Sparta
Words: Christian Crider
Photos: Michael Spadoni

As my stomach churned to the tune of an Alaskan taco, I looked around my favorite venue in Ybor City, The Orpheum, and thought to myself that tonight might just be a good night. After all, I’m a marginal fan of Sparta, mostly due to their status as At the Drive-In’s microwaved leftovers.  Almost as soon as that thought exited my head, I was greeted by the post-emo, panty-dropper show tunes of John Ralston. While Ralston’s music would have been better suited at a high school girl’s sleepover, I have to say, his set did very little to prepare me for Sparta.
 
After learning about the departure of guitarist Paul Hinojos last year, I was curious to see how new guitarist, Keeley Davis, affected their live performance. The band took the stage wearing all black, except for Tony Hajjar, on drums. Incidentally, the fact that Hajjar was wearing white was not the only thing that distinguished him from the rest of the group.

Unfortunately, Hajjar’s performance turned out to be the only thing worth listening to. Aside from his vivid and creative drumming, the entire show was incredibly bland. My curiosity over Davis’ live performance was quickly dashed as each guitar drowned out the other. This wall of sound was only compounded by the fact that each member stood relatively motionless throughout the entire set. There was no emotion or excitement in Sparta’s performance, and I couldn’t help thinking that I would have been just as entertained by a group of robotic, banjo-playing bears.

The style and feel of their new album Threes was completely lost in an emotionless onslaught of manicured sound, and blended unevenly with the songs from Porcelain and Wiretap Scars. I found myself yawning, and I realized that I’d rather be listening to a bad performance than a boring one. There wasn’t anything technically wrong with Sparta’s set, and that’s what bugged me.