I can't say more sincerely how much I respect Sparks for so thoroughly selling out. Or, more generously, adopting and adapting to the latest technology. Always genre shapeshifters, always chasing the center of the music soul-body, why not get in bed with the hottest dude in the hottest style (Giorgio) and start ruttin.
On a shrinking path, tightening up, cleaning up, Sparks seemed doomed as the 70s wound down.
But Russel gets back in touch with his most falsetto-drenched lothario-struttin self, backed by relentless, writhing pulses. No 1 in Heaven's at once so true to their early bravado and riding still-cresting wave of synths and driving beats. It's them and not-them in blinding fashion, in a way that splinters what the band is. Lesser bands woulda rode their own rut to nowhere, but here's this pulsing, strange piece of new 4/5
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