Sparks Spectacular: Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins (1994)

Published on July 30th, 2008 in: Concert Reviews, Issues, Music, Reviews, Sparks Spectacular |

By Angie Holmes

Gratuitous Sax, Sparks in the 21st Century, and a Girl from Wolverhampton

The very first time I ever heard Sparks was on Radio 1 in 1974—shortly before my 12th birthday—and I was totally blown away by their sound. 34 years later I still adore them.

I first saw them at the Odeon Theatre in Birmingham on Thursday 6 November 1975; the ticket cost me £2 and I still have it! (I stuck it in one of two scrapbooks full of photographs and articles about Ron and Russell.) I have since seen them three more times and they just get better and better.

When I found out about the 21-gig Sparks Spectacular I just had to go to at least one of the concerts. The one that fit best with my schedule was Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins. This was perfect. My 15-year-old son Sam was “force-fed” them from an early age and fancied going to see them. He was two years old in the summer of 1995 when Gratuitous Sax was played over and over again on the car stereo on holiday in Cornwall. It was on so often that he knew lots of the words, often quoting “Gone with the Wind” by stating “Frankly Scarlett, I don’t give a damn” on a regular basis.

Anyway, we booked our tickets, also buying some for our good friends Chris and Jane (friends from High School). We also booked a hotel in Islington and some train tickets. On a wet Friday evening in June we pitched up at the Islington Carling Academy. I was so excited (much to the embarrassment of my son and amusement of my friends).

Ron and Russell were completely superb from the minute they came on the stage to the time they eventually left, after many minutes of tumultuous applause. The sound was excellent—Russell’s voice sounding exactly as it did in 1994. The guys in the band played well together and looked very smart in their specially-produced album cover T-shirts. It was Ron though, who stole the show. His presence is awesome, if a little scary, especially during “I Thought I Told You to Wait in the Car.” You feel as if he is actually scolding you as he wags his finger and stares into the audience. And as Tsui Hark was unavailable to do the vocals in the song bearing his name, Ron stepped in claiming that he was the only one who had a deep enough voice in the band—he even remembered most of the words! He truly looks no different to when I saw him all those years ago in Birmingham.

The large screen behind the band projecting “relevant” photographs was also a very nice touch as we were treated to stills of Charlie Parker, Vivien Leigh, and Clark Gable, not to mention some surfing shots for “Let’s Go Surfing” and a BBC logo for “Now That I Own the BBC.”

The venue was electric when they came on for their encore of “Marry Me” with the majority of the crowd singing along. It was so sad to see them go but wonderful to have been able to witness one of a truly historic series of concerts. No other band in the world has attempted such a feat and I doubt none ever will. That’s what makes Sparks the best band ever, never mind about the senseless violins.

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.

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 complement 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.

The following review was originally published on Playlouder and is being used here with the kind permission of the author and publication.

Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins 1994, yet another Sparks renaissance album. They’d been away for six years having been stuck in something of a creative rut at the close of the 80s. Few would’ve predicted that their comeback would not only fit seamlessly into the musical climate of the time but that it would produce their biggest hit single to date, leading to a full critical reappraisal and new appreciation for their work.

Read the rest at Playlouder.