The Mars Volta - The Mars Volta (LP)

The Mars Volta used to be the band you recommended with a grin and a warning. Chaos, 12-minute epics, wild left turns. Which is why the self-titled comeback, released on 16 September 2022 through Clouds Hill, lands like a surprise conversation with an old mate who has learned to speak softly and mean it. The long break since 2012’s Noctourniquet clearly reset the compass. Omar Rodríguez-López produces with a cool hand, and Cedric Bixler-Zavala leans into melody, intimacy and clarity. The result is still unmistakably them, just trimmed to the bone and focused on feeling rather than frenzy.

The signposts arrived early. “Blacklight Shine” appeared first, trailed by that mysterious black cube installation in Los Angeles that looped its short film. The track glows with hand percussion and a sway that nods to Afro-Caribbean rhythms, a reminder of Omar’s long-running pull toward Latin forms. Instead of detonating into prog fireworks, it glides. Cedric’s voice sits upfront, warm and close, as if he’s finally letting you in on the private monologue that used to be tucked behind the vortex. It’s a stunning reintroduction because it refuses to shout.

“Graveyard Love” follows with sharp angles and synth-streaked menace, but again the band keeps it tight. The rhythm section locks into a clipped strut, and Omar’s guitar favours wiry lines over distortion. “Vigil” brings the album’s emotional centre into focus, a ballad in Mars Volta terms, powered by a patient pulse and a chorus that actually lingers in your head rather than just your chest. Across the record the songs are shorter, often three or four minutes, and that decision changes the whole effect. You stop waiting for the big explosion and start noticing the small choices, like the curl of a backing vocal, or a keyboard figure that whispers where it once would have wailed.

Plenty of critics picked up on that shift at the time. Reviews noted the band’s sidestep from labyrinthine prog into a leaner art-pop space, and you can hear why it struck nerves on both sides. Some diehards missed the whiplash turns. Others heard a band choosing to be present rather than pyrotechnic. I’m with the latter camp. The writing is confident enough to welcome air and space, which lets Cedric’s lyrics land with unusual directness. He has spoken in interviews about personal and familial themes, and you feel that in the tenderness threaded through these songs. It’s not mellow as much as it is clear-eyed.

Production-wise, The Mars Volta keeps its palette crisp. Tracked at Clouds Hill Studios in Hamburg and produced by Omar, the mix favours clean guitar tones, satin synths and percussion that often carries as much melodic weight as anything else. The way the congas and shakers feather into “Blacklight Shine,” or the tight drum and bass chassis in “Graveyard Love,” speaks to a group prioritising groove over grit. You can still hear the old reflexes in the chord choices and rhythmic feints, but the edges have been buffed into something more seductive.

An interesting side note arrived in 2023 with Que Dios Te Maldiga Mi Corazón, a full acoustic reimagining of the entire album. It wasn’t a gimmick so much as a statement that these songs live without electricity, which is a quiet flex for a band once known for electric overload. Spin them back to back and the continuity is striking. The bones are strong.

If you’re crate-digging, The Mars Volta vinyl pressing of this album is a smart way to hear the detail in this new era. The self-titled thrives on dynamics and headroom, so hearing it breathe on wax suits the mood. We get a lot of folks in our Melbourne record store asking where to start with the band, and lately I send them here, then backfill with the early burners. If you want to buy The Mars Volta records online, you’ll find plenty of options, from classic The Mars Volta albums on vinyl to this one. It is also a good shout for anyone browsing vinyl records Australia wide who wants to understand the band’s full arc in one satisfying listen.

It takes nerve for a group with their reputation to come back with restraint. That choice pays off. The Mars Volta is a late-career pivot that feels earned, a set of songs that prefer slow radiance to shock and awe. Put it on, let the first three tracks do their patient work, and you may find yourself rethinking what this band is for. The answer, at least here, is connection over combustion.