Sparks Spectacular: Angst In My Pants (1982)

By a-anne

Angst In My Pants is my favorite album ever made, so this review will be entirely biased and partial. To hear it live was like a thousand blessings, an invitation to the greatest party—perhaps not the biggest, but the most unstoppably fun. Someone in the audience was wearing a flashing Little Mermaid bracelet. Someone else wore a gold lamé jumpsuit. Another was in possession of a full packet of Dramamine. I love Sparks.

Russell wore the green sequin jacket, as seen on Saturday Night Live in 1982. I think I may have wet myself in a dazzling rush of happiness. The outstanding sadness that Ron didn’t strip or wear the wedding dress was immediately excused and Ron forgiven, for he wrote all these songs and I’d forgive him more or less anything.

For reasons unknown, they played a buzzier, synthier version of the title track, more in keeping with the version played around the Balls era. Having strived to replicate the original sound on every other album, this decision meant the concert started with a little sigh of confusion and disappointment alongside the frenetic cheering that greeted the opener. And then there was the sound: from where I stood at the barrier, everything was a muffled catastrophe. I idly imagined punching the soundman to the beat of “I Predict:” “And somebody’s gonna die/But I can’t reveal who!” indeed. “Sherlock Holmes” became a barrage of percussion and not much else, with synth, bass, guitar, and even Russell’s vocal inaudible above the pounding drums.

While the concert was dogged with sound problems, in retrospect this was almost irrelevant. The Sparks Spectacular series was half-live-performance and half-concept. Perpetual awe that were actually doing it automatically compensated for all technical hitches, even if it meant losing perfection a little here and there and wanting to kill people at the time. The real joy was hearing the songs live (they never toured the early eighties albums in the UK) and dancing like a fool—and who needs perfect sound for that? Answer: everyone, but with all these albums indelibly etched in the brain, lost melodies and deafening bass lines were automatically corrected in the mix internally.

Meanwhile and regardless, the band played on like veritable troopers—I believe it’s the whole of the backing band’s favorite album—and as long as Russell was wearing that jacket, they could’ve come on, taken a bow, and left, and I would’ve tripped into seventh heaven. “Sextown USA” was a storm, all outrageous vocals and ohhhh yahhhhhs. The real gem-like trio of “Nicotina,” “Mickey Mouse,” and “Moustache” I have no recollection of at all. That’s the amnesia of true bliss for you.

Russell referred to this album as their record of “L.A.-themed songs” and the delightfully vacant lyrics made it all the more of a joy to sing along with. Dog! Cat! Bird! Pig! Lamb! Horse! Cow! Fox! Wolf! Snake! Ox! Fish! A Goldfish! Mouse! I love Sparks. And somehow this remains one of the most poignant records they’ve ever made. “Instant Weight Loss,” “Tarzan and Jane,” and “The Decline and Fall of Me” respectively manage to be vacuously touching tributes to eating disorders, kids gone wild, and old age, while simultaneously remaining gloriously pop. Or something. “The Decline. . . ” in particular made a surprisingly excellent live transition, possibly because Russell was radiating absolute happiness and superb falsetto. Lyrically it’s a mountain amongst mountains: “Now I’ve got a hobby/I collect frozen pizzas/check out my pizzas.”

“Eaten By The Monster of Love” was a riotous sing along: huge, stupid, and perfect. My face hurt from a non-stop grin. We knew what the encore would be. It couldn’t have been anything else, but I still screamed like a fool when they announced it: “Minnie Mouse,” the poppiest pop song ever written. A whole evening of saccharin glee, topped with a cherry of a love song to Minnie Mouse. Life doesn’t get much better.

By Albert Resonox

The evening started with the usual revelries in The Eddie (EDVI as it is signposted), but I thought I’d leave the party behind just to check out The Standards who were supporting Sparks for “The Angst Show.” It’s funny how we kept abbreviating these shows. It was because we were so comfy with them, I suppose.

The Standards weren’t, I have to admit, everyone’s cup of tea, but by George, milk and two sugars for me! I thought they were cracking: a performance combining high camp and rock (though not always in the same song). They thanked us for the enthusiastic reception and said they couldn’t wait to get into the audience to watch Sparks, which elicited another massive cheer.

Whilst the stage was cleared, little knots of strangers compared notes on the previous shows and people they had met during this Sparks marathon. Cheers, screams, and shrieks were heard as the band took the stage. As usual, Ron’s entrance (though it was not as some wags predicted, in a wedding dress) was greeted by thunderous applause and chants of “Ronronron Ronronron” which he acknowledged by an almost shy wave. The lights dimmed for Russell’s entrance (in a lime-green sparkly jacket) and this was greeted by another bout of incredible cheering which was reciprocated by Russell’s self-effacing wave.

Then that genius of the skins, Steven Nistor, counted the band in on his drumsticks and we were off to “Angst In My Pants.” I love this track and tonight’s rendition was awesome and absolutely flawless, even the little “southern drawl” bits on the end. Of course the crowd sang along. How do some of the guys in the audience get to the high notes?

“I Predict” was a belter; it really rocked. I loved Russell’s little can-can dance at the appropriate line and Ron’s look of mock chagrin at this was a treat to behold, but it didn’t cause him or the other musicians in the band to waver from the performance (though I noticed they all smiled a bit; obviously a private joke there). And when this song did eventually “fade-out”? Oh my, the applause was deafening.

“Sextown USA” was its usual roller coaster ride, though I didn’t notice who was making the “crispy” noise. I assumed Ron, but thought it might’ve been Steven Nistor (although how he would have time for anything other than the drums is beyond me; I’m truly converted to his fan-club). Russell announced the next track as “Your Very Own Sherlock Holmes” before delivering a most poignant and heartfelt rendition in which the angst of the narrator really shone through.

Russell spoke about the band’s “L.A. phase” before launching into “Nicotina.” Only Sparks could produce a rock ballad of this caliber about a cigarette’s aspirations and ultimate death. It was really obvious the band were enjoying this album because they were so tight. I’ll bet the rehearsals for this one were a real fun time. Then it was “Mickey Mouse.” Russell told us about how Disney were initially sniffy about this song but soon grew to like it. Soon we were all singing along too, even raising our hands and clapping.

I often take a little glance around the audience at gigs just to gauge the reactions of my fellow fans. By this point everyone was smiling which I took as a good sign! And as for Sparks, I have noticed that here are times when Ron’s stare into middle distance was almost beatific, glowing with something akin to the “hero light” in the tales told by my Celtic ancestors.

“M-M-M-Moustache” was next, another real belter of a song about the most unlikely of subjects. Only Sparks could do it—or would dare to—and do it as brilliantly as this. And the crowd knew it and loved the band for it. The other “L.A.” songs were soon rattled off: “Instant Weight Loss,” “Tarzan And Jane,” each getting the tremendous cheering and applause they truly deserved.

“The Decline And Fall Of Me” was next. . . Oh excellent, one of my favorites on this album and Russell’s, too, it seemed. He even reminded everyone about the “encore” voting and recommended this as a contender, a very worthy contender I might add!!

The final album track (where did the time go?) was “Eaten By The Monster Of Love.” Oh man, it was a dream to hear this live and loud with the usual astounding applause at the end. One girl, who was uncomfortably close to my ear, was screaming with such piercing intensity that colonies of bats in the Outer Hebrides would’ve swarmed into a frenzy, but she was happy. . . bless!

The band was duly introduced and cheered in turn. Ron was introduced as the “one who writes songs about Mickey Mouse and Moustaches.” He merely took the mic and said, “Write about what you know!” and shrugged. The band trooped offstage to allow us to chant for the encore (even though by now we knew it was coming).

And what an encore! “Minnie Mouse” was the perfect accompaniment to this show in my opinion. The song’s raison d’etre was explained nd you’d think we were all confirmed Mouseketeers the way we sang along. Again, it ended much too soon and off we went to our various places to sit and discuss the shows. One thing which was striking: everyone noted that each song seems to be unstoppable. . . until the next one is played and so on. It must be a measure of how incredible these guys are!