Outside it’s a sticky Sunday night, but the real heat is coming from the anticipation inside Troxy. Within the hallowed walls of the renovated 1930s cinema, its pastel lit art deco windows creating an elegance at odds with the slightly mushy carpet, there’s a palpable buzz for the return of The Mars Volta. There’s been good reason to think they’d never be back to these shores: a lengthy hiatus, high-profile lineup changes, and countless side projects . Tonight is their first London show in eleven years.
What emerges onstage, however, is not a band immediately recognisable as the Mars Volta, to the confusion of many (and the delight of some). This version appears to have metamorphosed beyond the ‘rock band’ label. Or the need for song structure, or fans comprehending what’s happening onstage. This is not a show for the casual concert-goers looking for a good time from a band they remember from a few years back. You have to fully buy into their new and expanded brand of latino prog noodling, to take whichever pill sends you down the rabbit hole of sweeping soundscapes that constitutes The Mars Volta live in 2023.
For half the crowd, it’s a show to lose themselves in. There’s magic in the way the band pull us in with each labyrinthine twist and turn of melody. Hammond Organ-filled circus chaos one moment; slow guitar grooves the next. They pull out of their own songs, taking diversions down experimental, impromptu paths into other worlds. It’s astounding how we’re strung along with a single note, manipulated like puppets in what sounds like a jam session between new age shamans, each one expounding a slightly different philosophy.
But if you start to question what the Mars Volta are doing, even for a second, the illusion shatters and the wizard behind the curtain is revealed as ‘a couple of shy stoners’ from Texas. Not every song needs a three minute bass breakdown after the opening chords or a long ambient interlude between choruses. Yes, extending your tracks to bring the audience into your vision is a great idea, but with only twelve songs covered in a two hour set that’s a lot of time that could be spent, y’know, being a rock band.
When they begin a recognisable song, there is an instant and tangible energy boost, fists and voices are raised…and then the focus dissipates in favour of more experimental electronic randomness. This tactic of creating anticlimaxes leaves a hunger that remains unsatisfied. No song really reaches a crescendo: it becomes a cycle of build up, then a cello solo, then build up, then improvised instrumental and so on with no chest expanding, hands in the air moment of catharsis.
Around ninety minutes into the show, the crowd begins a slow exodus. This may well be a comment on the efficiency of the DLR on a Sunday, or the oppressive tropical humidity of the venue, but based on the prevalence of those checking their emails during the show it seems clear that those who are not fully inducted members of the Mars Volta cult have been alienated by the band’s choices.
However, leaving early would be a huge error. For the final twenty minutes or so, the Mars Volta are the great prog innovators that we’d always known inside that they could be. The stark lighting and dramatic under-embellishment of ‘The Widow’ gives a desert tour demo edge to the potential sappiness of the studio version.
Lonely piano adds an extra emotional depth and the emphasis on the desperado trumpet sounding the last call at the edges of their musical micro universe makes it so much more of a tender song. If we’re being blunt, the fact that is follows a recognisable structure and keeps to the point is partly what gives it such a hugely warm reception.
Of course, ‘Inertiatic ESP’ is the perfect note to finish on, and the screeching, churning masterpiece which catapulted the Mars Volta into the public eye has lost none of its power in the intervening years. We shift, we start a pit, we hold up our hands so that the guru Cedric Bixler-Zavala might wail his blessings down upon us. It’s a wonderful feeling to cling to as we empty into the foyer, but the question lingers: where was this band for the first two hours of the show?
The Mars Volta seem to have transcended genre in their reincarnated form. It’s come at the expense of things like ‘distinct songs’ and ‘making music everyone listening to can enjoy’. They’ve drifted beyond this plane of existence, taking only a few of their devotees with them. And while their commitment to this musical journey can’t be faulted, those of us remaining tethered to the mortal realm can only stand and wonder in confusion about what they might have left behind.
Kate Allvey