Playlouder - Music is the Network

Where were we on our Sparks history listen? Oh yes, the 80s. Having had considerable success with their electro renaissance the Maels’ decided to drop their synth heavy sound, return to their home territory of LA and recruit a full time backing band. Why? More than likely there were two reasons: firstly, despite some big hits (including a no 1 in France) sales were not as strong as hoped for and second, that their electronic led sound was hard to reproduce live.

So they reinvented themselves this time as wacky, goofy college rock outfit. Based on their first effort, 82s Whomp That Sucker, it seemed a dubious move. Granted the album is certainly has some comic pop gems, but the harsh grating sound and ludicrous material were enough to annoy even the diehards, making the album a guilty pleasure at best. Angst In My Pants, however, hit the note perfectly. The production was smooth, the riffs were better, and the songs, many of them equally stupid, were more sly and ingenious; there were even a few dramatic and melancholy moments within. This was pop-trash of an extremely high pedigree.

Alas, despite becoming a cult college radio band, they remained off the radar in the UK and thus this night was nowhere near a sell out. The not so large Islington Academy was only 60% full, but this mattered nothing to the fans who had shown up. They were as excitable and up for it as any crowd so far. And after all, there’s nothing deep about this album, it has a song about Mickey Mouse for goodness sake, this one’s all about having a laugh, kicking back and enjoying yourself.

The set opens with the title track, a nifty number about nerve-related inability to perform. Thanks to their excellent backing band, this received a great rockier update, but there was a price to pay as Ron’s keyboards seemed unable to compete, often buried in the mix during some numbers. It was hard to tell whether there were sound problems or not, during the excellent The Rise and Fall of Me, there was certainly some kind of malfunction.

But if there were any problems no one on stage seemed phased by them. The band grinned on, spurred on by the enthusiastic reception. Numbers be damned, daft knock-abouts like Moustache (the only time I feel bad is when she can taste the food I’ve had) went down as well anything so far. Able to get closer to the front this time, I was able to see that even underneath his cold exterior, Ron was enjoying every moment, his mouth curling up at the ends as he suppressed each grin.

As unpretentious fun the album can’t be topped, causing Russell to comment that he’d particularly enjoyed this one. While the crowd was smaller, it was a much younger crowd than before, suggesting that this lost classic won’t be forgotten. After 11 nights, they were showing no signs of slowing down or losing their game.