper, still singing: "Roxanne, you don't have to sell your body to Dewight ... "

His Stingness: It's "the night."