Mars Volta – Frances
The Mute
(Universal, Gold
Standard Laboratories, Strummer, 2005)
Buy the album here
Mars
Volta exist outside my comfort zone. Watching
me trying to discuss this band must be horrible viewing. I desperately want to know what I’m talking
about, and I feel like I have so many things to say, but in the end I just stumble
around saying “prog” and “jazz influences” a lot, hoping nobody notices the
bead of sweat on my forehead or the nervous twitch in my eye. A work colleague, after I had recommended them
the band, once asked me, “what’s with all the long stretches of just weird noises?”. My response began confidently, “Mars Volta
are trying to…”, before the idea withered in the air between us, fell to the
floor, and died an ignoble death. I had
nothing. In all honesty, I don’t think I
have much more now, but Frances The Mute
is a joyous, mind-bending, challenging, fun, and insanely catchy record. So I’ll try not to think too hard.
The
ease with which the music transports me from setting to setting without my
awareness is the most powerful attraction.
One moment I’m in a Humphrey Bogart film set in a bar in Argentina, the
next I’m in Outer Space watching the birth of a star, without a hint of turbulence
on the journey between the two. In among
all the weird effects, extended ambient passages, and “wankery” are incredible
musicians capable of the most delightful melodies, stirring guitar rock, and
captivating string arrangements. Omar
Rodríguez-López is one of the most talented songwriters of his generation; Cedric
Bixler-Zavala’s vocals are unique, bewildering, and seemingly limitless; and
there are incredible guest contributions from David Campbell, Flea, and John Frusciante. The latter’s solos on “L’Via L’Viaquez” are charged
explosions of pure energy that galvanise the entire song and help to prepare
the listener for Bixler-Zavala’s wild, soaring Spanish vocals. The cultured trumpet work on “Miranda That
Ghost Just Isn’t Holy Anymore” comes from Back
To The Future II’s very own Flea, and is backed up by the excellent string
arrangements and performances of David Campbell. Some may argue that having to wade through seemingly
endless minutes of “noise” at the start of that track is more trouble than it’s
worth.
But
I disagree. For me, I’m still running
the previous melody in my head while these ambient stretches transport me to
the next. Being given the time to enjoy the
textures, to play with them, change them, reform them as my own is a rewarding
listening experience. The beauty of the
sounds with which Mars Volta emerge from these various soundscapes, squeaks, and
effects is gauged to perfection. The
delicacy of the trumpet that re-awakes us about four minutes in to “Miranda…”
is sublime, and the ongoing peaks and troughs of “Cassandra Geminni”, originally
intended to be a single track, are expertly managed. The suite, comprising the final eight tracks of
the original CD release, is the album’s most emotive and is built on the most
up-front drumming on the record, frantic guitar solo and vocal sparring, epic
riffs, bat-shit crazy bass playing, and all the weird synthesizer squeaks Omar
Rodríguez-López can think of. It might seem
like songwriting by splatter gun to some, but all I know is that for the final
30 minutes or so of this record I am in complete thrall to all of Mars Volta’s
sounds. Even when it sounds like Ron
Burgundy is playing jazz flute in the background. If all of that seems like too much hard work,
simply turn to “The Widow” with its high drama, passion, and melodic
immediacy. Mars Volta are more than
capable of hitting you with vocal hook after vocal hook, or insidiously catchy
riffs, or even strings so memorable they’ll be running through your mind for
days, but they give these moments the space to transform in your mind to
something far more meaningful.
Mars
Volta divide opinion. There were those
that preferred At The Drive-In and found Mars Volta to be an obstruction to their
return. There are those that point to
their self-indulgence and pretentiousness, especially live, as reason enough to
discard them. At the same time, Mars
Volta have captured the imagination of many fans who perhaps the miss the grand
ambitions of older prog and psych bands.
In fact, Q, Mojo, and Classic Rock have all included this
album on various “best of” lists, while other publications have derided its,
and the musicians’, absurdity. Perhaps
it’s that absurdity that helped open my mind to the transformative potential of
music outside my normal sphere of operation.
It was, at least, a new beginning for me. There’s something here, it’s just not
everyone sees it. They’re probably
thinking too hard.
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