Last night I went to see Sparks at the Hollywood Bowl, my second trip to the Bowl in as many weeks. The drive to the NoHo subway station was once again traffic free, the benefit of a Sunday evening show. I got off the train at Hollywood and Highland and walked over to Grauman's Chinese, where I was scheduled to meet Grim at 7:15. He didn't want to meet me at the corner of Hollywood and Highland, because he thought it was too sketchy, and it is: besides the tourists and the Imitators (The Joker has replaced Michael Jackson), there are always hustlers trying to hand you their "new cd", for which - if they can get it in your hand - they'll ask for five or ten bucks "donation". Hollywood and Highland used to be an okay place before it got commercialized, so I said "Yeah, I'll meet you at Grauman's Chinese." The irony was, that location was even worse. I got there at 6:50, 25 minutes till Grim showed up, and had to listen to a phony "Christian" hate group, about ten in number, standing in front of the Chinese Theater, telling all the patrons they are going to Hell, for supporting decadent movie stars, for supporting gay marriage, for supporting Hollywood "values" in general. That's how their MC addressed the crowd, "Hollywood, you are going to Hell!" The dude had strong vocal cords, and must've drank a couple Red Bulls, because he was pumped. He talked, I mean yelled, for about 20 minutes without a break.
It got so intense that employees of the Chinese fought back by blasting AC/DC's "Highway To Hell" over their courtyard PA system, I kid you freaking not. I was standing by James Cameron's recently installed hand-and-footprints, and felt myself within an absurdity of epic proportions, one that only got worse when a Millennial Motorcycle Club made the street even noisier by pulling wheelies as they passed, revving the engines on their rice rockets.
Thank goodness Grim showed up on time, so we could get the Hell out of there. Note to self: Hollywood Boulevard, circa 2023, sucks.
But the Hollywood Bowl, one mile up the schtreet, is another story. We sat on a bench just outside the Bowl for They Might Be Giants, who opened. I only knew one of their songs, and it was pretty nerdy, but anyhow, when they went offstage, we went to our seats. Sparks came on at 8:40, and played an 80s-heavy set, featuring a lot of their KROQ-era material, combined with several tunes from their new album, "The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte". It must have been a mindblower for the Brothers Mael to be playing a sold out Hollywood Bowl show to an audience of 18,000 people when they are used to 2500 seaters (or less). Only ten years ago I saw them at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery in front of 300 people. But the recent documentary, "The Sparks Brothers"(2021), apparently made the band a lot of new fans. The movie's director, Edgar Wright, was on hand to see what he created.
Ron and Russ were genuinely blown away by the response. It doesn't mean Sparks is a stadium act all of a sudden, but in select cities they can now fill arena-size venues after struggling in cult status for 50 years.
My first Sparks concert was in December 1975 at the Santa Monica Civic, and now the Maels are in a position to be The Last Band Standing. Their only competition in that regard, as far as I can see, is Alice Cooper, Todd Rundgren and Rick Wakeman. And Paul McCartney, who'll probably play til he's 100.
This show featured the best sound I've heard at any Sparks show. They didn't play long, only 70 minutes followed by a ten minute encore, but the set was jam packed with great songs, and even if half of them weren't familiar (because I didn't follow Sparks from 1977 through 2006), they sounded great in the live setting. The reason I stopped following Sparks after 1976 is well-known. After three mid-70s classics in a row, they made a really bad album in 1976 called "Big Beat" (even the brothers don't like it), and after that, they changed their image and style completely and went from playing glam-rock to (shudder) disco and electronica. So I gave up on them for 26 years, until "Lil' Beethoven" came out in 2002, though I may have to go back and give some of those "disco Sparks" albums a chance, like "Angst in my Pants" and "Balls".
The brothers have a combined age of 152 years old, soon to be 154 when they both celebrate upcoming birthdays. How Russ still hits every note and jumps around the stage at 74, I'll never know, but God Bless him and brother Ron, a musical genius. They knocked the Bowl over; fans had their phone lights on, Russell was beaming. Ron, of course, never changes his expression.
From the early days, they played "Bon Voyage" and "This Town Ain't Big Enough For Both Of Us". You can't have a Sparks concert without it.
For a while, in 1975, Sparks were my favorite band. They're still in my Top Ten, even though I didn't follow them for 26 years. That's because when they came back in 2002, they had another classic in "Lil' Beethoven", and they've been making great albums ever since. Long live the Mael Brothers. But I guess I'll never see 'em in a small venue again. I got back at 11:30 and had time for a 2 mile CSUN walk. All told, a fantastic concert and evening. ////
The previous night, we had a nice, jam-packed 52 minute murder mystery called "The Girl Who Dared"(1944). We haven't had enough short films lately; been stuck watching 85 minuters (an eternity in film), and while we've seen some damn good ones, we prefer to get in and get out, especially when watching on the computee.
As it opens, "Ann Carroll" (Lorna Gray) and her brother "Josh" (Kirk Alyn) are on their way to a small, private island off the coast of New York, where they plan to attend a party thrown by their friend "Beau Richmond" (John Hamilton), a wealthy bon vivant. On their way, they stop for gas at the last available filling station, where the attendant, "Rufus Blair" (Peter Cookson), asks if he can hitch a ride. He seems a little shady (and we know he doesn't really work at the gas station). Josh tells him, "We'll be glad to drop you anywhere, but we can't bring you to the party." After all, it's not their invite.
Rufus says okay, and they drop him down the road, then continue to a ferry which takes them to them to the island. They arrive at the Richmond mansion and are shocked to find themselves in the middle of a domestic dispute. Another Richmond family friend named "David Scott" (Roy Barcroft) is harassing his estranged wife "Sylvia" (Veda Ann Borg), telling her, "you can't leave me! It's me or no other man." She throws him out. Beau Richmond, embarrassed, suggests everyone forget the incident. "After all, we all have our troubles. We're here to have fun, so let's do so."
However, there's a problem, which he explains to all the guests in the main hall. "I know you've all been invited to a party, but the thing is, it wasn't my wife or me who invited you. We don't know who sent the invitations. but since you're all here, let's enjoy ourselves anyway. You're welcome to stay."
He arranges a ghost hunting expedition that very night, based on the local legend of a pirate ship that hit the rocks and sank. Its captain is said to haunt the island once a year on the anniversary of the sinking, and tonight's the night. The guests walk down to the beach at Midnight to see his ghost, and, in the midst of his appearance, Sylvia Scott is murdered! Her husband, who was just seen accosting her in front of a houseful of guests, is the obvious suspect, until Ann Carroll discovers that the dead woman isn't Sylvia but her twin sister Cynthia.
Things get extremely convoluted after that. Rufus Blair arrives, and as we already knew, he isn't a garage mechanic at all, but an insurance company investigator. He informs the guests that a quantity of radium has been stolen from a mainland hospital. When the guests, in succession, try to leave to inform the police (because the phones are out due to an electrical storm), none of their cars will start. Blair has removed their distributor caps because, to him, they're all suspects. In turn, they think he is probably the killer.
It's a good thing Willie Best is on hand as the family servant "Woodrow". He's doing his thing, based on "Stepin Fetchit", which made him famous and earned him a million bucks, but some IMDB reviewers, including one guy who loves this movie and gives it a 10, seem to need to find fault. Those characters were just comedic portrayals of the time, and do you know what? They're funny. Willie Best stood out in every picture he was in. So did Mantan Moreland and Eddie Anderson. That's called talent. If Spike Lee doesn't like it, it's because he has no talent, plain and simple. But anyhow, when Willie shows up, the plot really gets going because he discovers a dead body down in the wine cellar. The movie then becomes an Old Dark House mystery, with great spooky photography. Rufus Blair takes charge, narrowing down the suspects, not only of the murders but of the stolen radium, which could lead to disaster in the wrong hands. Overall, a great conglomeration of ingredients, even if the murder plot involving the twin sisters is incomprehensible. Watch it for the acting, the atmospherics, and Roy Barcroft, one of our best Western villains from last year (second only to Charles King). Two Bigs, though the title is ridiculous, having nothing to do with the plot whatsoever. The picture is good not great. ////
And there you have it. My blogging music is "Moontan" by Golden Earring, the first time I've heard that album all the way through in at least 30 years, probably longer. But man, does it ever hold up. Great stuff, start to finish. My late night is "Pieces For Piano" by Francis Poulenc, as played by Alexandre Tharaud. I hope your week is off to a good start and I send you Tons of Love, as always.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
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