The signature riffs of the archetypical Mars Volta epic, have a tendency to subdivide time into jagged, angular chunks and phrases which, after being executed with laser-guided precision for three or so repetitions, start to sound not unlike a giant robot dancing. This is not to say that the resultant sound is displeasing; rather, the band has achieved a surprising amount of mainstream success by somehow reconciling the myriad differences between the bombast of 70s psychadelic prog and the urgency of late 90s post-hardcore.

The best moments of their full-length debut, De-Loused In The Comatorium, realized a perfect balance between those two conflicting schools. The songs had enough depth and complexity to warrant repeat listenings, while still managing to steer clear of 12-minute keyboard solos. The band’s second album, Frances The Mute, suffered from a greater dose of self-indulgence – there were half as many songs, which meant the ambient noise interludes were twice as long. There were plenty of memorable moments, but it was questionable if the time spent waiting for them was worth it.

This brings us to their latest effort, Amputechture. While their trademark sound remains mostly intact, it’s still evident early on that something is missing. Jon Theodore’s gymnastic drumming is a less integral part to the songs themselves, instead relegated mostly to superfluous fills (in fact, there are no drums at all in three of the eight songs here). Likewise, the upper extremities of Cedric Bixler-Zavala’s soaring falsetto, are reserved for occasional harmonies and octave doubling, instead of taking the main stage where they belong. Still, there’s no doubting the band’s ability to rock; one just can’t help wishing they had restrained themselves a little less.

This time around, they’ve contained the unnecessary solos and lengthy segues more than on their previous offering, but they still need to learn to edit a bit more. Cutting the first and last songs for instance, would still leave Amputechture with a solid hour of quality material. The most memorable moments are still worth the price of admission, though: the magnificent 16-minute “Tetragrammaton” is equal parts Mahavishnu Orchestra and classic Queen. Likewise, the half-Spanish, half-English “Viscera Eyes” is as close as the Mars Volta comes to a straight rocker, with its sublime chorus saturated in blaring horns, side by side with crisp guitar riffing reminiscent of Rage Against The Machine.

In the end, although the overall arch of the disc is a little lopsided, the good parts still easily outweigh the bad. While it would be pointless in just rehashing the best moments of De-Loused, it would still be nice to see more recognition of the elements that made it such a successful album. It’s still a good album from a great band, and if their live set includes a smattering of songs from Amputechture this time around, I won’t complain.