Ron and Russell Mael, California's version of the Katzenjammer Kids, are alive and well and recording in Germany. Whomp That Sucker is the third of their post cards from Munich, where they've established a fruitful rapport with the Eurodisco production team of Giorgio Moroder and Mack. Fans should note that the new album is their finest half-hour since the epochal Kimono My House. For those who haven't heard, Sparks are a band that asks the question, Is the world ready for songs that set the droll wit of a James Thurber to music that can only be described as John Philip Sousa meets the Beach Boys?

These borderline wacko cases are probably the most intriguing (and only?) yin-yang brother duo in rock & roll. Russell, with his boyish good looks and ebullient manner, is a perfect foil for Ron, who, with his angular face and Charlie Chaplin-gone-depressive features, seems quietly obsessed. One can almost picture the Maels at home: Russell, in his bedroom, preens for a hot date, while Ron, downstairs, crabbily reclines in a naugahyde easy chair and thinks up awkward situations to put to music.

In Sparks' world, nothing goes right–the zit cream always comes off, and every transaction with the opposite sex quickly deteriorates into a comedy of errors with a nightmarish twist. There's the case of the poor dupe who discovers too late the pitfalls of life with an extraterrestrial spouse in "I Married a Martian." "Wacky Women" finds a confused playboy excoriating the fairer sex from the witness stand: "All they like is sex and sitcoms/Try to be suave, they'll kick you in the bonbons."

Wake up, America. This is Sparks' tenth album of lovable loony tunes. These guys should be someone's heroes by now. With their own cartoon show and everything. (RS 355)

PARKE PUTERBAUGH