THE MARS VOLTA
The Mars Volta CLOUDS HILL
EMBRACING BREVITY DOESN’T RESULT IN A LACK OF GUTSY DYNAMICS.
A powerful, poignant return for prog shape-shifters.
Oh dear. Some fans will definitely be unhappy at the way the first new album in 10 years by guitarist Omar Rodríguez-López and singer/lyricist Cedric BixlerZavala has turned out. It’s a near certainty that because the duo have had the temerity to follow their muse without asking fans’ permission first, toys will be thrown out of the pram with cries of, “But it’s not prog!” There’s a depressing inevitability to this response as Tony Banks, Mikael Åkerfeldt, Steven Wilson and others will happily confirm.
It’s true that The Mars Volta is a shift in sound and feel, a tangible change in the way they’ve done things in the past. The approach here stands in definite contrast to the disorienting fever dreams and pervasive hallucinatory sonics that defines their frenetically eclectic output from their 2003 debut, De-Loused In The Comatorium all the way to Noctourniquet, their last album before splitting up in
2012. But rather than it somehow representing a betrayal, open-minded listeners should hear and enjoy a different perspective from a team that remain fervently inventive.
The jagged, lung-puncturing staccato attacks may have been dialled down, but on the tumbling beats of Blank Condolences, the sputtering disintegration of Vigil, or Qué Dios Te Maldiga Mí Corazon’s schizoid Latin-infused about-turns, there’s that same unrelenting force and purpose. It turns out that embracing brevity and concision doesn’t result in any lack of punchy, gutsy dynamics or stirring hyper-driven vocals. If anything, the unerring focus means that everything comes with a kind of short, sharp shock. The rough-hewn beats and serrated guitars slicing through The Requisition, the pulsating insistence of Flash Burns From Flashbacks or
No Case Gain’s claustrophobic tunnel vision are all instantly recognisable as authentic Volta. As lyrics dealing with highly personal subjects such as family trauma endured within the Church of Scientology, Bixler-Zavala’s yearning, soulful vocals navigate some uncomfortable issues with both nuance and passion.
Shaped and moulded by experience, these songs chronicle the outcomes of personal journeys that haven’t always been easy. Given all of this, it’s unsurprising that the resulting music explores an emotional space that has necessarily moved on from where they were when it fell apart a decade ago. Is this album different from what’s gone before? Yes.
Is it somehow inherently inferior to that previous body of work? Of course not. Anyone who thinks The Mars Volta might be the sound of a band coasting or in some way resting on their laurels should think again.