“But curiously I also have to note there’s only a scattering of women of any age – this crowd is a kind-of in-the-know boys’ club from a particular era. Turning back to the stage I get a hint perhaps why…”
“But curiously I also have to note there’s only a scattering of women of any age – this crowd is a kind-of in-the-know boys’ club from a particular era. Turning back to the stage I get a hint perhaps why…”
Sparks – Paradiso, Amsterdam 21/6/06
Ever had the feeling you’re at a celebration party for an honored guest, but that somehow you’ve missed exactly what, in fact, the celebration is all about? The other night I stumbled upon such an event in Paradiso’s main hall. At this party the majority of guests were clearly enthusiastic, long-standing fans, determined to pay tribute to Californian duo and the night’s honorees Sparks, who have been famously or infamously (depending on your party-guest status) making music for over three decades.
Lead guy Russell Mael has the energy and the vocals, while slightly older brother Ron Mael is the cool, thin man behind the keyboards and the compositional pen. I’m impressed already. My brother and I can barely maintain a conversation, let alone over 30 years of successful collaboration. The show’s format, I find out, has been standard for some years. For the first half the brothers perform their most recent album in entirety, then take a break and return with numbers variously plucked from their 19, yes count them, 19 other albums.
Thus their 20th album, Hello Young Lovers makes up the first half of the show – and show it is. The stage is cut horizontally by screens. On the left and right, black scrims artfully reveal or hide their four back-up vocalist-musicians, while a center screen displays projections, song lyrics and animations. Some of these are really fun in a lo-fi interactive kinda way. As Russell bounces around the stage singing, Ron either plays the synth, boxes with an animated version of himself, or even at one point plays a Monty Pythonesque video-projected pipe organ – whimsy and wit are certainly the order of the day. With his slicked back hair, round specs and trade-mark moustache Ron invites comparisons to John Waters and David Byrne, but then looking at the history it gets muddy who owes exactly what to whom. Whatever the lineage, the combination of buttoned-up Ron and bouncy Russell makes for an intriguing double-act. And that’s just in front of the screens.Occasionally spot-lit behind their scrims, the back-up musicians layer up the lush melodies with guitars, drums and handsomely arranged vocals. One of my favourites has these four on vocals, Ron on organ, and Russell singing in front of a projection of four cat faces atop human bodies singing at old-school microphones. Quirky? Yes, but also musically accomplished.
So that’s all fine and I’m feeling less bewildered. I understand more why this party is going on, so take a moment to take in my fellow guests. Hhmm, overwhelmingly white guys late thirties to quite a lot older, who I have the feeling have been Sparks fans for many years and are here to show their dedicated appreciation, not by mosh pit tearing the place to pieces, but simply by grooving along with their beers in hand, perhaps glad to be taking a night off from their lives as architects? Art directors? These are definitely not kids from the ‘burbs. But curiously I also have to note there’s only a scattering of women of any age – this crowd is a kind-of in-the-know boys’ club from a particular era. Turning back to the stage I get a hint perhaps why…One of Sparks‘ new numbers titled Perfume is basically a rant on brands and consumerism. I may not have the names exactly right, but something like, “Lisa wears Tresor, Joan wears Gaultier, Penny wears Saint Laurent…but you don’t wear perfume. That’s why I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” I must admit I had to stifle a giggle at the site of all these guys in the audience cheering along with such decidedly un-Sex in the City sentiments, while apparently not noticing, or not minding the fact that many Lisas, Joans and Pennies had cast their votes by staying home. Other track choruses such as, “Can I please invade your country?”, “There’s no such thing as aliens,” and “Chicks dig metaphors,” firmly place Sparks in that genre of anti-pop that over the years has earned them critiques like, “Most underrated band ever!”, “Gilbert and Sullivan on qualudes,” and “Intelligent dance music.”
And I found myself sorta torn. The first set with the visuals and show was interesting – artsy interesting. After the break the screens came down and they presented as a more regular rock band with hits from their repertoire that I’m afraid had me consistently failing to go, “Oh right! That song!” Nope. And no, for inquiring minds, I have not been living under a rock all these years. However, I truly appreciate the presence of musicians like these. They keep the bland pop guys on their toes by being that bit edgy and occasionally political, by maintaining their standards and refusing to sell out – but unfortunately the knife cuts both ways – because by doing all that they also eschew many of the qualities that make bad things like pop so fabulous – things like stupidity, mindlessness, nipples, midriffs, stuffed leather pants and political incorrectness.
But don’t get me wrong any irate party guests – I had a fun old time, enjoyed the show and finally understood what the celebration was about – it just doesn’t mean however, that we have to all like the same kinds of parties!Words: Matthew Curleius.
Photos: Matthew Curleius.