Sparks at The Carling Academy, Islington

Sparks at The Carling Academy, Islington

21 July, 2008
by: Tom Jeffreys

Sparks are probably literally like my favourite still-doing-stuff band. Why? Because the Smiths is dead, and Morrissey's not a band, stupid. And also because they're just brilliant. They manage somehow to be both instantly lovable and an acquired taste at the same time. Yes. So, naturally I was rather excited when I read that they were planning to perform all 21 of their albums in a row, right here in London town. But also a little nervous: would they still be up to it? Would anyone go? Being disorganised however, I rather forgot all about it until they were midway through their run. So I missed 'Kimono My House', which was a shame. But I took a punt and went to see one I'd never heard of – 1986's 'Music That You Can Dance To' – only because the title sounded good and I like the '80s.

It turned out to be an inspired decision. Russell Mael bounded on stage and unleashed the funked-up title track before they proceeded to whistle through the album in track order: 'Armies of the Night' was an arch Hammer-horror affair (that incidentally was used in little-known teen vampire flick Fright Night), 'The Scene' a stomping, four-to-the floor riot, and 'Modesty Plays' a camp silly synth thing, but brilliant too. And loud. They encored with 'Change', which is, I reckon, one of the greatest operatic pop songs ever. This was so exciting, clever, and uplifting that it was only a shame there weren't more people there to witness it.

As expected, Ron (that's Mr. Mael to you, pal) sat stiffly at his keyboard, peering intensely into the crowd like some aging Classics teacher making sure his class aren't cheating at their subjunctives test. I caught his eye at one stage and quickly looked away, part in awe, part in guilty terror. That is the power of the man. He did arise half way through the set though, taking the mike for a deadpan recital of 'Shopping Mall of Love', and swaying from side to side like some kind of high-waisted metronome.

Ron was far more active the following week when I returned to the Islington Academy to catch 2003's 'Lil Beethoven'. He was projected onto screens for an eerie rendition of album opener 'Rhythm Thief'. And his tie rotated, which was pretty cool. When he came on stage in person for 'Carnegie Hall', the man was sporting the same pair of giant arms that he wears in the album sleeve. Brilliant. Only Ron Mael could bust the Stretch Armstrong look with such aplomb. He also did some funny dancing and then totally changed my opinion of 'Ugly Guys With Beautiful Girls'. Previously this was my least favourite track on the album but it became hilarious when Ron played the part of the ugly guy parading around the stage with some sexpot rent-a-hottie, much to Russell's histrionic mock chagrin.

All the tracks were awesome. There was sharp satire, intelligent musings, hilarity, ridiculousness, and even the odd moment of genuine tenderness. Amazingly, all of this was often in the same song, the same verse even. Only two slight criticisms: the woman in front of me was fat and moody and wouldn't let me pass. And the encore was some strange song in German about a football commentator or something. After the rousing music-hall wigger piss-take of 'Suburban Homeboy', this was a slightly strange way to end. It's this kind of thing that has stopped Sparks becoming the biggest thing in the world. And it's exactly why I love 'em so. The Mael brothers are basically the Gilbert & George of pop, without the excrement. Or if Larry David could sing. Just completely brilliant.


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Tom Jeffreys