#Sparks (band)

[vira-with-no-v]

Based on The number one song in heaven

This song makes me go wild, it’s so good 😭

[frontierpsychopomp]

more

[maelorderbride]

some gifs i grabbed from the sparks brothers

[starringvincentprice]

he has the face of a character actor from the 40s who exclusively played conniving villains until 1952 when he was blacklisted for having communist ties

[seaofreverie]

Based on this post

[wormwaveart]

Happy 50th Birthday Kimono My House!

[sircatticus]

this is the album cover of all time, ron & russ u guys were craaaazy for this one

[maelwives]

OH MY GOD IM CRYING 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[cilogram]

Sparks and Les Rita Mitsouko at Montmartre Recorded for Cent bougies pour la tour Eiffel which aired on March 30th 1989 (x)

[taiso]

yukihiro takahashi with ron and russell mael of sparks !

taken sometime during the boxing match in promotion of whomp that sucker, circa 1981.

scanned from ymo book: young muzak ojisan (1983)

[vira-with-no-v]

I’m so normal about them yep

[maelorderbride]

sparks performances from the 90s are so funny because its like. dude in his pajamas. somebodies grandfather. beautiful woman in a gown with an insane bob. and theyre all best friends

[nedison]

Sparkstember Day 12: 'Where's the cool places??'

[seaofreverie]

Ron remembered that he also had a bugsona in the year 2000.

(I'm sorry for this.)

[archeolatry]

So there was a point in my work life when Ron Mael was my mortal enemy archnemesis. True story.

I used to work at a famous arthouse theater in West LA from about 2002 until ‘08-’09, when I moved up at another theater in the chain. Even then I was often called in to pinch-hit when the famous place was expecting a film to be busy or if they needed someone between new hires. (I left the company at the end of 2015.)

One of the downsides to working there was that parking was pretty terrible. The theater itself was built in the 1920s, and the street to the east of it was almost all apartments. Most of those were built from the ‘40s up until the ‘60s, so they were largely street parking only. Not to mention the fact that the street on the west side of the theater was getting busier-- hipster boutiques and Pan-Asian eateries had started popping up a few blocks down the road from us. (IYKYK.)

So the employees of the theater, the video store, and the less-hip restaurants next to the main drag all had to compete with customers of said businesses —as well as those of the used bookstore— for the handful of double-stacked spaces in the back alley. The best space was the fairly generous single spot by the dumpster. You weren’t gonna get towed because you blocked someone in, or get blocked in yourself, or risk your car’s bumper by parking in the other, shorter single space by the freeway on-ramp; you could simply just park your car and forget about it until your shift was over- no need to play musical chairs. And if your shift ended after midnight and you had the day’s cash earnings stuffed in your jacket to deposit at the bank, the closeness of the spot was optimal.

That is all to say that the dumpster spot was hot property.

Cue the Black Volkswagen Thing.

(I marked The Thing even then because a member of the theater’s Rocky Horror cast also owned a Volkswagen Thing, though his was white. I thought it funny that two of the same rare car* should converge in this one place, often on the same day.)

The Thing did not belong to the theater staff. It did not belong to the video store staff. (I asked.) It did not belong to the staff of the used bookstore, who had three dedicated spots and never had enough customers to need more than two employees at a time**. (It might have belonged to one of the restaurants, but we hadn’t the Spanish nor Arabic skills to ask.) Nevertheless, The Thing was parked in the dumpster spot at some point during almost every weekend, and it would be there at the worst possible time.

It seemed that I could rarely beat The Thing to the coveted space no matter how early I got there. Maybe if I showed up before 4. But very often between 4:30 and 5:55, The Thing was there. Sometimes I stuck my head out the back door during a shift to see if the space was free. If it wasn’t, it was because a car had parked there after The Thing had left. And sometimes The Thing had the audacity to take up the other single spot to the same result. It seemed The Thing existed entirely to spot-block me.

Then one day, while I was attempting to park, I saw a man coming from the bookstore towards the lot. It was Boss Accountant***.

Boss Accountant was a lithe man with a stern face and plastered hair that was too black for his age; he usually dressed in a crisp white shirt and tie with proper trousers, and seemed like he was on his lunch break from an accounting firm despite it being the weekend. He looked like the boss battle in a video game where you had to fight your way through an office building; the final accountant you had to beat to level up. I had seen him at the bookstore more than once.

I put my car into park —hazard lights on— waiting to see which spot would be freed up.

Boss Accountant was approaching The Thing.

A customer! It was a customer that had been spot-blocking me! Not even one of my fellow workers there for a six-hour haul, but someone there for a capricious ninety minutes at best. And a customer of the stuffy bookstore to boot. Clearly not deserving of the coveted spot.

I glared at him beneath my sunglasses while he took his sweet time getting there. I tried not to begrudge the old man, BUT…!

My fingers drummed irritably against the steering wheel. This fucker. I inched slightly closer as he got in the car. The spot was MINE gatdammit and no one else was gonna come along and take it.

Finally, after an irritably long time (and probably him figuring out that I wasn’t a crazed fan trying to box him in but someone gunning for the coveted parking space) the backup lights came on. I reversed. He pulled out and drove away. I pulled in, triumphant. Spot-blocked no more! At least, not on that day. In my own mind, I had tangled with The Thing and won. (I was like 23 and undiagnosed, bruh- go easy on me here.)

Then one day the dumpster spot got painted off as disabled parking, and the dumpsters were moved to the other single spot, leaving us all to fend for ourselves in the double-stack and on the street.

I’m unsure what year this all took place, and I didn’t know (at the time) what had become of Boss Accountant and The Thing, since I saw less of them after that. Thinking back, it was probably promo and touring for Hello Young Lovers or 21x21/Exotic Creatures... that took him/it away. My moving to the other theater made the point moot anyway. (It’s definitely moot now as the bookstore was razed for a new-build apartment sometime in 2016. The new building does not have its own parking garage.)

However, enough time had passed that I didn’t recognize Boss Accountant when I sold him a ticket for The Umbrellas of Cherbourg during a slow weekend matinee in 2014. Pleasant demeanor. Polite smile. Crisp shirt, too-black plastered hair. Didn’t order concessions, didn’t dwell in the lobby but went right into the theater. The old man was surely out of earshot when my manager looked over at me. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

“No.”

“That was Ron Mael from Sparks.”

“Who?”

---

Thank goodness I watched The Sparks Brothers at home on Netflix, cuz when I saw that car I about lost my gatdamn mind.

*J, the Rocky Horror guy, told me they were rare. Looking up info now, I see that less than 30k of them were made for the North American market, and they were only sold in the US from 1973-74. A 2017 report from an informal registry of Thing owners estimates around 5k of them still exist today in the entire US. Weird, right?

**The bookstore itself was highly curated and had the mid-century Spartan sparseness of a Bell Telephone Laboratories office. I didn’t care for it much; it was too hoity-toity and tended to eschew paperbacks even of Very Good Books for rare or collectible hardcovers. It wasn’t particularly welcoming, and didn’t even really have much of an Old Book Smell. But in the days before The Pocket Internet, employees were allowed to read while the film played, and sometimes you just needed a New And/Or Different Book. ***This addition is about 75 notes too late, but I felt the need to clarify. We had lots of 'recurring characters' that we ended up giving Sex and the City-style names to, as one often does in a service environment. We had a man we called Large Diet because, through physical or mental impairment, those were the only words he would/could croak out like some bizarro Pokémon (tho he later added "Thanks."). We had a man -whose real name I learned but forgot- that we called Lincoln because he had a chinstrap beard. (He was Lincolnesque in no other way. He was of average height, pudgy, and of a merry sort of disposition.) So, naturally, the man from bookstore got himself a moniker just for sticking out, despite the fact that we never spoke and only Acknowledged Each Other With A Nod In That Way White People Do For Some Reason. (You know what I mean.)

[russellmaelofficial]

sparks- funny face (1981)