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Last night I saw Sparks for the first time.
Some back-and-forth was required at the outset - I bought an e-ticket from TicketBastard, which usually means a ticket sent by email that can be displayed on a device or printed. However, TicketBastard decided thay they mean mobile tickets, i.e. those that can only be used by displaying them on their official app on a smartphone on arrival at the venue. No screenshots, no printing (and no wifi at the venue). Contacting TicketBastard they said that there was no alternative, and that the venue wouldn't accept anything else. Hammersmith's box office were, in contrast, friendly, professional, and helpful, and said "no problem", which was a relief.
I'd forgotten just how steeply-raked the floor of Hammersmith was, at least until you reached the front quarter. At least they've got removeable seats now - I remember when it was all-seated, even seeing Megadeth in the early '90s. (Apparently the fixed seating was only replaced by the removeable seats in 2003.)
No support act, just doors at seven, and the headliners on at half eight, playing for an hour and forty-five minutes against a backdrop of colour-changing square LED frames, like a modernised 1980s Top Of The Pops set. The set was a good mix of songs from the new album and recognisable classics, and their eye for a catchy hook and chorus meant that singing along to the new songs wasn't a challenge. Sparks have been recording for longer than I've been alive, and first played the Apollo in 1974, and were as good at what they do as you'd expect, with a four-piece backing band, Ron dressed in black and scowling from behind his keyboard as is traditional, and Russell dancing about the stage in a red, white, and gold suit, swapping the jacket for a waistcoat partway through.
Opening with So May We Start, they continued with barely a pause through an eighteen-song set, briefly allowing Ron to get up from behind his keyboard to do vocals on Suburban Homeboy and to do a quick 'dance routine' during The Number One Song In Heaven. Russell's intro to Please Don't Fuck Up My World pointed out that it was even more relevant now than when originally released in 2020. Eventually they left the stage, but the backing band then reappeared, still towelling their heads and faces, and Russell and Ron returned for The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte and All That. There followed an impressive demonstration of mild embarrassment, as the band left, and the Maels stood on stage as the crowd clapped and cheered. It was obvious that they were waiting to leave the stage, but also that they didn't want to be rude and do so while the applause was still going strong. Eventually they were allowed to leave.
One advantage of gigs at Hammersmith is that the Capital Restuarant is open late and you can buy a lahmacun with salad for a few quid, which met the post-gig peckishness before heading home. (Another advantage is that, if I've got enough time, I can get there by tram and tube, avoiding the middle of London.)
(For full details of what they played, here's the setlist.)
Some back-and-forth was required at the outset - I bought an e-ticket from TicketBastard, which usually means a ticket sent by email that can be displayed on a device or printed. However, TicketBastard decided thay they mean mobile tickets, i.e. those that can only be used by displaying them on their official app on a smartphone on arrival at the venue. No screenshots, no printing (and no wifi at the venue). Contacting TicketBastard they said that there was no alternative, and that the venue wouldn't accept anything else. Hammersmith's box office were, in contrast, friendly, professional, and helpful, and said "no problem", which was a relief.
I'd forgotten just how steeply-raked the floor of Hammersmith was, at least until you reached the front quarter. At least they've got removeable seats now - I remember when it was all-seated, even seeing Megadeth in the early '90s. (Apparently the fixed seating was only replaced by the removeable seats in 2003.)
No support act, just doors at seven, and the headliners on at half eight, playing for an hour and forty-five minutes against a backdrop of colour-changing square LED frames, like a modernised 1980s Top Of The Pops set. The set was a good mix of songs from the new album and recognisable classics, and their eye for a catchy hook and chorus meant that singing along to the new songs wasn't a challenge. Sparks have been recording for longer than I've been alive, and first played the Apollo in 1974, and were as good at what they do as you'd expect, with a four-piece backing band, Ron dressed in black and scowling from behind his keyboard as is traditional, and Russell dancing about the stage in a red, white, and gold suit, swapping the jacket for a waistcoat partway through.
Opening with So May We Start, they continued with barely a pause through an eighteen-song set, briefly allowing Ron to get up from behind his keyboard to do vocals on Suburban Homeboy and to do a quick 'dance routine' during The Number One Song In Heaven. Russell's intro to Please Don't Fuck Up My World pointed out that it was even more relevant now than when originally released in 2020. Eventually they left the stage, but the backing band then reappeared, still towelling their heads and faces, and Russell and Ron returned for The Girl Is Crying In Her Latte and All That. There followed an impressive demonstration of mild embarrassment, as the band left, and the Maels stood on stage as the crowd clapped and cheered. It was obvious that they were waiting to leave the stage, but also that they didn't want to be rude and do so while the applause was still going strong. Eventually they were allowed to leave.
One advantage of gigs at Hammersmith is that the Capital Restuarant is open late and you can buy a lahmacun with salad for a few quid, which met the post-gig peckishness before heading home. (Another advantage is that, if I've got enough time, I can get there by tram and tube, avoiding the middle of London.)
(For full details of what they played, here's the setlist.)
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