As a young blonde in the front row approached the stage with camera phone held high, lead singer Bixler-Zavala playfully posed for a photo, then spit in her face.
She got the photo, then wiped away the saliva, probably both elated and humiliated. Critics and fans continue to rip apart the behavior of the Mars Volta, claiming it as pretentious and self indulgent. One will not hear “Thank you San Francisco! We are so glad to be here.” The band quietly enters and quietly exits the stage; everything in between is complete and total chaos. The group’s focus is to give the performance they want to give, and perhaps one the audience desires, but there just isn’t the time or energy for civilities (and bull shit small talk). It is becoming apparent that audiences have expectations for inclusion; they want to understand the insanity that is the Mars Volta. They, however, will remain: the other.

My focus at a show sometimes waves from the front of the theatre to attractive or interesting patrons carousing the theatre. This time, however, my focus became centered on kidnapping a few choice audience members in the front row. I carefully assessed the center front row members and found a handful that looked remarkably similar to my friends and myself.

I started thinking how the most efficient way to stage this kidnapping was to wait for them to use the bathroom, attack, then switch our sets of clothing, and finally leave them tied in the ladies room. Such is the intensity of the desire to be as close as possible to the Mars Volta.

Bixler-Zavala literally threw and somersaulted his way off stage into the crowd, running the entirety of the center aisle- front to back. Fans slapped his ass, grabbed at his gravity defying mess of hair, and made their best tactile attempts at reaching into his psychosis.

One cannot help but appreciate and long for an inside route to the insanity that these men create. Most of us will never even approach a surface understanding of this world, but the physical closeness seemed just as satisfying. Grievances about their aloof presence are likely rooted in jealousy and just plain, pure confusion.

Bixler-Zavala’s on stage antics are mystifying for both their chaos and control. During the two hour set he seemed to channel into the energy of a host of different animal states. Bixler-Zavala climbed onto just about anything he could find, often reaching heights of at least a story high. He would then casually jump back down, only to throw himself to the ground and pull his body hand over hand, legs dragging behind, across the stage. He would crawl to the edge then dangle his torso off the edge, all the while maintaining his ear piercing, signature scream. He had an odd practice of licking the back of his hands then running them through his hair, looking much like a cat.

A team of people would just appear to control Zavala’s destruction. As he attempted to push over amps, suddenly someone would appear, just like a ghostly apparition, to act as a support, defying his destruction. The same team was there to swiftly catch the mic stands he would grip in his mouth then throw twenty feet across the stage. This odd dance between band and crew made the behavior all the more bizarre, lending the question is this planned or just precautionary?

Houston’s Daily Cougar said, “The Mars Volta receive a C- for satisfactory music, but grossly ungentleman-like behavior” This is the behavior we want from a rock show, and at this point the behavior that is expected from this band. If an audience member expects gentlemanly behavior they should not be attending rock shows, in fact they probably should abandon even listening to rock music at all. The fanatical ravings of lead singer Bixler-Zavala have gained increasing criticism.

The rumblings as we left the show were specific to Bixler Zavala’s behavior. Accusations of drug use or an unstable mental state seemed to be the only audible explanation.

Additional Notes:

-Most reviews for the Mars Volta are either grossly distorted or laden with facts that the sycophant authors most likely inserted as to attempt to sound like they have any idea what the fuck they are talking about. The At the Drive In split in Sparta and the Mars Volta often takes up the space where the writer’s utter confusion lay.

-The most poignant connection for fans seemed to be the more melodic pieces with grounded story lines, all the rest being popularly disliked and perhaps, discredited.

The Mars Volta’s albums wander back and forth between conceptual genius and nonsensical lunacy

-There were rampant rumors and undercurrents that the band’s self indulgence had started to push the patience of “even Volta’s most dedicated fans.” These whisperings included talk of three hour shows consisting of merely three songs