The Stout Republican

I was listening to this CD and shaking my head as I took the long drive to visit the in-laws, the dogs in the back seat, the air conditioning on, enjoying the four door goodness of the Honda…and you know what, my soul be damned for what I am about to say, I was relived when the wife said, “I can’t take it any more, put in Justin’s new CD.” You don’t know the shame that I felt, but even after the fourth listen, I’m trying to like it…I really am, but it takes painful effort for me to sit through the whole thing front to back.

I am a fan of the Mars Volta, and I’m probably going to alienate everyone in the Rolling Stone crowd who just hangs on the sack of this band…but I’m a bit lost here. As a rock band, the Mars Volta has become that wonder group that can do no wrong. They’ve become that band that rock snobs sit around in circles talking about while wearing their $200 sweaters made to look like they’ve been picked up at the local thrift store, and if you doubt their rock god-hood (much like disagreeing with the same group politically) you just “don’t get it”. Well you know what, I get it, I just don’t like it.

Amputechture by The Mars Volta comes so close to being a good album, but somehow the band has moved towards this, and I’m making an assumption here, Ego driven heady rock that does nothing more than showcase their talent, of which they have a multitude…Omar is a fantastic guitarist, probably one of the best out there today. I saw them play live when they were supporting their Frances the Mute album while on tour with the Pixies, and there is no doubt that the talent is there…but the actual song writing just takes a dive the more “heady” the music gets.

Tracks like Tetragrammaton go on for 16 minutes with a series of bleeps and bloops that feel like I’m just part of some consumer test group.

The Mars Volta: I can guarantee our album will sell, I mean look at our fan base.

The Label: Are you sure? That last album kinda wandered at times.

The Mars Volta: No, that’s the fantastic part…like modern art, we could crap on this canvas of digital audio, and they’ll still love it.

Usually at this point I would break down my review track by track, but even the tracks themselves…well…have tracks. The guitar work is great, and the drums and rhythms are unequaled, but…but…it just never comes together. And while the indie rock crowd fawns in their jeans so tight that their junk can’t be contained comfortably, I just cringe:

“We’ll cover the smell with silver nitrate, mending the cuts of your prosthetic faith”

I can make up nonsensical lyrics too…see:

“This abysmal willing dissonance, a lack of cerebral coherence.”

They are talented guys, that Omar and Cedric (hair aside), but they need to step out of the bubble. This album does have a solid 25 minutes, but to wade through an hour and fifteen minutes to get at it? Well…do so at your own risk…and if you don’t like it, keep it to yourself…the rock snobs are watching.

Music