The Mars Volta - Octahedron (2LP)

Octahedron arrived in June 2009 with a reputation that felt almost cheeky for The Mars Volta. They called it their version of an acoustic record, which is true only in spirit. It is quieter and more spacious than the hurricane that came before it, but there is still plenty of voltage humming beneath the skin. Produced by Omar Rodríguez-López, the album sets Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s voice front and centre and lets the songs breathe. You can hear the room around the instruments, the hush between drum hits, the way a guitar figure shivers before the rhythm section locks in.

Eight songs, no bloat. Since We’ve Been Wrong opens like a late night confession, Cedric drawing out syllables over slow-motion guitar chords while Thomas Pridgen’s drums creep in with brushes and then bloom into tom rolls. It is one of their most naked ballads, and it lands because the band holds back. Teflon brings the first proper shiver of tension, a slinky rhythm undercut by uneasy harmonies and Juan Alderete’s patient bass. Halo of Nembutals floats along on keyboard haze from Isaiah Ikey Owens, its melody circling like a bird that refuses to land. With Twilight as My Guide is the heart of the record for me, a desert folk hymn tinged with dread. The arrangement is spare, the storytelling vivid, and you can feel the band resisting their usual impulse to pile on. When it finally rises, it does so like a mirage becoming solid.

Of course they still punch. Cotopaxi snaps you awake with a jag of guitar, quick-footed drums and a vocal that clenches its fist. It was pushed as a single for good reason, proof that even on a “quieter” Mars Volta album the band can still ignite a room. Desperate Graves and Copernicus keep the spell going, the former riding a propulsive groove, the latter almost weightless. Then Luciforms closes the circle with a long fuse and a proper blowout, a reminder that restraint here is a choice, not a limitation.

Lineup-wise, it is a focused iteration of the group. Rodríguez-López steers the production, Bixler-Zavala sings with unusual clarity, Alderete and Pridgen deliver a rhythm section that can whisper and snap, and Marcel Rodríguez-López and Ikey Owens paint in keys and percussion. You can hear the difference compared with the horn-laced chaos of earlier records. The absence of woodwinds and extra guitar layers leaves more air, and the songs make the most of it.

Reception at the time was split, and that tracks. Fans who came in on the sprawling prog of Frances the Mute or the intensity of The Bedlam in Goliath initially missed the whiplash turns and endless codas. Others welcomed the shift. With distance, Octahedron feels like a necessary swerve, a reset that broadened what The Mars Volta could be without losing their identity. The melodies stick, the lyrics linger, and the tension in the quieter passages often hits harder than a stack of amps.

If you collect The Mars Volta vinyl, Octahedron is a smart grab. The dynamic range is the point here, and on wax the quiet passages bloom, cymbals sit naturally, and Cedric’s vocal sits in the room with you. It pairs nicely with the sharper edges of Amputechture or Bedlam if you are building out The Mars Volta albums on vinyl and want contrast on the shelf. If you stumble across Octahedron vinyl in a Melbourne record store, give it a spin at the listening station before you decide. The A-side arc alone makes the case. And if the local shop is out, you can always buy The Mars Volta records online through reputable spots that ship fast across the country, a handy option for anyone hunting down vinyl records Australia wide.

Octahedron is not a compromise. It is a band famed for maximalism choosing patience and precision, then sticking the landing. I still go back for the way Since We’ve Been Wrong unfurls, for the desert hush of With Twilight as My Guide, and for the surge that rips open Luciforms. It is the album where The Mars Volta set a candle on the table and let the room go quiet, which turned out to be one of their boldest moves.