All Sparks

I'm a firm believer that you have to be at a certain place in your life for specific things to really hit you, to capture your heart and your mind and your wallet, to connect and make sense on a meaningful level. Sometimes these things come at you too soon, and other times it's just a bit too late, but when there's a confluence, a happy accident of time and space...well, you'll be surprised how fast you'll be hooked. In fact, you can't imagine life without your new discovery. Of course, I'm not speaking about something substantive, like home ownership or heroin or relationships. Instead, I'm talking about the band called Sparks.

[Well, not just Sparks. Just last night, I watched David Cronenberg's film version of Naked Lunch, based on the seminal William S. Burroughs novel, for the first time since '95. And I have to say that this 'go-round, it actually made sense in a captivating and hallucinogenic fashion, in ways that were absent in my first experience. And let's not get into the first time I saw A Clockwork Orange, back when I was thirteen.]

For many years, Sparks -- essentially the work of brothers Ron and Russell Mael -- was one of those bands that I'd heard of but never heard. Their name periodically popped up in magazine articles that I read, and bands like Faith No More and Erasure would rhapsodize about their witty and skewed pop sense. But for some reason, I'd still failed to dig up any of their work, mostly because it's pretty hard to find, even in the used CD bins. What finally motivated me to check out their work was reading about their London tour last May where they played all 21 of their albums on 21 consecutive nights, an album (and appropriate b-sides) per day every day for three weeks straight. "That," I thought, "is an amazing achievement," and vowed to finally take the Sparks plunge.

But due to the scarcity, I didn't buy anything until a few months ago, after an article in the LA Weekly that detailed a Valentine's Day show at UCLA. And while they didn't do a 21-CD salute at their California gig, they did play their latest album from '08 (Exotic Creatures Of The Deep) and a classic record from '74 (Kimono My House) start to finish, as well as some other "hits." [And while I was actually in LA on Valentine's Day, I still was a Sparks virgin, so I didn't attend. And yes, in retrospect, I'm hating myself for missing it.] So I hunted up those two efforts as well as an out-of-print Rhino two-disc collection called Profile, and listened.

Holy shit.

Turns out I've been missing a band that fits me like no other band in recent memory. Over those past few months, I've spent hundreds of dollars tracking down their scattered discography from Amazon, eBay, and various record stores ('cause when you have 21 albums on many different labels, there's no easy way to dig up the tunes). And sure, I could just buy all their material at iTunes, but then I'd be missing the lyrics, and reading and re-reading the words is essential to the Sparks experience. Here's just a few wryly funny lyrical examples:

She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out
'Cause my intellect's paper thin
She won't go out with me, no, she won't go out
Since my intellect's not like him

So, lighten up, Morrissey

She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out
'Til my biting wit bites like his
She won't hang out with me, no, she won't hang out
'Til my quick retort's quick as his

So, lighten up, Morrissey
Lighten up, lighten up
Lighten up, lighten up

["Lighten Up, Morrissey" from Exotic Creatures Of The Deep, 2008]

Every sip is of the smallest quantity
That still denotes apparent thirst
Every question is a means
to draw long answers
Play the fool, it doesn't hurt
Splitting, splitting headache coming
Get up early in the morning
Where are all the funny phrases
That are always followed by goodbye

Can't you see the lady is lingering
(lingering)
This lady's lingering,
and you cannot believe the reason why

["The Lady Is Lingering" from Indiscreet, 1975]

So what does the band sound like? Well, it depends on which era you're listening to. Their early-to-mid-'70s records (like Kimono My House and Propaganda) are like a wittier and less metallic Queen; there are two disco-ish late-'70s albums (No. 1 In Heaven and Terminal Jive) with noted Italo-disco producer Giorgio Moroder; an early-to-mid-'80s run (In Outer Space, Angst In My Pants) with some New Wave sheen; two '90s efforts (Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins, Plagiarism) that recall Pet Shop Boys; and their three quasi-classical-pop releases for the new millennium (Lil' Beethoven, Hello Young Lovers, Exotic Creatures Of The Deep). Through all the musical twists and turns, two things are constant: Ron's melodic compositions and idiosyncratic wordplay, and Russell's soaring vocals.

Obviously, Sparks aren't for everyone. (Their closest thing to a U.S. radio hit was "Cool Places" from '83, a duet with Go-Go's member Jane Wiedlin that came close to the Top 40, but failed to chart. And they once submitted a video to their record label that synched up their song with hard-core pornography. And Ron spent most of the '70s with slicked-back hair and a Hitler moustache.) Aside from iTunes, their work is neither cheap nor easy to locate. But I can't believe that it's taken me over thirty years to finally hear what the fuss was all about; after all, it's not just any band that can play their entire catalog over three weeks of consecutive nights. When I look back on the summer of '09, Sparks will be the soundtrack, and my life will be all the better for it. So lighten up, Morrissey, and take a listen.