Sparks Spectacular: Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins
Posted in Concert Reviews, Music, Reviews, Sparks Spectacular |By Here Kitty
My boyfriend is the longtime Sparks fan, not me. Like most listeners too young to have been there at the time, my Sparks knowledge stretched only as far my Dad’s “Best of the 70s” CD would allow. I admit Lil’ Beethoven was an aural epiphany upon my first listen in 2003, like swimming through shifting layers of sound, sublime orchestral movements unfurling around repetitive voice samples. I saw them on the 2006 Hello Young Lovers tour and loved their humor, their style, and showmanship. I laughed at the cynicism and truth in their lyrics; I appreciated their obvious originality and eccentricity; and I thought Ron was cool and Russell cute, seemingly ticking all the right boxes for fangirl membership. . . and yet. . . somehow I still hadn’t made that transition from casual listener and occasional gig-goer to full-time obsessive. Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins is the gig that changed that.
I was 17 in 1994 when Gratuitous Sax was released, and although I didn’t listen to the album until the journey down to the gig, I felt a rather disjointed sense of nostalgia as the lights started to throb in time to the thunderous opening beat of “When do I get to sing “My Way”—I know I hadn’t heard the song before this year and while I can’t remember listening to music quite like it in 1994, I know if I had heard it back then it’s exactly the kind of thing I would have loved. So there I was in 2008, listening to new music which reminded me of the past and discovering just how much my tastes haven’t changed.
Photo © Daniel Gray @Dead By Sunrise
There was so much to like, but my favorite of the night was the infectious and epic opener “My Way.” “Now that I Own the BBC” was both bright and bold, and I thought “Charlie Parker” translated particularly well too, like a lyrical roller coaster, part tongue-twister, part scattergun. “Hear No Evil” was wistful and beautiful and creepy. “I Thought I told you to Wait in the Car” was a surprisingly intense and enjoyable performance and I was impressed again by “The Ghost of Liberace,” another track I had thought of as one of the weaker songs on the album, but one which was utterly charming on execution. Though it was when Ron took the microphone to darkly intone “Tsui Hark” that caused the biggest fan uproar of the night, evoking more cheers and catcalls when he missed out the Chinese bits.
The brothers contrast yet compliment each other. Russell is impishly-little, camp and charismatic with the crowd. He is so frenetic in his performance that of the 79 of photos I took that night, 76 show him to be an artily-blurred figure ghosting movement trails, like a 70s howlaround. Only three managed to show such detail of the Rhys-from-Hollyoaks indie cut and black-and-Brighton-rock-pink jacket. Silent and still (and therefore much more photograph-friendly), Ron is pipe-cleaner thin and business-man smart, a look oddly offset by a Boston Blackie tache and trendy trainers, doing the whole moody-glower-behind-the-keyboard act, a band dynamic I thought the Pet Shop Boys had originated rather than ripped-off. Sparks are funny and charming and as they say on Exotic Creatures of the Deep, oh-so-likeable.
All this has inspired an interest in Sparks’ back catalogue and I’m discovering more and more to like with each new song on each album. But it’s a bittersweet experience, because I can’t help but think how much better it would have been to hear so many of these songs for the first time crammed into a mass of like-minded fans, clamoring to see over taller shoulders and uplifted mobiles, while attempting and failing to get another photo of Russell not moving—rather than sitting at my computer on my own. Oh damn my timing.
Click to read. . .
Angie Holmes’ review
DP Nixon’s review at Playlouder