More than a decade after their last proper Paris concert with a full band, Sparks returns to the French capital armed with yet another excellent album and seemingly limitless creative energy. The Mael brothers have spent nearly half a century confounding expectations, outlasting trends and producing one of the most singular catalogues in popular music. Hippopotamus, their latest release, demonstrates that neither their imagination nor their songwriting instincts have diminished with age.
Unsurprisingly, the new material occupies a prominent place in the set, and the audience embraces it enthusiastically. That reaction says a great deal about Sparks. Few veteran acts can introduce a substantial amount of recent material without noticeably affecting the atmosphere. Yet songs from Hippopotamus sit comfortably alongside compositions spanning the band's entire career, from the glam-rock eccentricities of Kimono My House to the electronic innovations of No. 1 in Heaven and the later pop experiments that followed.
The remarkable thing is how coherent it all feels. On paper, Sparks' discography should resemble a patchwork of disconnected stylistic detours. Instead, every era shares the same unmistakable identity. Whether filtered through glam rock, disco, synth-pop or dance music, the Maels' melodic sensibilities, lyrical wit and delightfully unconventional instincts remain immediately recognizable.
The band performs the material with confidence and precision, but as always much of the audience's attention gravitates toward the brothers themselves. Russell Mael remains an endlessly charismatic frontman, while Ron continues to cultivate his famously impassive presence behind the keyboards. Which is precisely why his brief dance routine remains such a highlight. For a few glorious seconds, the man who normally resembles a stern headmaster suddenly transforms into an unlikely showman, to the audience's obvious delight.
The evening also features a guest appearance by French filmmaker Leos Carax, who joins the band for a rendition of the appropriately titled "When You're a French Director," one of several moments that reinforce the uniquely playful atmosphere surrounding Sparks.
Trying to explain Sparks to someone unfamiliar with the band remains an almost impossible task. Every description feels incomplete. Art-pop, glam rock, synth-pop, musical comedy, avant-garde pop... all of these labels contain part of the truth without capturing the whole picture.
What can be said with certainty is that the Mael brothers have spent decades proving that intelligence, originality and humour are not obstacles to great pop music but essential ingredients. Long ago, Frank Zappa famously asked whether humour belongs in music.
Sparks has been answering that question for nearly fifty years, and the answer remains an emphatic yes.
