“It Was His Fault”: Stewart Copeland Opens Up About Sting and the Bitter End of The Police

They sold over 75 million records. They played to packed stadiums. For a brief time in the 1980s, The Police were one of the biggest bands on the planet. But while fans saw only the chemistry on stage, behind the scenes, something very different was unfolding — a battle for control that would quietly fracture one of rock’s most iconic partnerships.

Now, decades later, drummer and founding member Stewart Copeland is speaking out. And he isn’t holding back.

The Band That Became a Battlefield

According to Copeland, the seeds of The Police’s breakup were sown long before their final tour. What began as a collaborative trio — with Copeland, Sting, and Andy Summers each bringing their own energy to the music — slowly transformed into what Copeland now calls “The Sting Operation.”

Sting, who began as the band’s bassist and vocalist, increasingly took creative control. He wrote more songs. He called more shots. And over time, Copeland says, the band stopped feeling like a band at all.

What once felt democratic became a hierarchy. As Sting’s influence grew, so did his share of the royalties. The others, Copeland says, began to feel like session musicians on their own records.

The Final Recording Sessions: A Breaking Point

The tension reached a boiling point during the making of their final studio album, Synchronicity. Copeland describes the sessions as chaotic and emotionally draining — what he calls “creative tyranny.”

Wearing Two Hats: Stewart Copeland on Playing and Composing - New Music USA

“We were at each other’s throats,” he recalls. “We’d roll tape, then literally roll on the floor in fist fights.”

One specific moment has stayed with him. Sting allegedly rejected one of Copeland’s drum tracks, calling it off and insisting it be redone. It wasn’t a creative discussion — it felt like dismissal. The incident, Copeland says, became symbolic of everything that was going wrong.

Eventually, the band stopped recording in the same room altogether. They communicated only through the producer. What had once been a vibrant exchange of ideas was reduced to silence — and separation.

“He Was My Ego Maniac”

Copeland doesn’t shy away from acknowledging Sting’s talent. In fact, he says it was clear early on that Sting had something special. “He was the golden goose,” Copeland says. “But he was my golden goose.”

That sense of discovery made the unraveling feel even more personal. Copeland suggests that Sting’s increasing control over the band wasn’t just about music — it was about power. Creative disagreements turned into unilateral decisions. Sting began controlling the band’s public image, business dealings, and musical direction.

“It all became about the song,” Copeland explains. “And Sting wrote the songs. So it became a Sting operation.”

The Final Straw

In the end, there was no big blow-up, no dramatic split. Copeland says Sting simply stopped showing up.

“He just didn’t come to work anymore,” he says. “That was it.”

For Copeland, it wasn’t just a professional loss — it felt like a personal betrayal. He believed that, despite their differences, the band could have found a way forward. But, in his view, Sting never intended to compromise.

That belief was only strengthened when Sting immediately launched a solo career after the band dissolved — a move Copeland says felt like a deliberate message: I don’t need The Police.

A Legacy Rewritten?

Even now, decades after their split, Copeland’s frustration remains. He believes Sting has tried to rewrite the band’s history — minimizing the contributions of Copeland and Summers in interviews and documentaries. While The Police’s catalog remains beloved, the story behind it has become one of quiet resentment.

Symphony Rocks: Legendary drummer Stewart Copeland brings 'Tyrant's Crush'  to San Antonio

Copeland, who’s gone on to have a respected career in composing and other projects, never found the same level of mainstream success again. And the emotional weight of how things ended with The Police has stayed with him.

“It didn’t have to end like that,” he says. “But ego got in the way.”

Collaboration vs. Control

One of the more poignant insights Copeland shares is about the tension between collaboration and control. In a band, especially one as high-profile as The Police, personalities matter as much as talent.

Sting, with his vision and drive, wanted full control. Copeland, with his rhythmic foundation and creative energy, wanted balance. As those two visions clashed, the music suffered — and eventually, the band did too.

“The Police was a very constricting environment for him,” Copeland says of Sting. “He had to have two other knuckleheads in the room telling him his new song was crap.”

That, Copeland believes, was the root of the problem: Sting didn’t want to share the process anymore. And without that collaboration, The Police ceased to exist — at least in the form fans had come to love.

A Partnership That Never Healed

Copeland’s recent comments make it clear that whatever wounds were created during the final years of The Police, they never fully healed. His frustration isn’t just about the music — it’s about how the band ended, how its history has been told, and how much potential was lost.

The tragedy, in his eyes, isn’t that The Police broke up. It’s why they broke up — not because they ran out of ideas, but because they ran out of trust.

Could they have gone on to make more great music? Copeland believes they could have — if there had been a willingness to compromise.

Instead, The Police became another example of how ego, power, and control can quietly tear apart even the most successful creative teams.

Looking Back, and Moving On

Stewart Copeland continues to speak about The Police not because he’s stuck in the past, but because he believes their story — the real story — deserves to be heard.

And maybe, for fans, hearing what really happened from someone who lived it offers closure, or at the very least, clarity.

Because The Police didn’t end with a final encore — they faded away in silence. And for Stewart Copeland, that silence still speaks volumes.