The Sparks Brothers
2021, Director: Edgar Wright
When I first heard Sparks, they felt like one of those brilliant secrets of the used vinyl bins that you run into from time to time. For a few years, that was the only place I ever encountered them (never saw them in the CD racks at all). In the 90s, most old records were treated like the unwanted mess left over from yesterday’s party. Prices were low even on a lot of classic stuff and on a good day, I could get my hands on some real jewels for shockingly little money.
You bought records based on cool cover art a lot of the time and I’m pretty sure that’s why I went for Kimono My House one day.
I paid my $3.99 for it, took it home (well, to my dorm), slipped on the headphones, laid the needle down on the record and then when “This Town Ain’t Big Enough for the Both of Us” started to pound, explode, and do melodic somersaults in my ears, it was one of those “holy shit” moments. It’s not just a great song; it’s a song that can feel like it’s changing you, like it’s sending you in a strange new direction somehow.
That song turned up loud and coming at you from left field is still my personal pick for the best way to discover Sparks.
The second best way? In 2021, Edgar Wright’s documentary feels good to me. It’s a lively, energizing film that I’d happily recommend to someone who’s new to the curious of path of Ron and Russell Mael.
Like all good documentaries, The Sparks Brothers tells a story about people. Wright is fascinated by them and he carries us along.
Sparks are not a “band”. Sparks are two brothers who’ve been making music together since 1967 with various configurations of players–everything from full rock bands to a single drummer who backs up Ron on keyboards and Russell on vocals–who can change anytime. The Maels are still going at it today. Over the past fifty years, they’ve been everything from stars of the 70s English glitter-rock scene to disco mavens to sarcastic California synth-poppers to nearly thrown out of the music business.
They’re a fascinating mess of contradictions.
They possess a genius for pop, but have always been just a little too strange to ever conquer the world.
They can be flummoxing and experimental, but they’re always undercutting their arty side with funny lyrics that lead some serious rock dudes to dismiss them as a joke band.
They’re from California, but on some of their 1970s watershed albums they sound vaguely European.
The first time I heard them, I was sure that the singer was a woman.
Today, the Maels are both in their 70s, but have more drive and energy than a lot of artistes half their age.
Meanwhile, despite being in the public eye since the Nixon Administration, no one knows very much about the Maels. Have either of them ever married? Been divorced? Any children?
Before I saw this film, I didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. After seeing this film, I still don’t. We learn a little about their early years, but Wright doesn’t reveal much more. Ron and Russell are strict creatures of habit who make music, drink coffee and try to stay in good physical shape. That’s about all that comes out.
For his angle on the story, Wright takes the true music fan’s approach and focuses on their albums. All twenty-five or so Sparks albums get at least a moment in the spotlight, via commentary from a variety of talking heads and a blizzard of great archival video. Sparks are uniquely suited for that approach because they’ve had so many different sounds and phases. Each album’s success or (very often) failure lead to their next move. Their best work and their worst are all essential parts of the story of an act known for never coasting.
Wright loves Sparks for taking chances and he’s not gonna miss any of them, even if the results weren’t always great, (And besides every Sparks fan has a sleeper favorite album that they want to hear about. Mine is In Outer Space, a jaded and sarcastic relic from their 80s new wave period, best known for the semi-hit “Cool Places” in which Russell sings with Jane Wiedlin.)
The result is that despite the camera not really invading their personal lives much, the Maels come off as more genuinely human than a lot of rock star documentary subjects do.
This is a fun film made with love.