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The Mars Volta De-loused In The Comatorium Universal

      These are sounds that you must hear to believe. Explaining every detail and device would be an attempt at pure futility as I, after many listens, am still trying to put all of the pieces together. The balance of drum pounding, guitar thrashing and moody, spooky ambience is worked to a level of atmospheric bliss as Cedric Zavala’s (At The Drive In) voice lifts, drops, screams, and swoons to match the scene built around him. Joining Zavala is former ATDI bandmate Omar Rodriguez-Lopez (who wrote the story that these songs have been born from) on guitar, John Theodore (Golden) on drums, Flea (RHCP) on bass, and Isaiah Owens (Long Beach Dub Allstars) on keys. Jeremy Ward (De Facto), now unfortunately passed, was the band's final member, hidden off-stage amidst a sea of effects generators and sampling gadgetry.

      Produced by the massively impressive Rick Rubin, DITC brings a ton of different colors to the table. Somewhere in this mix, an acoustic guitar actually fits perfectly, adding sentiment to emotion (See: “Televators”). The drums are heavy, the guitars are always on top and deep down inside there is an eery ambience that climbs and builds on top of itself before laying the ground that Zavala's indelible voice pours over. Among these layers is a world of sounds that reveal themselves more so with each listen and some of the individual efforts, especially those of Rodriguez-Lopez are worth several rewinds.

      The lyrics on this album could easily be labeled "dark", but considering the subject matter, I find them strikingly appropriate and superbly written. The couplings of words here pull you in and once you actually figure out what is being said, they become even more engulfing. I am trying to draw comparisons here to another concept album that has embodied its "theme" or "story" in the way that De-Loused In The Comatorium is able to. A chamber is created and within it this music and these moods are accompanied by such telling interpertable lyrics. What better way to set the stage for an unconscious battle between inner demon and inner angel than the opening track, "Son Et Lumiere":

"Clipside of the pinkeye flight

I'm not the percent you think survives

I need sanctuary in the pages of this book

Gestating with all the other rats

Nurse said that my skin will need a graft

I am of pockmarked shapes

The vermin you need to loathe"

It's no surprise that the evils and ills win out in the end, as most of the lyrical content has its leanings towards the eventual victor. Anyone can write evil and spooky lyrics, but this is something entirely different. This is the poetry of nightmares:

"...Caveat emptor to all that enter here

Open wrist talks back again

In the wounds of its skin

They'll pinprick the witness

In ritual contrition

The am trinity fell upon asphyxia-derailed

In the rattles of...

Made its way through the tracks

Of a snail slouching whisper

A half mass commute through umbilical blisters

Spector will lurk

Radar has gathered

Midnight neuces from boxcar cadavers..."

-Roulette Dares (The Haunt Of)

Hope, when it does arise briefly, is begged for and as we hear in "This Apparatus Must Be Unearthed" shares the urgency of desperation just as much as a prayer on Sunday:

"...I just hope that it's not too late

I've seen you at night

Biting the frost of silence

Can you cure us of this fate?

Mock the litany in its face?

Is that you Moatilliatta?

I've been waiting for so long

For someone to

Mend all the blame

I've been searching for so long

For something to

Anonymous

Avenge my name

Anonymous

Avenge my name..."

Moatilliatta's discouraging response is found only in the liner notes alongside of quotes from several of this story’s other characters.

      Everything about this record from packaging to arrangement to written word implies itself as being equally important to the telling of the story. The pictures and artwork on the cover beg to be interpreted as much as the lyrics and music. All in all, this is hard hitting psychedelia at its spine chilling best. Whether Frances The Mute, The Mars Volta’s next full length, will carry on the tradition of story or their spin on rock music (or both hopefully) is yet to be revealed. Whatever the case may be, you’d be wise to tune in.

-Joel Armato 09/22/04