A melodic discovery from Mars

As the charts have already shown, the music-buying public for the last two years has impatiently anticipated the new Mars Volta record. The band picks up from where it left off with its first LP De-Loused in the Comatorium, continuing to move away from its punk roots of its predecessor At the Drive-In while simultaneously distinguishing itself as a unique mix of progressive rock, salsa and jazz.

With Led Zeppelin-esque vocals, psychedelic guitar riffs, a creative array of percussion and driving bass lines, Frances The Mute displays each band member's singular talent. In addition, the band recruited salsa legend Larry Harlow to create an authentic sound while remaining innovative in their musical direction.

This album is guitarist Omar Rodriguez Lopez's first attempt at production and his attention to the details of the process is noticeable. There are no gaps between tracks; instead, transitions are filled with something you could call ambient “noise.” The songs are lengthy—clocking in at anywhere from six to 32 minutes—but you hardly notice because you're so entranced by the assemblage of their rock opera. Basically, if you insist on three-minute songs, then this album's not for you.

Frances is the definition of a well-rounded release. With graphic lyrics in both Spanish and English, each song is given its own flavor. The second track, “The Widow,” has garnered mass appeal as a single without falling prey to the shallow pop song formula characteristic of the rest of the Top 40. Ultimately, the final song returns to the opening theme of the first, bringing some conclusiveness to the sprawling 32-minute track.

The album is not only a great musical achievement, it's also a conceptual masterpiece. And while concept albums usually get a bad rap, the vagueness of the lyrics conceal—intentionally or not—the message from the listener. The underlying narrative that inspired Frances was an anonymous diary found by late band member Jeremy Ward. Each song takes you along the musical journey of a man who's looking for his biological parents. The song titles are named after the people who helped the main character along the way to find his mother Frances. However, this is as much detail as the band is willing to reveal; the rest of the lyrics are left up to personal interpretation.

The lyrics are dark and desperate; here, you don't have to play the songs backwards to find a secret message. “Decrepit prowl she washed down the hatching / Gizzard soft as a mane of needles / His orifice icicles hemorrhaged / By combing her torso to a pile,” taunts singer Cedric Bixler-Zavala in “Cassandra Gemini.” It would be hard to find two people who agree as to what exactly all of that implies, but I guarantee it's probably deeper than any interpretation of what Britney Spears means by “not a girl, yet not quite a woman.”