FRANCES THE MUTE

With the dissolution of post-hardcore grandmasters At-The-Drive-In in late 2001 two bands emerged from the wreckage. Sparta formed from the rhythm section and continued to plough the same furrow their previous band had so successfully reaped. Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and Cedric Bixler, the principal guitarist and vocalist respectively formed The Mars Volta and set out to experiment. Their first album De-loused in the Comatorium (2003) represented a landmark for many purveyors of prog-rock. It drew influence from where bands like Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd had left off, combining technical mastery with progressive thinking and great hooks. Two years later The Mars Volta released their follow up, Frances the Mute. The question on most fans lips is surely can it be any better than Deloused.?

At this point I will hold my hands up and admit that I was never Deloused's biggest fan. I liked it a lot but by no means thought it was as flawless as some of my friends did. In fact the much lauded production qualities I thought left the album sounding rather murky in places and I frequently found myself skipping through certain tracks which seemed to drag.

But still I rushed off wide-eyed and bushy tailed like an overly excitable child to my record store the day this album came out. The guy at HMV who served me, laughed and shook his head. 'It's mental,' he simply said, 'we didn't know whether to put it in the metal section or the jazz.' This album is many things, and boring is certainly not one of them. In essence this album breaks down into five tracks, all of which are suitably long and packed full of enough musical twists and turns to keep all but the most intent of music analysts scratching their head in confusion. But after a few listens the album opens up and suddenly you realise that you are sporting the same kind of stupid adolescent grin you wore when you first fell hopelessly in love. If you don't like progressive music then stop reading now because this album is most certainly not for you.

According to the band the album is based on a diary found by late friend and producer of Deloused In The Comatorium, Jeremy Ward. In it lay an account of a man searching America for his biological mother. Cygnus.Vismund Cygnus tells the story of the principal character of Frances The Mute, the child of the aforementioned Frances. Musically this is superb. It starts in much the same way as Deloused. began, beautifully quiet and aching. And there the similarity ends. Where Inertiatic ESP proceeded into accomplished stop-start jerky prog, Cygnus quite simply explodes into a wall of relentless frenetic urgency. Cedric sings in Spanish and the translation sets the tone for the album - 'Child prepare yourself. You are going to suffer.' This is epic stuff. With no obvious verse or chorus the song just seems to pound higher and harder before climaxing somewhere past the ten minute mark. It's a great opening track and it's probably the most technically accomplished song on the album and thus sets the tone. A proper rollercoaster of a song it's loud and it's funky and its fantastic.

Over a period of interesting instrumental noodling/pointlessly self-indulgent noise (delete as appropriate) Cygnus eventually morphs into the most commercial and probably weakest song on the album. Musically The Widow wouldn't have sounded out of place on Deloused. and this is where my problem lies. It's catchy enough but it doesn't take off and soar to quite the same heights as the other tracks on this album do. For all that it's by no means bad and certainly acts as a well needed quieter moment sandwiched between Cygnus and the next track L'via L'viaquez. Its just not a buffer that fits in perfectly with the otherwise superbly crafted continuity.

L'via L'viaquez is quite simply an onslaught and stands out as perhaps the best song this band have recorded to date and that pretty much makes it one of the best things out there. Forget the diluted single edit occasionally doing the rounds on MTV and the Internet. This is pure musical ecstasy. The Red Hot Chilli Pepper's resident musical genius John Frusciante guests to kick off with exactly the kind of fabulously self- indulgent sounding piece of guitar foreplay that I usually despise. And yet as an intro to this song it is inspired. The drums are pounding, the guitar work is breathtaking and it's all wrapped up in Spanish lyrics about.well who knows? Iin a different language its even more difficult to work out quite what goes on inside lyricist Cedric Bixler's head. Quite simply this sounds like rock and roll would sound if it was imported from another dimension.

For an album to be great it needs to be correctly paced and it is this aspect of the album that makes it so special. At first it seems the much maligned musical meandering in between tracks (particularly before next track Miranda That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore) is pointlessly self-indulgent. But after a few listens these become absolutely essential. The build up to Miranda makes one of the most heart-felt drop dead gorgeous songs ever recorded even more tearful and tender. This is dripping with atmosphere and gushing with gorgeous background guitar but it's the vocal work that truly makes it stand out. The tenderness with which Cedric sings and the lyrics he chooses suit the musical accompaniment perfectly. Then it builds to just the right amount.and fades away again into the void where it came from like what you've just heard never really happened. It's almost like an afterthought in the middle of the album and it works perfectly.

If Miranda is the eye of the storm then Cassandra Geminni is very much the ensuing hurricane. At over thirty minutes long this song bursts into life in much the same frenzied way the opener does. For the first five minutes this is almost a showcase of Omar's guitar work and Cedric's voice which hits heights it has never reached before. The vocals swoop and soar triumphantly declaring, 'I've sworn to kill every last one,' over an excellent spazz fuelled guitar riff. Musically it emerges into a well camouflaged verse, bridge, chorus structure before trailing off into a twenty minute semi-improvised jaunt that takes in jazz fuelled saxophone solos and lyrics about, among other things, placenta eating owls and a number of snakes pouring out of eye sockets. Eventually it swings back into a final climatic chorus. Very impressive and ambitious stuff even if a twenty minute improvisation perhaps treads dangerously close to the border of taking it all a little too far.

Make no mistake this album is designed to be listened to in one sitting as a piece of music, not put on the car stereo for ten minutes as part of the weekly shopping run. Strip out all the spacey twinkling, put it on shuffle and it's a collection of five very good songs that gets 4 stars. With the possible exception of The Widow, the pacing is superb, each peak is engineered to come at just the right point and each quiet moment feels lovingly crafted and perfectly placed. With anything experimental in music it is easy to fall into the pitfall of sacrificing song for the sake of artistic noodling. While this album treads dangerously close to the line at times it manages to always stay firmly on the right side of it. If their next album shows a similar progression then it will be truly special indeed.