Centered on the Mael brothers, slightly more stylish Russell on vocals and perversely mustachioed Ron on keyboards, Sparks pioneered a theatrical but very commercial-sounding quirk-pop in 1970 that went nowhere in the States despite production encouragement from Todd Rundgren and so they eventually relocated to London where that sort of thing was de rigeuer owing to the popularity of Roxy Music, a band that Sparks was always being compared to, though usually in a negative sense. Nevertheless, they enjoyed a series of hit singles and albums in the UK that probably paved the way for the synth pop boom of the 80s but, of course, punk intervened, making Sparks' tongue-in-cheek bubblegum synth pop sound ridiculous, especially when given the overblown treatment of bombast-loving producer Tony Visconti.

Returning to the States, the brothers entered their dance phase and secured the talents of disco gods Giorgio Moroder and Harold Faltmeyer but still couldn't quite breach the Billboard Top 100. That eventually happened in 1984 when they teamed with ex-Go Go Jane Wiedlin. After that, it was every Mael for himself, but Sparks never really went away, releasing an album every couple of years, always with their patented cleverly punned titles, which seem to have made more of an impression after all these years than the songs themselves: "Kimono My House," "Angst in My Pants," "Gratuitous Sax and Senseless Violins," that sort of thing.

If this entry sounds a bit sardonic, I myself was subjected to an onslaught of the Brothers Mael's music in college, where a dorm mate from L.A. used to play them nonstop, convinced they were the second coming of Bowie where to my ears they sounded more like the joke that Freddie Mercury got before anyone else. Still, in terms of pure pop extravagance there are few artists working today who can compete, and if the prospect of hearing Underworld, Simple Plan, or Ian Brown doesn't thrill you, Sparks probably will. Their greatest weapon is sounding a lot better than people expect them to sound.

Phil