The album closer on Whomp That Sucker goes out grinning and unhinged. “Wacky Women” is a fast, scrappy, punk-tinged romp where the whole band empties the tank—especially drummer David Kendrick, who drives the song through a series of stop-and-slam accents that cleverly land on the second beat. There’s a cartoony siren/ambulance imitation, manic call-and-response, and a pile-on of little arrangement gags that keep the last minute buzzing. It’s more “studio creation” than sing-around-the-campfire tune, but that’s the point: Side B leans into Sparks’ wilder streak, and this track caps it with a wink. Played fairly often in ’81–’82 (and revived for the 2008 album shows), it’s also inspired like-for-like covers, underlining how tightly the chaos is constructed. A suitably energetic curtain call for a record that deserved far more attention.

“That’s Not Nastassia” is one of the wildest moments on Whomp That Sucker. Built around the obsessive repetition of its title phrase, the song piles on layer after layer until it reaches a chaotic crescendo, only to twist back with a clever fake-out ending. Some of us found it a Sparks overload—too much, too insistent—while others adored its manic energy and sinister piano riff. It’s a track that splits opinion but demonstrates Sparks’ willingness to push their sound into excess. The Nastassia in question almost certainly references actress Nastassja Kinski, whom the Maels knew through Giorgio Moroder, though Ron clarified the song wasn’t about her—just a name that was fun to repeat endlessly. The result is part horror soundtrack, part pop satire, echoing traditions of albums that deliberately include an overwhelming, chaotic track. Rarely performed live (only in 2008 during the 21x21 concerts), it nonetheless stands out as one of the most divisive and memorable songs on the record.

“Suzie Safety” finds Sparks in lighter territory. The arrangement contrasts fuzzy guitars with a naïve, almost childlike piano line, giving the track an innocent, slightly whimsical air. Lyrically, it’s about a character who insists on rules — no smoking, no drinking — making the whole thing feel like a public safety jingle. The panel jokes it could easily fit on Sesame Street, and that’s not far off. While charming in its way, most of us found it one of the weaker songs on Whomp That Sucker — pleasant, but bordering on anonymous compared to the stronger, quirkier tracks surrounding it. Still, the wordless vocals and small production details give it some sparkle, and it does provide a natural breather before the more eccentric songs that follow. Never performed live except during the 2008 “21x21” concerts, it has had the occasional cover on Sparks tribute albums, though its modest character makes it an unlikely choice for reinvention.

We move into the second half of Whomp That Sucker with “Don’t Shoot Me,” a track driven by what the panel dubs the “rhino beat” — a heavy, thumping rhythm that plods forward with almost animalistic determination. At first glance, it’s deceptively simple, but the layering and steady build give it a growing intensity that sneaks up on you. Lyrically, Sparks play with perspectives — from rhinos and hippos to hunters and their unfortunate outcomes — all filtered through Ron Mael’s trademark wit. Some of us heard it as a catchy, groove-heavy gem that gets better with every listen, while others found it plodding and less immediate than the rest of the album. The song was briefly a B-side in the early ’80s and even inspired a cover in a Sparks tribute project decades later. Not a setlist regular, but one we could easily imagine Iggy Pop tearing into.

Flipping to Side B, Sparks open with The Willys, a track that immediately divides opinion. Built around an endlessly repeated chorus, it straddles the line between playful earworm and deliberate annoyance. The song leans on a rock ’n’ roll and doo-wop feel, updated with Sparks’ usual eccentricity and a flurry of strange noises, clattering effects, and even a sudden drop into low-pitched vocals that could almost be Frank Zappa in miniature.

For some in the panel, its sheer persistence makes it irresistible fun; for others, it’s the one “slightly annoying Sparks track” that seems to appear on nearly every album. Either way, it’s undeniably memorable, the kind of oddball cut that sticks in your head long after it ends. Performed live only in 1981 and briefly revived in 2008, it hasn’t become a Sparks staple, but it remains a fascinating curiosity that shows how the band never shied away from testing the patience and humor of their audience.

Side A closes with a small sci-fi epic: a big, stadium-ready groove wrapped around a B-movie love story. I Married a Martian pairs crisp new-wave drive with glinting arpeggios, stacked vocals, and a lyric that zips from Vegas chapels to alien domesticity (“Vive la différence”)—even sneaking in luxe fur (“ermine”) for good measure. It’s witty, cinematic Sparks: pomp and punch balanced by deadpan humor.

Not released as a single, the track nevertheless became a KROQ favorite in Los Angeles in 1981, one of the songs that helped reboot Sparks’ momentum in the U.S. Its longer length and carefully layered arrangement make it stand out as one of the most ambitious pieces on Whomp That Sucker, showing the new lineup firing on all cylinders. Lyrically it balances parody and romance, while musically it blends grandeur with sly playfulness, closing Side A on a high.

With Upstairs, Sparks get playful, percussive, and just a little noisy. Recorded at Musicland Studios in Munich, the track layers pounding bass, quirky synths, and literal broken glass (credited to producer Reinhold Mack!) alongside pipes and metallic clatter. Some have called it a “precursor to industrial music,” though Sparks keep it danceable and witty rather than bleak. Lyrically cryptic—half metaphor, half literal stairwell—the song stands out as one of the more experimental cuts on Whomp That Sucker. A KROQ radio favorite in 1981 and a strong live number in the early 80s, it still sparks debate on where humor, groove, and chaos collide.

We head into the album cuts of Whomp That Sucker with Where’s My Girl—a deep track that many fans call one of Sparks’ hidden gems. With tempo shifts, organ-like keys, and sharp post-punk textures, it feels both timeless and of its 1981 moment, evoking Magazine or Public Image Ltd. while remaining unmistakably Sparks. Russell pushes into his higher register, the band leans into quirky rhythmic turns, and the lyrics—another classic tale of romantic frustration—wrap it all in trademark Mael wit. Never a single and rarely performed live, it’s nevertheless a standout for those who know it.

Sparks keep the momentum going with Funny Face, the album’s second single: a tight, mid-tempo new-wave earworm with Blondie/Bowie-ish guitar strums, a simple singalong chorus, and that cheeky call-and-response backing vocal. Lyrically it’s classic Mael—darkly comic and story-driven—ending as abruptly as it begins. We talk the sharp arrangement, the delightfully odd video (and the infamous prank cut they first sent RCA), and why L.A.’s KROQ put this one at #15 on its 1981 year-end list despite no U.S. single release. A bright, accessible cut that helped reboot Sparks’ stateside momentum.

We kick off Sparks’ band-reborn, new-wave era with “Tips for Teens,” the punchy opener and UK lead single from Whomp That Sucker. It’s classic Mael: a breathless hook, razor-sharp humor (“I’ve got a snapshot of your Aunt Maureen—she’s 90 and you’re a teen”), and a tight live-band snap from the Bates Motel lineup. We dig into the song’s arrangement (that frenetic keyboard break!), the boxing-themed video, and how KROQ airplay helped revive Sparks’ LA momentum even without a U.S. single. Plus: why this one belongs on any early-’80s Sparks “best of,” and how it roared back into the setlist in 2022.