The Mars Volta may be the most absurd band on the planet. While three-fifths of at the drive-in split to head into straightforward directions with the vaguely rock Sparta, Cedric Bixler-Zavala and Omar A. Rodriguez-Lopez had far grander ambitions in mind.

Some people judge them to be terminable and unlistenable, others besides call them the best jazz band since the 1950s, others think they fall somewhere between the two extremes. Some folks undoubtedly think of that as one and the same. But what’s exciting about the Mars Volta is the way that they can control their cacophony of sound.

It’s well presented on Scab Dates, a live album that purports to document the band over the life of their four-year cycle, but which ignores their most recent album, Frances the Mute, in favour of their debut, de-loused at the comatorium. It’s manic, and when they launch into “Cicatriz” the band come together to deliver an utterly thrilling sound.

Of course, it’s wild and woolly and experimental and crazy. But that’s the Mars Volta for you. This is not a band who do things by halves – when they focus on delivering punchy musical acrobatics, it’s an intense kaleidoscope of sound. When they want to noodle, they aurally wank with the best of ‘em. Much of Scab Dates is crazy, but it’s the best kind of crazy; the sort that leaves you wishing you were there to see them fly off the loop in the manner in which only they can.