What Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala accomplished during their initial decade-long run as The Mars Volta cannot be understated; those first six albums, starting with De-Loused in the Comatorium in 2003 and ending with 2012's Noctourniquet, allowed the pair to explore a wide variety of moods, styles and genres, more often than not resulting in stunning aural canvases splattered thick with barely controlled, kaleidoscopic chaos. That said, as they approached their latter period, their albums got a little less feral and unruly; while they were still otherworldly compared to everything else that was out there, it seemed as though The Mars Volta's creative energies had been drained and/or diluted. It should be pointed out that, in addition to the relentless output of Rodriguez-Lopez solo records (of which there are now more than forty), the prolific guitarist/producer had also spearheaded a number of new projects during this time; this included collaborative work with not just Bixler-Zavala but also artists such as John Frusciante, Lydia Lunch, Le Butcherettes, and many more.
So, when The Mars Volta announced their breakup in September 2012, it didn't take long for more music to surface; just as they did in the wake of At the Drive-In's split, Omar and Cedric returned with yet another new band, Antemasque, in 2014. Though they only released one album as Antemasque, it was thrilling in its throwback vibes and, in a way, set fans up for the official reunion of At the Drive-In; their return was highly anticipated but the resultant album (2017's in•ter a•li•a) suffered from mixed reviews from critics and fans alike. Following the tour commitments for that album, At the Drive-In announced a second hiatus in November 2018. Things got suspiciously quiet for Omar and Cedric after this until 2021, when The Mars Volta's discography saw the reissue treatment alongside some cryptic messaging that gave fans hope that there was another long-rumoured reunion on the horizon.
Suffice to say, a lot has transpired in the decade since The Mars Volta last graced us with a new album; I haven't even mentioned the outside drama surrounding Bixler-Zavala's family and Scientology, which is almost as interesting as it is chilling (in the interest of time I won't recount all of that but, should you decide to investigate, echoes of these events do play a part in the lyrics for this new music). All of this leads us to what amounts to one of the most anticipated albums of the year; how would this group, renowned for the chaotic music they create, react to all of the chaos that's taken over their lives and the world at large in recent years?
The answer, as it turns out, is far less intriguing than the question; rather than attempting to reintroduce themselves in the way they're remembered, The Mars Volta's seventh album is instead an exercise in restraint. Gone are the wild stylistic twists and turns in favor of simple, pop-leaning structure. Gone are the staggering, sprawling jams of old in favor of tight, concise three minute songs. Gone are the unpredictable inertia and pure, unchecked creativity in favor of tasteful mid-tempo beats and smooth, subtle lite rock. This is, of course, all completely intentional, a calculated juxtaposition to subvert all assumption of what they should sound like.
It's a strong argument against presuming a band's identity on paper, and I can support the idea of going pop being just about the most punk rock thing you can do; to turn everything you established over a decade-long, six album run on its head and reappear on the other side of the spectrum takes serious stones, and I don't envy Omar and Cedric for any backlash they're feeling as a result of their creative decisions. To be clear, though, there is simply no way they could have created an album such as this without considering the divisiveness they were going to cause in their fan base; hell, they probably relish in it.
By times, they really do a bang-up job of reinventing themselves in a way that makes sense; lead track Blacklight Shine is hypnotically groovy and peppered with percussion, establishing their parallel universe while maintaining some of their left-of-centre charm. Graveyard Love follows with a pulsating rhythm and some pleasantly weird pitch manipulations, effectively dragging their gonzo prog into the future and more or less twisting pop to their whim rather than conforming to pop itself; ditto the quick and frenetic Que Dios Te Maldiga Mi Corazon, which calls back ever so slightly to past work (I caught a bit of an Octahedron vibe personally), although it's far too compact at just 101 seconds long. Then, there are the off-kilter sonic touches that creep to the forefront on tracks like Flash Burns from Flashbacks and, especially, No Case Gain; the latter features perhaps both Bixler-Zavala's most energized performance and the album's strongest hook. Likewise, Equus 3 allows its added dynamics and odd noises to prove the album's ambition to be sound in concept.
Vigil, the band's most surprising departure into pop as I thought of it as when hearing it as the final pre-release single, turns out to be much more than that. It's also the most effective indicator of the album's prevalent style; slow, sensual and melodic, its breezy delivery and tasteful rhythms sounded like a revelation as a single. In the context of the album, however, it's the best of a larger than necessary batch of ballads. Across the album's thirteen tracks, I count eight such songs, all plodding along at slow to medium tempos and invoking varying degrees of interest; some, such as the tender acoustic Tourmaline and the dynamic album closer The Requisition come close to achieving the same sweet spot as Vigil in a bubble but, for my money, they return to the slow jam well far too many times and, as a result, sap most of these otherwise unexpected gems of their specialness.
So, while it's being promoted as a willing, radical departure and an exercise in maturity, upon taking in the full album these arguments sort of ring hollow for me; again, I can see and even appreciate the sentiment behind it, but all the buzzwords and PR speak don't mean all that much when the end result is so lacking in excitement or, if we're being honest, any semblance of what made The Mars Volta so unique and revered. I'm no authority on how Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler-Zavala should treat their intellectual property, but all of this makes me wonder why they would choose to release these songs under the banner of The Mars Volta and not as a new group, considering they've already pivoted to new projects so successfully in the past; at the end of the day, an album of middle of the road ballads isn't so much what I struggle with as much as said album bearing The Mars Volta's name.
It's not like they're set up to welcome in legions of new fans with this album, at least not without soundtracking a sudden Tik Tok craze (and really, if that happens, I'll just tip my hat and shut my mouth about it); this leaves them with the core fan base, a good percentage of which became fans because The Mars Volta were the polar opposite of the three and a half minute radio single crowd that they're trying to run with here and, by extension, are less likely to remain fans if they continue down this path. If the reason for attributing this project to The Mars Volta and not a new, unique entity (as, I reiterate, they've been more than happy to do before) is marketability, I have to wonder why such supremely talented and famously against-the-grain artists would risk sullying a legacy for a temporary boost in sales and streams.
September 16, 2022 • Clouds Hill
Highlights Blacklight Shine • Vigil • No Case Gain
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