Sting and Shaggy walk into a studio... and that's not a punchline. Their album 44/876 might have started as a “what are they doing together?” moment, but what came out of it was something joyous, surprising, and, as both men insist, inevitable.
“It was late one night, after a lot of gin,” Sting says of “Skank Up,” a bonus track from the same sessions. “The first thing I said was, ‘Oh Lord, what am I doing here at two in the morning making a record?’”
“Magic,” Shaggy cuts in. “It’s been magic, man.”
That sense of friendship — and total disbelief — fuels the collaboration. “If the music doesn’t continue,” Shaggy says, “the friendship certainly does.”
The record, named after their respective country codes (44 for the U.K., 876 for Jamaica), isn’t just a curious mashup of Police-style melodies and dancehall grooves. It’s a record steeped in optimism and sly politics — something both artists say felt necessary. “Reggae’s always been revolutionary music,” Shaggy says. “Not just sunshine and love. You look at Peter Tosh, Bob Marley — those songs were about real struggle. But my grandmother used to say, ‘It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.’ So we bring the message, but we bring it with a smile.”
Sting agrees. “It’s a combination of happy accident and healthy instinct,” he says. “A little light in dark times never hurts.”
Part of the joy comes from the unusual dynamic. Two frontmen, both used to commanding the spotlight, suddenly sharing it. “He takes over when I’m sleeping,” Sting jokes. “And vice versa.”
“It’s good to let someone else drive,” Shaggy says. “You can only do that when you really trust the person. I don’t know who that person is,” he adds, smirking at Sting, “but I appreciate it.”
The chemistry shows onstage, where their tour is built around shared songs — Sting singing “It Wasn’t Me,” Shaggy joining in on “Every Breath You Take.” “It’s not like there’s a Sting segment or a Shaggy segment,” Shaggy says. “We’re both out there the whole time. We trade songs, we mess with them, and it works better than it should.”
“On paper, it shouldn’t,” Sting admits. “But live, it’s just… fun. It’s theater. It’s friendship. It’s reggae.”
For Sting, the collaboration wasn’t a stretch. “I’ve always loved reggae,” he says. “I come from a place of respect for it. It’s the common ground we share. I just dabble, but Shaggy’s the real deal.”
Shaggy grins. “The part that confuses people isn’t the reggae,” he says. “It’s, ‘What the hell is Sting doing with Shaggy?’ They think I’m the disruptive one.”
He recounts a fan encounter that perfectly sums up the chaos. “This drunk lady told me she was at the show with ‘the guy from The Police and the dirty dancing Jamaican guy.’ I said, ‘That’s us.’”
Their laughter is constant — the kind that suggests two people who discovered they were supposed to meet all along. But beneath the jokes, they’ve created something with a quiet purpose. “Music’s a common language,” Sting says. “The idea of appropriation doesn’t really belong here. We’re just speaking it together.”
Shaggy nods. “When I went diamond and started selling huge numbers, people said I wasn’t Jamaican enough. That’s when they start throwing words like appropriation around. But that stuff never comes from musicians. Musicians get it.”
The respect between them runs deep enough that they’ve started reworking each other’s catalogs. Shaggy’s added verses to “Every Breath You Take,” and the two trade roles in songs like “Crooked Tree,” where Sting plays the prisoner and Shaggy the judge. “We like twisting expectations,” Sting says. “That’s kind of the point.”
There’s talk of more to come, though neither wants to jinx it. “We’ll see,” Sting says. “We do, believe it or not, have separate careers.”
For now, they’re happy being the world’s most unexpected duo — two icons from opposite ends of the spectrum finding harmony in gin, reggae, and good timing. “We’re just taking it day by day,” Shaggy says. “Ear by ear.”
Listen to the interview above and then check out the video below!
