MARS VOLTA - Frances The Mute

The Mars Volta project was born four years ago now out of the guitarist (Omar Rodriguez Lopez) and singer (Cedric Bixler) of At the Drive-In.

Their full-length debut came in 2003, under the name "De-Loused In The Comatorium".

The album is a blend of hardcore and progressive soaked in psychedelia, a product of the emo generation made for the emo generation's consumption. The project, ambitious and enjoyable despite a few flaws, received (rather excessive) praise from critics and audiences alike.

So it happened that for the new "Frances the Mute", expectations and ambitions grew in equal measure.

The result is three suites ranging from ten to fifteen minutes, a six-minute single and a piece de resistance of over half an hour.

The sprawling tendencies that already plagued the previous album are here taken to triumphant extremes, melody tends to be buried and the guiding direction shifts further towards the instrumental side. The progressive element takes centre stage, and on top of that the sound is stuffed with assorted noises (an indie production, a deliberate choice, but one that ends up hurting more than helping).

In short, the duo decides to take a risk that's far more than just a risk.

Mars Volta would like to sound like a new-age King Crimson, but in reality their quality bar is closer to Muse.

The lack of genius that emerged from the grooves of "De-Loused in the Comatorium" had found solid anchoring in the genuineness of the project (however ambitious it was) and in equally genuine melodies, whereas on "Frances the Mute" the band's good ideas are drowned in a sea of nothing (translation: the record is the classic case of biting off far, far more than it can chew).

The opening suite "Cygnus…Vismund Cygnus" is built on a funk guitar, but only draws real attention when it stretches out into a hazy, expansive psychedelia at its core, an effect that evaporates as it winds down into a few unbearable, unexplainable minutes of noisy coda (we mention this element now, but the same goes for every track).

"The Widow", the single, is a melody that wants to sound epic, but ultimately isn't worth bothering with.

"L'Via L'Vasquez", sung in Spanish, alternates hardcore urges with a (paltry) sketch of Latin sonorities, and only really works in the finale, when that sketch is finally developed and reworked with piano and electric guitar.

This time the coda, which actually shifts to the start of "Miranda", even finds its purpose, sketching gothic shades and opening up into dark horns. Unfortunately, the track's cheap melody puts it on par with "The Widow".

So we arrive at "Cassandra Gemini" (split into eight parts), which, given its length, has every right to be crowned the final knockout blow — and instead turns out to be the album's best track (despite plenty of dead air, exemplified by a long string of guitar wanking before the grand finale).

The melody (which opens and closes the track) is finally spot-on, the hardcore surges bite frequently, and several instrumental passages are remarkable (the best comes around the ten-minute mark, with guitars mimicking horns).

Qualcosa da salvare in "Frances the Mute", dunque, c'è, ma è giusto qualcosa.

A serious rethink of the band's real potential is in order, to avoid sliding into disappointing records like this one again — bearing in mind, however, that the qualities Mars Volta have shown so far (even at their best) are anything but exceptional.

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30/04/2026