Tuesday March 15, 2005 arts. michigandaily. com artspage@michigandaily.com RTeSitigan tii RiS 8 0 8 r BERNIE NGUVEN MARS ATTACKS Proud to read litism exists. I've accepted this. And yet, I have to wonder why. Why is it that some things are considered more intellectually "valu- able" than other things? Why is it that anything that is popular is automatically lowbrow and bad taste? Whether in lit- erature, music or art, there seems to be a specific definition (or a widely accepted concept) as to what constitutes literature. My friend Tom once told me that he doesn't bother to read fiction. "Why read something made up," he said, "when you can read something that is true?" This logic applies not only to fiction vs. non- fiction, but also to this strangely amor- phous yet absolutely immutable idea of good literature. Why read a murder mys- tery when you can read Virginia Woolf? Stephen King, one of my favorites, was considered by my high school Eng- lish teacher, Mrs. Read, to be pulp - a way that uneducated people pass the time while sitting in airports or waiting for their kids at swim class. Another look, however, reveals much more: intricate plots, fascinating characters, layered themes that weave in and out of the parts of humanity that lurk somewhere below the level of waking consciousness. Isn't that what books are about, when it comes down to it? Something that can touch you, move you, change your life to the extent that you no longer see things the same way after the last page is turned? Isn't that why we read? Books have a sense of magic that is lacking in other forms of artistic expres- sion. Film is mental images projected onto a screen. Music manifests itself in discrete melodies, rhythms and words, and art is physical expression in its most raw form. Unlike these, books require active participation. To truly experience a novel to its fullest extent is to accept the fact that another world can, and does, exist. It is Coleridge's "willing suspense of disbelief," King's "truth within the lie," the power that the written word has to take on a life and shape of its own, to the extent that even the physical presence of a book has the potential to inspire or threaten. I still hide my horror novels behind my socks sometimes when I'm too scared to finish reading them. It is this odd, strangely unexplored and unrealized phenomenon that makes a pulp fiction book so powerful. Historical precedents exist in all cultures. The Bible requires faith as its foundation, an acceptance of a higher truth. Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin" is famously known as the book that helped instigate the Civil War. This mysterious influence of the written word is what made the Nazis burn books during the 1930s and what led to the uproar over censorship during the latter years of the 20th century. It is precisely this emotional effect that should define the value of a work. "Anna Karenina" didn't become a classic because of its vast exploration of human themes. "The Sound and the Fury" isn't read in English class because of its unique struc- ture. Their status as literature emerged from the fact that someone, somewhere, read them and became a different per- son. Only now can we say that they have intellectual merit because they have lasted for so long. In 50 years, I believe that Ste- phen King will have as good a reputation as Dickens. After all, in his time, Shake- speare was adored by the masses. Forget reading "literature." Forget those books that people told you to read because they would edify your mind or make you seem more intelligent at cock- tail parties. Throw away your precon- ceptions about paperbacks. Literature should not be predicated on the number of long words used in the text. It should never be about the remoteness of the. subject or the complexity of the motifs. Literature should be something that makes you want to read more. It should be the cumulative capacity that words have to transport you to distant realms or teach you about yourself. I will not stop reading Stephen King for the same rea- son that I won't stop listening to Sarah McLachlan or appreciating "Spongebob Squarepants." They have provided me with those rare moments of happiness, when nothing else exists except what I'm feeling at the time. They have terrified me and they have made me laugh, and in defiance-of all who tell me I should read something more worthwhile, I will say it now: I love horror novels. Take that, Mrs. Read. Bernie still can't accept the fact that Stephen King is the worst writer ever. Con- vince her at languyen @umich.edu. FORMER PUNKS RELEASE DENSE CONCEPT ALBUM By Aaron Kaczander Daily Arts Writer Msic REVI EW Don't even try to place The Mars Volta in a category defined by Rush-esque prog rock or meticulous concept albums. True, their dense, elaborate records require patience to The Mars get through, and their eerily VOlta devised tales of mortality Frances the Mute and verbose adjectives mixed Universal with multi-lingual titles are downright confusing. Yet this electrified chaos is precisely how lyricist Cedric Bixler-Zavala and producer/guitarist Omar Rodri- guez-Lopez avoid classification. The Mars Volta have finally offered up Frances the Mute, one of the most anticipated records in an already com- petitive 2005, and it rocks with screeching passion and intensity. After putting the kibosh on their successful punk rock outfit At The Drive-In, Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez created The Mars Volta to explore the space between musical genres. Sonic limitations were lifted with their 2003 debut, De- loused in the Comatorium, an epic sci-fi adventure based loosely on the memory of a departed friend and guru to the band. Frances the Mute follows suit, though not identically, chronicling a late band mem- ber's discovery of a diary containing inspirational material. Cygnus, the protagonist, searches for his biological parents while learning the importance of family. Bixler-Zavola and Rodriguez-Lopez preach heavily of the record's moral message, relying on the listener to decipher it out of more than 75 min- utes of mind-boggling noise. Five major tracks make up the album. Contrary to rumors, they are broken down into subsections of the ambitious storyline. "Cygnus ... Vismund Cyg- nus," "The Widow," "L'Via L'Viaquez," "Miranda That Ghost Just Isn't Holy Anymore" and "Cassan- dra Gemini" are the major headlines, while small- courtesy of Universal "You say something? Yeah, we didn't think so." er sub-tracks are numbered like a lecture outline, boasting titles like "B. Umbilical Syllables" and "B. Plant A Nail In The Navel Stream." Don't expect to be stuck with only five forward skips for an hour of music: Store-bought versions of the album break down into the colorfully named sub-tracks quite efficiently. Creating an album with such odd sequencing seems like a snooty slap in the face to the casual lis- tener, but Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez don't seem to care. Instead, they conduct their production like a masterful Hollywood film. Rodriguez-Lopez plays director with his screaming guitar and sprawl- ing arrangements. Bixler-Zavala is the seasoned actor, wailing and yelping to convey innumerable moods under the direction of Rodriguez-Lopez's master plot. Three tracks clock in at more than 12 minutes, but don't expect any spacey jam band fluff. The cinematic opener, "Cygnus ... Vismund Cygnus" transitions from a lone acoustic guitar riff, which recurs throughout the album, into a poly- rhythmic extravaganza of shrill harmonic vocals and prickly guitar bursts. Regardless of the conceptual hype surround- ing Frances, the album boasts searing guitar solos with enough sizzle and punch to fill the test room at the local Guitar Center. "L'Via L'Viaquez" offers a trademark taste of Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez- Lopez's Puerto Rican heritage, complete with beau- tiful Spanish vocals and a salsa-fused breakdown. The backing members of The Mars Volta, though often hidden in the shadow of the skinny, afro- and glasses-wearing duo, shine with just the right amount of multi-instrumental accents. Frances is loud when it wants to be and incred- ibly soft when it needs to be; Bixler-Zavala often sings with a hollow whisper. Lead single "The Widow" evokes a fast-paced swing-along, with a half-tempo droop and explosively screeching cho- rus. But Frances is marred by the slower, ambient sounds in more experimental tracks like "Vade Mecum." These noise-filled outros often last past their welcome, tacked on to the end of high-octane tracks that would fare better without the whirring, clicking and general robotic atmospherics. Bixler-Zavala and Rodriguez-Lopez may have taken a daring and often ridiculed step by disbanding At The Drive-In, but the ideology behind The Mars Volta 's work conjures a similar level of appeal and credibility. Look past the silly titles, verbose lyrics and lack of distinct tracks, and you'll find a brand of rock'n'roll that just isn't available anywhere else. And they certainly don't give a fuck if Frances the Mute doesn't shuffle well on an iPod. Looking for a career that radiates success? Then talk to someone who knows science. 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