Sam Sparro – Complex or Confused? (Part I of II)

Sam Sparro is an intriguing character. Everything about him seems not exactly mysterious, but at least somewhat cloudy: his name, age, heritage, sexuality, religious influences, musical pedigree, lyrics, intentions, and sense of humor are all cloaked in one way or another. Even his album cover is a bit disguising.

And then there’s his music.

Don’t even try to define that.

House?…Soul?… Spoof?…Funk?

Electro?…Disco?…Religious?…Pop?

Electro-soul spoof-disco-pop mixed with religious- funk-house??? It’s enough to make you crazy.

Or maybe it’s just plain fun. Because when you get past Sam Sparro the man, and instead just focus on his music, things can get extremely enjoyable. But whether or not Sparro wants his listeners to ignore his upbringing, lifestyle, and motivations in order to just hear his music is up for debate. Though I think he’d like us to be able to understand him, I’d still love the chance to ask him how he feels. But there is one thing about Sam Sparro that is neither mysterious nor cloudy, complex nor confused. In fact it’s not even remotely questionable:

“Black and Gold,” the first single off Sparro’s just-released eponymous first album (Island 2008), is absolutely and completely undeniable. It is currently sitting at Number Two on the UK Singles Chart, bested only by the musical atrocity that is “4 Minutes” from Madonna and Justin Timberlake. (What? Bitter? Who, me? Nahhhhhh.) Sparro’s voice is remarkably dark and soulful, especially for a young, white, hipster-looking kid. He sings with a tinge of yearning and palpable sense of urgency — when Chaka Khan first heard Sparro sing years ago she’s said to have exclaimed, “Damn! That white boy can sing.” — and the accompanying beat is utterly infectious. It seeps slowly into you, and doesn’t leave easily.

Now I’m not claiming “Black and Gold” is a great song, or even a good one, though I happen to think highly of it. It’s just that you can’t deny it. It’s insistent. Kind of like “Young Folks” by Peter Bjorn and John — you may not even like their music (I don’t) or the song itself (meh), but there’s just something about it that ropes you in a little bit no matter what you do. The same is true of Sparro’s “Black and Gold.” You don’t have to be a loyal customer of whatever kind of music it is that Sparro is selling, you just can’t help but buy in, even if only for a second.

But do the Words Matter?

If you’ve ever seen The Graduate you probably remember the scene where Benjamin (Dustin Hoffman) is franticly driving his Alfa Romeo convertible through tunnels and fields to try and break up Elaine’s wedding. You probably also remember that throughout the scene, Simon & Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson” is playing in the background. What you may not remember, though, is that, as the song plays in the film there is only one chorus and no verses, just some “Dee da dee’s.” The reason being, Paul Simon hadn’t written the words yet. When he did get around to putting lyrics down, “Mrs. Robinson,” whose tune was already familiar to anyone who saw the film, went to number one on the charts and became the group’s second major hit after “Sounds of Silence.”

When asked in a recent interview why “Mrs. Robinson” became such a huge success, Art Garfunkel answered that he didn’t know but that all big hits have something about their rhythm that just appeals to people. Sure, Garfunkel wasn’t the lyricist of the group, but his statement does make you wonder if half of such a lyrically-rooted supergroup concedes that songs connect to people because of their rhythm and not their words, then where does that leave lyrics in the broader sense? How important were the lyrics to “Mrs. Robinson’s” success? Does it matter what we, the listeners, are singing along to?

It’s easy to come up with examples of music where lyrics play second fiddle to a song’s overall feel (not to mention all the instrumental songs out there). Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit,” Pearl Jam’s “Evenflow,” and Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” are just a few random examples of this. But even with songs where we can understand the lyrics (and love them), do we really like the song because of what it is saying, or are we most drawn to it because of how the song says it?