If there is a way back to reality from the systemic trauma of the COVID-19 pandemic that we all suffered through, it clearly will be a trail blazed by the most weird and wonderful characters that populate our artistic mediums. In a time where absolutely nothing makes any sense, those that parse madness and eccentricity with the skill of a nimble painter are the truss for our bridge back to sanity. Theirs is the soundtrack of our moment, untethered from the austerity of our misbegotten notions of control, we learn that exuberant silliness and skilled rule breaking are a potion of pure freedom and grounding. In a typically balmy summer night for Los Angeles, legendary free thinkers Sparks and They Might Be Giants played the Hollywood Bowl, bearing example of just how cathartic independent thinking can be.
Brooklyn, New York’s own They Might Be Giants opened on this evening, and the band seemed awestruck in the best way at the magnitude of the moment. Co-lead singer/guitarist John Flansburgh made jokes about the moment following the band’s canned introduction utilizing Carl Orff’s “O Fortuna” (perhaps a tongue-in-cheek nod to la forza del destino) quipping how the band wasn’t used to playing in the daylight, that they were more accustomed to dark venues and drunk attendees. Opening with “Damn Good Time” rushed off into peppy vibes and left turn jam-outs. The group then played what they claimed was usually the first song at their shows, “Synopsis for Latecomers,” jokingly aimed at fans that might not have been there before the show started. “Particle Man” followed not long later and got a huge pop from the crowd as one of the band’s massive early successes (and old heads warmly remember the song’s usage in Tiny Tunes in the early ‘90s). “Number Three” playfully dabbled with the verbiage of an old prospector anthem, pretending this was only the third song the narrator’s knew.
“Brontosaurus” was about, well, being a brontosaurus, from egg to joining the circus, all done with the band’s trademark mirthfulness in full display. “Spy” made crack use of the band’s three member horn section even featuring a long section at the end where Flansburgh and co-lead singer John Linnell directed the band members to start and stop through hand gestures, randomly driving the chaos forward. What would have ended the set proper was one of the band’s most famous singles, a hilarious cover from 1990 of The Four Lads’ infectious novelty track “Istanbul (Not Constantinople).” It’s short to be sure, but hard not to rise to your feet and dance even after only a few seconds of their rendition. Flansburgh realized at this moment that somehow the band’s estimation of the Hollywood Bowl’s famous set time restrictions were off and they still had twelve minutes remaining in their set so they vowed to take advantage of every square second remaining to a loud cheer from the crowd on hand. They took those vital minutes and squeezed in three more songs, “Doctor Worm,” “When Will You Die” and first album hit “Don’t Let’s Start.”
While They Might Be Giants may have played with minimal visual accompaniment, Sparks arrived bathed in beautiful dark black and blue lights, backed by a minimalistic video wall capable of display letters or simple animations. The band took the stage proudly performing “So May We Start” a nod to the opening of the show but also their (relatively) recent score to the Adam Driver-starring film Annette. The offbeat pop interplay just here on their opener was evocative of the creativity they’ve reveled in their whole career. For those unaware, the duo that are the primary members of the band, brothers Russell and Ron Mael, have literally been at this kind of offbeat pop ingenuity for over fifty years. For the uninitiated, they created and released no fewer than eight albums before 1980. A few off years here and there aside, they have scarcely ever slowed down, releasing album after album in their own carved out corner of the music biz. Recent hit single (and title track to their recent album) “The Girl is Crying in her Latte” came next, using vocalist Russell Mael’s trademark lyrical interpolation/repetition along with industrial skronk to make for a driving, fun dance number. This might be one of the few times where a cameo from the song’s video star Cate Blanchett would not have been helpful (she showed up with them at Glastonbury) as small-minded press might have made that the focus of their coverage rather than the stellar fun the band worked so hard to perform here.
Vintage era cut known for its inclusion on the classic ‘80s film Valley Girl “Angst in My Pants” (that name alone is worth a smile and a chuckle) followed with bouncing energy. The band went even deeper into their catalog next, going for the raucous spelling bee glam pop of “Beaver O’Lindy” from 1973’s A Woofer in Tweeter’s Clothing. 1980 single “When I’m With You” was one of numerous songs on the evening that demonstrated how inseparable from the band’s sound keyboardist Ron Mael’s minimalist and colorful playing is. Russell introduced “Nothing Is As Good As They Say It Is” as being about a baby twenty-two hours after being born, believing the word they have entered is no good and with newborn buyer’s remorse wanting to return to the womb from whence they came. Instead of artful humor, “It Doesn’t Have To Be That Way” was offered as a testament to being unafraid to change streams many years into life, that an initial choice in profession might not be any person’s last act in life, new beginnings always being just around the corner. They may have also been the first ever band to lead the Hollywood Bowl crowd to sing about “balls” confidently espousing, “Balls / all you need are balls / To succeed are balls / all you need are,” on “Balls,” perhaps a sermon on how their own unique approach to music has always been possible for them.
Ron came out from behind his giant synthesizer for “The Shopping Mall of Love” to speak-sing about a romantic tryst with a woman from Beverly Hills over staccato drums. “We Go Dancing” was introduced as if North Korean dictator Kim Jong Un had decided he wanted to be the world’s greatest DJ and that dancing in his country would be mandatory for the populous. You have to give it to Sparks, as the flight of fancy here is just a wild concept and truly hilarious to explore. Things just kept improving song by song through the set, as “Bon Voyage” and its playful vocal melodies enjoyably set the stage for the precision techno celebration of “Music That You Can Dance To.” By this point, the crowd could be heard giving Sparks loud cheers after each song. The band had fully won the audience over and they were elated to see Sparks in this victory lap so long into such a storied career. “When Do I Get To Sing ‘My Way’” appeared to offer Russell Mael’s ruminations on his unique vocal cadence and melodic phrasing. They then went for explosive bombast on the 1979 cut “The Number One Song In Heaven.”
With the crowd cheering louder and louder after each song, they ended as strongly as imaginable, going for the rocking-est flavor of their material on “This Town Ain’t Big Enough For the Both of Us” which was a freight train of infectious syncopated vocals and lush piano start-stop melodies. Avid mxdwn readers might remember that Faith No More famously covered this song with Sparks on their 1997 album Plagiarism and even joined Faith No More to perform it live when they reunited in 2010 on the second of two-night stand at L.A.’s Palladium. Another track from their recent album “Gee, That Was Fun” served as the perfect bookend to opener “So May We Start,” operating thematically as a witty commentary on not realizing how great something was until it was over. After returning for an encore they ended with the one-two punch of “My Baby’s Taking Me Home” and “All That.” The former took the repetition of the song’s title and turned it into an epic saga mutating through numerous forms of sonic alchemy. The latter was an ecstatic slice of gratitude. It went ever further too as the crowd took to turning on the flashlights on their cell phones for this one and the Mael brothers warmly pointed out how beautiful it was to see ocean of lights out amongst the darkness.
At the risk of sounding past expiration date, there just has not been many bands in the modern era taking risks like this. Sparks—like contemporaries Roxy Music or The Residents—are just unusual to the point where you cannot refer to them by anything other than themselves. There’s no frame of reference for what they have mined for over five decades now. And age and expectations be damned, at 74 and 77 years old respectively they played this show like they were twenty-somethings hell-bent to claim their place. What a stunning victory lap, perhaps long, long overdue and what a triumphant display of the sheer joy in embracing the unusual, especially in the most uncertain of times.
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