2008 Woodie Awards
What hell sounds like
Amputechture's songs are too lengthy, disjointed, noisy, and
Joe McCormack '07
Issue date: 9/28/06 Section: Arts & Entertainment
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The Mars Volta
Amputechture
Umvd Labels
It's either hit or miss when you're as ambitious as The Mars Volta. Even though the group has the dynamic and prolific tandem of guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala; Jon Theodore, who is arguably the best drummer in modern rock; and stellar musicians manning the other battle stations, their latest album, Amputechture, fails to turn their ambitions into a cohesive whole.
There is a half an hour of great music on this disc; unfortunately, the CD spins for 78 frustrating minutes. The band accomplishes this by making a four-minute song last eight minutes, a six-minute song last 13, and a 17-minute song last a fortnight. Amputechture will infuriate you for stealing minutes of your life by the fistful.
When the album is good, it combines the punk attitude of Fugazi, the soundscapes of Pink Floyd, and the virtuosity of Rush with the soul Latin rhythm. Amputechture breathes fire at times.
The trio of songs that saves the album comes in its second half. "Day of the Baphomets" begins with a nasty bass solo and explodes into a Latin-punk groove featuring manic horns and urgent, madman vocals. For the first five minutes, "Baphomets" sounds like a man come back from the dead to tell you what Hell is like. "Viscera Eyes" showcases Jon Theodore's subtlety behind the drums, infusing a simple groove with just the right amount of brick-wall backbeat and snare drum frenetics to hold the chaotic funk together.
The disc's standout track is clearly "Asilos Magdalena," a Spanish-language acoustic gem. In most The Mars Volta songs, the dynamic interplay of Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez is characterized by disparate melodies and abrasive tones struggling to coexist. Here they move as one unit. Bixler-Zavala's lyrics, usually less sensible than The Jabberwocky (literally), weave themselves into the fabric of the song seamlessly. The elegance of the chorus bores a hole in the listener's soul and resides there: "En mi vida/el oscuro me matiene. . .en la lluvia me prometiste tu sangre" Bixler-Zavala's passionate, brittle waver and Rodriguez-Lopez's sparse guitar talk to each other in a way that the full band fails to achieve for most of the album.
Amputechture
Umvd Labels
It's either hit or miss when you're as ambitious as The Mars Volta. Even though the group has the dynamic and prolific tandem of guitarist Omar Rodriguez-Lopez and singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala; Jon Theodore, who is arguably the best drummer in modern rock; and stellar musicians manning the other battle stations, their latest album, Amputechture, fails to turn their ambitions into a cohesive whole.
There is a half an hour of great music on this disc; unfortunately, the CD spins for 78 frustrating minutes. The band accomplishes this by making a four-minute song last eight minutes, a six-minute song last 13, and a 17-minute song last a fortnight. Amputechture will infuriate you for stealing minutes of your life by the fistful.
When the album is good, it combines the punk attitude of Fugazi, the soundscapes of Pink Floyd, and the virtuosity of Rush with the soul Latin rhythm. Amputechture breathes fire at times.
The trio of songs that saves the album comes in its second half. "Day of the Baphomets" begins with a nasty bass solo and explodes into a Latin-punk groove featuring manic horns and urgent, madman vocals. For the first five minutes, "Baphomets" sounds like a man come back from the dead to tell you what Hell is like. "Viscera Eyes" showcases Jon Theodore's subtlety behind the drums, infusing a simple groove with just the right amount of brick-wall backbeat and snare drum frenetics to hold the chaotic funk together.
The disc's standout track is clearly "Asilos Magdalena," a Spanish-language acoustic gem. In most The Mars Volta songs, the dynamic interplay of Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez is characterized by disparate melodies and abrasive tones struggling to coexist. Here they move as one unit. Bixler-Zavala's lyrics, usually less sensible than The Jabberwocky (literally), weave themselves into the fabric of the song seamlessly. The elegance of the chorus bores a hole in the listener's soul and resides there: "En mi vida/el oscuro me matiene. . .en la lluvia me prometiste tu sangre" Bixler-Zavala's passionate, brittle waver and Rodriguez-Lopez's sparse guitar talk to each other in a way that the full band fails to achieve for most of the album.