As a musician, I can watch them and see that the band is kind of a mess—they're winging it, forgetting lyrics and chords, yelling out changes to each other onstage. It's brilliant. And if you look closely, you can watch repeatedly (especially here) as Sting mellows things down, and then Andy Summers and particularly Stewart Copeland drag him back into rocking the fuck out.
That's why they're a great band. Sting can write a hell of a song, but it takes the right drummer and guitar player to say, "Hey, Sting, quit with the car commercial music and TURN IT UP."
Copeland is always full-throttle, and always has been, but I'd forgotten what a monster guitarist Summers is. He plays the weirdest jazz-derived phrases and two-note bits and makes them sound like huge windmilling power chords. Plus he's 65 years old. Scary.
I look forward to seeing them, finally.