When you work in record stores for any length of time, you start hearing about acclaimed artists heretofore unexplored with large and daunting catalogs, artists that you know you should like, with album titles you know by heart even if you've never heard a single hook from the albums in question. You know that you could like these artists, maybe even grow to love them, but you never allow a spare moment to excavate the layers of vinyl and tape and zeroes and ones to find the sonic gold, the joy and empathy that some artists provide in rich and robust dollops with seemingly effortless verve and glee.
For me, there are too many names -- Miles Davis, Tom Waits, Slayer, The Who -- whose catalogs have so far remained in the cold ground of someone else's life. And until the winter of 2009, the band Sparks (featuring brothers Ron and Russell Mael) were one of those names. I visited a friend in Los Angeles in February 2009 at the exact same time that Sparks were playing one of their rare (at the time) American shows, and even though we didn't know any songs by Sparks, we still almost pulled the trigger and went to the gig. After I had returned back to the bitter embrace of a Michigan winter, I decided to dive in with a two-disc Rhino collection (although "greatest hits" albums are for housewives and little girls, to quote Bruce McCulloch) and then with a majority of their CD's, after which point I was forever hooked.
It's hard to describe the appeal of Sparks, even though they've had some measure of success in nearly every area of the world at some point in their four-decade-plus career. They were glam, they were Dixieland and Broadway, they were disco and new wave, they were symphonic and sardonic, they were melodically florid, they found trancelike joy in repetitious compositions, they were and they are and hopefully always will be. They've written a handful of pop classics in each decade since the '70s, and they just released a new album-length collaboration with Franz Ferdinand that's as strong as anything they've ever done. In short, they are Sparks, and I assumed that I had missed the window to see them live.
And then I saw them live three times in less than two years.
4 November 2013, The Crofoot, Pontiac, MI
Your Call's Very Important To Us, Please Hold / How Do I Get To Carnegie Hall? / B.C. / Here In Heaven / Academy Award Performance / Those Mysteries / Good Morning / Falling In Love With Myself Again / Big Boy / What Would Katherine Hepburn Say / I Am Ingmar Bergman / The Studio Commissary / Limo Driver (Welcome To Hollywood) / Oh My God / Nicotina / Popularity / This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us / (When I Kiss You) I Hear Charlie Parker Playing / Suburban Homeboy / When Do I Get To Sing "My Way" / Tryouts For The Human Race / The Number One Song In Heaven / Revenge Of Two Hands One Mouth
This was the "Two Hands, One Mouth" tour featuring Ron and Russell by themselves, running through economical interpretations of songs from throughout their catalog. I had seen an abbreviated version of this set at the Coachella fest seven months before, and like that performance, the Crofoot show was typically idiosyncratic in that much of the power of full band and/or orchestra arrangements was absent, which placed the burden on the relatively unadorned melodies and vocals. As such, there were some moments where the space to stretch and breathe was a positive, while at other moments...well, I pined for some oomph. That said, it was intimate and fun, which was the idea. As of this writing, this was their last show in Michigan.
15 February 2015, The Theatre @ Ace Hotel, Los Angeles, CA
Set One ["Kimono My House"]
This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us / Amateur Hour / Here In Heaven / Thank God It's Not Christmas / Hasta Manana Monsieur / Talent Is An Asset / Complaints / In My Family / Equator
Set Two
The Rhythm Thief / Get In The Swing / Let The Monkey Drive / Looks, Looks, Looks / Pulling Rabbits Out Of A Hat / Excerpts From "The Seduction Of Ingmar Bergman" / Dick Around / When Do I Get To Sing "My Way" (feat. Alex Kapranos) / The Number One Song In Heaven / Change
This small tour -- two London dates and two L.A. dates -- featured a 38-piece orchestra backing a start-to-finish sprint through their breakthrough 1974 album Kimono My House (an album that made them unlikely teen idols in mid-'70s glam-glazed England) as well as choice cuts from their catalog. As expected, the orchestra supercharged the songs, adding subtle shadings or pomp and circumstance as needed, making it a not-to-be-missed show for Sparks fans like me. So I obviously couldn't miss it, even though it was the day after Valentine's Day and a Sunday and halfway across the country, which meant that I did a 5,000 mile round trip there and back in 31 hours with little or no sleep to make the gig. After all, why do I work if not for moments like this? Totally worth it, too.
3 October 2015, Electric Factory, Philadelphia, PA
Johnny Delusional / The Man Without A Tan / Police Encounters / Do You Want To (FF) / The Power Couple / Little Guy From The Suburbs / Save Me From Myself / Things I Won't Get / So Desu Ne / The Number One Song In Heaven (S) / Michael (FF) / This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us (S) / Dictator's Son / Take Me Out (FF) / Piss Off / When Do I Get To Sing "My Way" (S) / Call Girl / Collaborations Don't Work
If you are Sparks, in a career filled with curve and twists, why not whip up a collaborative full-length with Franz Ferdinand called FFS and go out on tour to support it? (And seeing the size of the crowd in Philadelphia, why didn't you bring this tour to Royal Oak so that I wouldn't have to make the trip? But that's another issue.) FFS has moments where the Sparks DNA shines brightly through each chord, then there are the bursts of Franz Ferdinand swagger and stomp, but the most interesting moments -- such as the highlight tracks "Police Encounters" and "Piss Off" -- you can hear the hybrid vigor of both bands take the songs to uncharted waters. They've said that this isn't a one-off, but no matter where Sparks goes in the future, FFS is more than a diversion -- it stands with the best work of either band, an utter delight that instantly makes you want more.
For obvious reasons, this show is still fresh in my mind, but given that my mind is addled by sleep deprivation and on-the-road eat-as-you-go caloric upset, all I can offer are shards of impressions:
- Going to Philadelphia while a hurricane makes landfall on the East Coast is not the best plan. And going to Philadelphia without any clear direction as to what to do (a.k.a. "winging it") is also not the best plan.
- Walking for miles at a brisk pace less than two months after a total hip replacement makes one feel like the Tin Man frozen and lost in the woods surrounding Oz.
- Missing the first six songs of the set because the show started at 9pm on a Saturday night -- even though previous shows listed FFS going on at 10:15 -- was a profound disappointment that cast the entire trip in dark and depressing tones.
- Killing time in the outer portion of an airport for over five hours is more difficult than you might think.
I'm not sure what form Sparks can take after these three concerts, but I can't wait to find out. I eagerly await the fourth side of Sparks, no matter how it materializes. Throat singing? Holograms? Acid and Ovaltine? Who knows?
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