In a strange twist of fate it seems that radio has killed the underground star. Contrary to The Buggle's paranoid premonition of old, The Mars Volta are rising from the ashes and there looks to be no stopping their experi-metal/Hispanic/prog-core from tripping on out there and infecting the minds of the masses. I once knew this mohawk-sporting deaf-mute punk rocker, who could throw down a damned tight set, but communicating with him was more than a challenge. I possessed neither the patience or the smarts to understand his lyrics or what he might have been trying to tell me during our chats. I just nodded along and coveted his Dead Kennedys denim jacket.

Thus, when I recently became acquainted with this newest Mute named Frances at the new-release section of the music store, I was faced with the self-same quandary. How am I supposed to write a cogent review of Mars Volta's newest opus when I have no idea what the hell they're singing about? I don't claim to be a rocket surgeon so I won't pretend to understand much of the virtually indecipherable lyrics on Mars Volta's second album - I had a hard enough time with At The Drive-In. Track three, "Facilis Descenus Averni" is a great Spanglish-style song laced with Latin beats, but when I consulted my Hispanic co-worker as to what these tunes were all about - he was just shook his head and grinned like Pedro in Napoleon Dynamite. He was just as stumped as myself.

I've been hearing the term "polyrhythms" a lot lately. Poly, which means "more than one," right? Just like polygamist means enjoying and/or suffering the company of more than one spouse,. A polynomial math problem also comes to mind. You might be able to rig up some type of polynomial equation to decipher the bizarre track listing on the back cover of Frances The Mute. Whatever the case may be, Mars Volta are using these inscrutable polyrhythms to explore the boundaries of what we laymen often refer to as jamming. And they are finding an audience of scientifically-attuned young polyrhythmic disciples and are re-inventing this polymorphous thing we know as popular music.

Some of these electronica-stylings compare to Cedric, O-Rod and Isaiah Ikey Owens' De Facto side project "Con Safo" and are even more magically delouse-cious. I was thinking (not my forte, by the way) that perhaps the "Safo" part could pertain to a unified communication system but I'm not sure. The CD version of "The Widow" (not the radio version) is ten times better and features a mysterious singer helping Cedric, someone whom I can't seem to pinpoint and it's driving me batshitty. Flea is back again, having another field day on the bass and even tooting his trumpet on a track or two.

The biggest change from Deloused is the song-structure - or lack thereof. These aren't songs in any formal sense of the word, so much as they are 10 minute statutes of liberty, which add up to about 77 minutes of blissful gnar-plexing madness.

The Mars Volta might be the busiest band in the industry with O-Rod's solo project, A Manual Dexterity, collaborating with Handsome Boy Modeling School, and touring with A Perfect Circle. The future is looking big and bright for this fraction of At The Drive In, quite unlike the remainder of the equation = Sparta.

For the ultimate experience with this album, roll up a Phillie, kick back, relax and just let Frances the Mule wash over you like a sonic tsunami. We're talking infra-mad visuals dawg. As Hella Enchanted as Cedric and O-Rod's sweaty afro mop-tops swirling around like
Saturn's rings. More than a mere album, Frances The Mute is an experience. As gay as I'm sure that must sound, it's true. If these guys keep up the good work with the ambition they've demonstrated up to this point, they could very well become the Pink Floyd of my generation.