Why there always has to be subterfusion

There is a quote attributed to John Lennon regarding an appearance by Sparks on British TV in 1974. "It's Hitler on the telly" was his supposed response the Ron Mael's toothbrush moustache. I remember watching the band on "In Concert" in that same year. My dad - a blue collar guy if there ever was one - walked into the living room and amazed my brother and me by watching all of their performance. He still mentions it occasionally.

I have no doubt that the Mael brothers were using every trick in the book to get noticed. After all this was their shot at the big time. They had two big hit singles in the UK earlier in the year and their offbeat stage personas had worked well amongst the oddities of UK pop music at that time. Glam glitter and gold lame were all the rage. Ron sat behind the electronic keyboard like Charlie Chaplin on tranquilizers while pouty-lipped brother Russell pranced around the stage with his poodle dog haircut bouncing in rhythm to the beat. Needless to say the effect did not translate to sales or radio play in the USA.

For me their first two Island albums are little treasures of pop depravity. The excellent lead guitarist and talented bassist from Kimono My House were jettisoned when their suggestions for a musical direction threatened the Mael's stranglehold on the band. Waiting in the wings was Trevor White, perhaps my favorite glam-era guitarists ever. His work throughout Propaganda is full of pyrotechnical somersaults, and the producer put that sound front-and-center in a way that was never allowed again on a Sparks recording.

Reinforcements consists of a verse melody that could have been composed by Kurt Weill and a rock chorus that is driven by an insistent guitar chord. The double entendre of the lyrics are a hoot, with comparisons of the sexual appetite of the singer's girlfriend Denise to the lexicon of armies going to war. At 2:04 the chorus repeats, each time building with more energy until the guitar nearly explodes, then at 2:36 the bottom drops out. What comes next is one of those unexpectedly divine moments that pop music can sometimes deliver. The verse harmony recurs, but instead of lyrics it is accompanied by a softly sung vocalise, a lovely guitar counterpoint, and a background chorus. Then on the second time through it is joined by the guitar and even more counter vocal lines. And then it repeats just enough times to linger in my head for hours afterwards. Imagine God Only Knows mutated into a twisted glam cacophony.

Auf wiedersehen to the beat

Few bands engender such hostility as Sparks. In the first edition of The Rolling Stone Record Guide Billy Altman of Creem Magazine wrote "The(ir) objective was to hit it big in a foreign land and then return home to conquer the masses who ignored them before they went to England to get rich and famous". He also "docked" them "one star per album for being somewhat responsible for Queen." Of course the first statement is not true. Little did he know when he wrote that put-down in 1979 that Sparks would still be around in 2009 with a dedicated worldwide fanbase. And the second statement is way off the mark, as Queen was already well on their own upward path in 1974 when Sparks hit the big time in the UK.

From their first demo recording of oddball California Folk/Psych (the sadly never-released Woofer in Tweeter's Clothing) in 1968, to their most recent 2008 release Exotic Creatures of the Deep the Mael brothers have followed their own path. They have conquered, then jettisoned more musical styles (and bandmates) than even David Bowie. Frankly I never got into their Euro-electro-dance pop albums of the 80s and 90s, but what came before and after are essential pieces in my LP/CD collection.

The central nugget that ties their 21 albums together is Ron Mael's songwriting. He can pop out a killer hook in a heartbeat. And the lyrics - oh my - how does one begin to decipher the byzantine layers of psychological maneuvering that takes place in most of their songs? At the same time there is a junior high school sex-obsessed boy peeking out from under the sheet music.

Leaving my syntax back at school
I was thrown for a loss over gender and simple rules
You mentioned Kant and I was shocked ... so shocked
You know, where I come from, none of the girls have such foul tongues

That little nugget comes from Hasta Manana Monsieur on 1973's breakout LP Kimono My House. Here is a live performance from Don Kirchner's Rock Concert in 1974 at the Beacon Theatre NYC. I can only imagine the shocked look on the faces of the people in the crowd... what the heck IS this? Give a listen to the crackerjack band - Dinky Diamond was a powerhouse drummer, and guitarist Trevor White laid down a glam sound that kicks these songs into fifth gear.

Immediately following HMM is Thank God It's Not Christmas, which may be my favorite Sparks song ever. The opening guitar melody is genius. The music may be upbeat but the lyrics tell the tale of a man who spends 364 days of the year seeking thrills in the streets of the city

There I'll spend the night
Meeting fancy thins
At bistros and old haunts
Trying very hard to sin

That 365th day is the one he wishes to avoid at all costs - spending time with only his mate.

Thank God it's not Christmas
When there is only you
And nothing else to do
Thank God it's not Christmas
Where there's just you to do
The rest is closed to public view