At the Drive-In

At the Drive-In reinvigorated American postpunk, combining emo's unabashed passion with a politically edged fury reminiscent of the MC5. The El Paso, TX, fivesome—singer Cedric Bixler, guitarist Omar Rodriguez, guitarist Jim Ward, bassist Paul Hinojos, and drummer Tony Hajjar—established their formula early on, combining the rough-edged emo of underground favorites Jawbreaker with Rage Against the Machine's bombastic punk- metal attack. El Gran Orgo's six tuneful tracks sound more focused than previous album Acrobatic Tenement's sprawl of tricky rhythms and noisome textures: On "Picket Fence Cartel," Bixler spits a barely discernible barrage of bitter words over stop- start guitars and stomping- yet- precise drums and bass, before breaking into what was to become his trademark yowl in the strangely catchy chorus.

With emo's aggressive longing distilled into Bixler's convulsion of a voice, the band ditched its vestigial pop- punk niceties on In/Casino/Out and played harder and faster than ever before. Explosive and frequently pretty, the disc would sound spastic were it not so carefully orchestrated. The bass growls like a Rottweiler, the guitars twine like two strands of razor wire, and the cascading drums leap out of the mix. (Bixler's lyrics, on the other hand, become completely confused. On "Pickpocket," he blathers that "In the humble stench of nativity/hummed the smell of television snow" as if it actually meant something.)

The seven-song EP Vaya actually scales back the simulated chaos and dials in some exquisite, restrained tension. The lissome groove on "300 MHz" puts Rage Against the Machine's quiet parts to shame, and includes a bridge with Bixler's vocals being played backward (either that or he's truly spouting gibberish), while "Heliotrope" gallops into slinky, frenetic funk that repeatedly seizes and recovers, then drops down to Bixler's hoarse whisper and explodes. "198d" even proves the band's ability as balladeers.

Their major label debut, Relationship of Command, ratchets the levels back up to 11. In compari-son to Vaya, Command sounds a little icy. But this is owed mostly to Ross Robinson's all-edges production; ATDI play as deftly as ever, unleashing a fireworks display of competing yet complementary sound bursts. The sinisterly schizo "One Armed Scissor" enthralled indie- oriented hard- rock fans who had yet to hear from the Strokes or the White Stripes, but personal differences broke At the Drive- In apart before they could make a mark on MTV.

Bixler and Rodriguez (the ones, famously, with MC5-inspired afros) went on to form Mars Volta, but it was Sparta—Paul Hinojos and Tony Hajjar, with Jim Ward on guitar and vocals—who capitalized on ATDI's momentum, essentially by re-creating their sound. Sparta obviously intended the startlingly good Wiretap Scars for an audience wider than At the Drive- In's. Ward can't help but sing more conventionally than Bixler, although he flits quite comfortably between vulnerable coo and outraged shout. Big guitars and beats abound, but so do melodies, and the pretty parts stretch out, interrupted only by explosive choruses.

Mars Volta's three-song EP Tremulant also smoothes out At the Drive-In's spiky textures, but with a psychedelic sheen and smidgens of ambient electronica. The almost absurdly ambitious De-Loused in the Comatorium—a well- received concept album about the drug- related death of a friend—moves like tropical weather, squalling in tremendous bursts, then settling into hushed interludes that sound like breezes playing on loose debris. Bixler fully releases his helium- fed voice, playing on every crash and whisper, ultimately breaking through the cast of rage that defined At the Drive- In. Sparta scored a hit with "Cut Your Ribbon"; one hopes Mars Volta will someday vault onto radio. If At the Drive- In did it, anything's possible. (NICK CATUCCI)

From 2004's The New Rolling Stone Album Guide