People. Fuck the superficial plasticity of the cloned masses of overproduced commercial drivel that subliminally rots the mind as some fat-cat’s bank account ticks over to the next million. Go and see a Mars Volta show and find out what happens when rock music transcends the sensual boundaries of the physical realm and unlocks unmapped levels of human consciousness.
“Well if you guys can get your mother ship to connect with our mother ship, maybe we can lift the roof on this space ship” Was the call that came from Cedric Bixler-Zavala in a rare moment of conversation with the 4 floors of neuronauts who would later reflect on seeing an unequaled live show.
If improvised technical madness needed a physical and aural definition, it would be a Mars Volta live show. Imagine sharing in an atmosphere of distorted psychedelic jazz riffs running through an extra terrestrial selection of effects in sync with time signatures of odd numbers of eighths and quarters. Imagine taking a look around this technically pristine but chaotic atmosphere, in search of reality, but only seeing a thousand fellow souls pleasurably lost in the bedlam. This is the state that The Mars Volta induce in their audience. In the surroundings of the Metro City ‘spaceship’ they delivered a dose which would have had even the most tolerant of thrill chasers saying ‘whoa I was so fucked up!’Meandering on stage to the clarion call of a Mexican trumpet they delved straight into 12 minutes of uncharted territory; a massive 10 piece mother of a jam that the masses appeared totally perplexed by. Progressing effortlessly through to the next piece, the band treated the now disoriented crowd to some familiarity, with the sternum shattering pulse of Amputechture’s Viscera Eyes. Everything must be precise for a band of this calibre and so there was a slight intermission 45 minutes into the show, while they ironed out some esoteric sound issues. This didn’t matter. Mars Volta could have easily played two hours of improvised jamming and still have been worth an $80 ticket.
One must watch with no expectations, no yearning for particular tracks; instead, allow oneself to be completely immersed in whatever the band is feeling on the night. Most of the recognisable tracks came from this year’s head trip, Bedlam in Goliath, though all heavily embellished and unique to the moment in which they were played. Aberinkula included a sampling the sample from Ghostface Killah’s Kilo : ”All around the world today the kilo is a measure…” which received a cheer of approval from the crowd. Measures of Ilyena and Wax Simulacra also featured, but perhaps the evening peaked about 90 minutes into the show when the band paused to allow their frontman, who is beyond Robert Plant, to let out an epic cry which was the moment when the roof on the spaceship did actually lift.
Collectively the band is too much to comprehend visually, one is much wiser to observe each artist individually and be hypnotised in the process. Watching Bixler-Zavala deliver his macabre poetry is like watching a lava lamp, his body moving osmotically in the liquid periphery created by band-mates. Musical maestro and band genius Omar Rodriguez-Lopez, tremolo-picks his axe with unmatched precision, creating so much fury and entropy that one is left to stare and wonder how his diminutive frame manages to hold together against it. At one moment he stopped playing but a wah based riff was still confusingly prevailing, a look over to the organs solved this mystery. Sister so and so from the local church would have shouted blasphemy at this sight: a ‘wah pedal’ hooked up to the godly organ. Thomas Pridgen behind the skins, an imposing dreadlocked figure who appeared to have been chiseled out of African stone, played 2 hours of relentlessly abstract rolls and fills. Rodriguez-Lopez conducted him in at the show’s commencement and his modest 6 piece kit became the most abstruse and aesthetically brilliant metronome Metro City had ever seen. One had to constantly double check that Pridgen wasn’t actually playing on a Danny Carey-esque extravaganza. The complexity of sound he was creating absolutely defied the transparent set of DW’s he was bludgeoning with insanity. But this is a 24 year old who was sponsored by Zildian at the tender age of 10?
The band ended without an encore. What use would an encore have been?
Whether or not the band was feeling it on the night is impossible for the mere mortal to tell. With such awe-inspiring musicianship they could have had an off night and no one except themselves would have known. It can safely be said that no one has seen The Mars Volta at the Big Day Out, the Mars Volta can only be truly seen and felt when caught on their time.
Sydney, Brisbane, Melbourne and Auckland prepare for take off. Although, perhaps Gudinski should remain clear for a while, since Adelaide will unfortunately have to remain in the tangible parts of the world.
See Jerrem’s photos HERE
jodesandjust
said ages ago