Review Summary: Make no mistake; this album is great, but it’s not perfect by any means, and it’s certainly not for everyone.
Prog rock is one of those genres that you either love or hate. Those who love it sing praises of its insightfulness and depth, of its boldness to venture into the untested waters of musical experimentation. Those on the other side of the fence counter those assertions with accusations of shameless self-indulgence and pseudo-intellectuality. Often, debates centering on bands like The Mars Volta degenerate into a collision between these two opposing schools of thought.
Ironically enough, there’s a good bit of merit to be garnered from both sides of the issue. There’s a balance to be struck between making your music and making music your audience will be able to appreciate. The mark of a truly talented songwriter is the ability to balance both goals, to make music universal enough to be accessible without filtering your expression. There’s a fine line separating those albums that achieve that balance and those that don’t. De-Loused In The Comatorium straddles that line.
Make no mistake; this album is great, but it’s not perfect by any means, and it’s certainly not for everyone. If you’re not willing to sit down and focus on every aspect of the music and analyze the themes and motifs, you will not come close to realizing its full measure. This is one of those records that grows in stature under intense scrutiny, and if that’s not something you’re willing to devote to it, you may as well listen to something a bit less avant-garde.
Like most albums of its genre, De-Loused In The Comatorium is a concept album, hinging on the self-inflicted demise of one of the band’s close friends, Julio Vinegas. Long story short, Vinegas decides to end his life and injects rat poison. He slips into a coma and gestates for several days. He emerges from the coma and demonstrates some serious perseverance, opting for the more reliable approach of jumping off of a bridge into a crowded road. This time, things go according to plan, and he succeeds in killing himself.
De-Loused In The Comatorium both begins and ends with Vinegas’ attempts at suicide, but the meat of the concept is buried in the limbo of his unconsciousness. In this hypothetical narrative, Vinegas’ first attempt on his own life plunges him into an internal landscape referred to as the Comatorium; a place rooted so deeply in the subconscious that only near-fatal trauma can pull it out of the periphery. Within this fabricated arena, his impulses, both good and detrimental, take on corporeal forms and clash for superiority.
The album’s strength lies in its ability to convey emotion. The songs are not written as clear narrative; rather, they represent scattered snapshots of a fractured mind state. Each song has a clear theme and tone, from the shuddering self-hate that resonates from Son Et Lumiere to the cynicism and resignation espoused by Cicatriz ESP. The concept of the album provides the framework for its philosophy, and its ambiguity leaves space to fill in the details with whatever the music inspires.
The music itself is impressive in its complexity, filled with polyrhythms and strategic chord progressions from start to finish. Each composition is heavily layered with embellishments and effects; guitarist Omar Rodriguez Lopez uses what is quite possibly the widest and most eclectic variety of pedals to warp the sound of his guitar into ambient noise. Each instrument is immaculately fit to complement its role in the phrase, be it melody, harmony, or rhythm.
However, one of the album’s few flaws lies in the precise complexity. Sometimes, there’s just too much going on it once, and it muddles the intensity of the song. At times, Bixler-Zavala’s voice is heavily overdubbed and strays into melodrama and whininess. Rodriguez-Lopez’s playing, characterized by tritones and heavy distortion, is often overpowering, and the ambient interludes, though they can be compelling, tend to degenerate into self-indulgent waffling.
Despite the occasional musical misstep on their parts, the strength of the rhythm section is the band’s saving grace. Jon Theodore is confident and innovative on the throne, mixing odd time signatures and syncopated beats with Haitian and Latin influences. Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers opted to record the bass, and his funky, driving riffs add an interesting dynamic to the already unique, progressive sound Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez bring to the table. Keyboardist Ikey Owens occasionally emerges from the whirlwind of sound with a well-placed piano lick. Their subtlety and musicality keeps the album afloat in weaker sections and propels it to new heights in the moments where concept and composition coalesce into something a little more than music.
With De-Loused In The Comatorium, The Mars Volta has released an intriguing and intricate work of art, pushing the boundaries of what we consider music. It is by no means an easy album to listen to; it does nothing to accommodate those whose musical tastes lean towards the more conventional. But it has the unique, chameleon-esque characteristic of shifting with your expectations for it. If you’re willing to commit the time to analyzing it and appreciating it for what it is rather than debunking it for what it falls short of, you’ll find a stunning, emotionally potent powerhouse of an album. Give it that chance, and I assure you that you won’t walk away from it empty-handed.
