There are only two degrees of separation
between me and one of my rock heroes
because a bass player friend of mine, a bass
player that has played in bands with me
over these many years, has also
toured with Eels on several occasions
and ultimately was recorded and filmed
for the triple record/concert film from 2015,
Royal Albert Hall, a live album from this
very famous place, opened in 1871
on March 29 by Queen Victoria. The hero
I speak of is one Mark Oliver Everett,
known more universally as E, the master-
mind behind Eels, kind of a band, but more
like a rotating roster of fine musician types
who help bring E’s songs to life on stage,
songs from records that, for the most part,
E performed and recorded all by himself.
Of those records, from 1996 to 2025,
I have eight titles on vinyl, and another
three or four on CD. Missing just a couple
of titles from the catalog, Eels is a band, or
E is an artist, to which I have been loyal
almost from the beginning.
“Novocaine for the Soul” was my Eels
introduction, along with the rest of the
world. A mid nineties song and debut
album, Beautiful Freak had nothing to do
with the Seattle sound, had more affinity with
the 80’s, perhaps, than its own decade,
but it had these great modern drum sounds
and grooves that seemed almost hip-hop
adjacent, while E’s knack for melody,
sardonic, ironic, self-deprecating, storytelling
lyrics, and a stylistic versatility between
the upbeat pop-rock thing and the lullaby-esque
quiet tune, made the record feel super
fresh and unlike most of its contemporary
competition. Eels were a breath of fresh air
in that stinky era of plaid shirts and long hair.
Blinking Lights and Other Revelations is a
masterclass in understatement, a quiet,
deeply reflective, introspective, beautiful,
sometimes painfully sad sequence
of songs. About a decade after
the debut album, it stands out as not so
much a rock record at all, but something
softer, more introspective, more personal,
but not completely without hilarity, like
the very silly and cathartic dance craze
song, “Everybody’s going fetal,” or the
paradoxical optimism of the list of shitty
things that will definitely happen to
every single one of us sooner or later,
with the rousing chorus of “Hey man,
now you’re really living!” I think of E
as a kind of sooth-sayer, his songs a
type of wisdom literature, wisdom
that is rarely pretty, but often contains
a healthy helping of joy in the mix.
Many of the tunes on this album might
make you cry, but afterwards you’ll feel better.
Another ten years go by in my vinyl collection
before the release of Eels Perform
The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett,
a title that explicitly announces the auto-
biographical nature of this collection of songs.
Here’s another album that lacks rockers,
features almost exclusively the minimalist,
acoustic, and quiet. Most of these tunes
are just E’s voice and a single instrument,
a guitar, a piano or keyboard, sometimes
some strings sneak in. On only a few tunes
are there drums, and I’d venture that none
of these tunes clock in above 75 BPM.
That’s okay. While E sure can pen a catchy-ass
pop song, his real strength and sophistication
comes through in his ballads. He’s got some
sadness in there, for sure, and I’m guessing
that he directs that into his songs to prevent
self sabotage or destruction. But even among
these sad songs where he reflects on life’s
losses (“I should have stayed with Agatha Chang,”
or “I can’t keep defeating myself/I can’t keep
repeating the mistakes of my youth”), there
are pockets of hopefulness, of optimism.
He concludes this album of new songs singing:
“I can’t say if the flowers will keep on growing,
but I’ve got a good feeling ’bout where I’m going.”
Amen to that, E.
The vinyl version of Royal Albert Hall, three
records on purple vinyl came with a DVD of
the entire show, and, while I know my little
listening project is all about the records,
I’m feeling like I need to see this concert
again, so that’s what I do. It’s glorious.
And there is nothing else like watching
a friend of mine play the Royal Albert Hall.
Find me a sadder set of songs that nevertheless
in performance makes one feel overwhelmed
with gratitude and happiness, and I will eat
my hat. Spoiler alert. They let E play the organ.
They let E play the organ! I’m not crying.
Notes on the vinyl editions:
- Beautiful Freak, Dreamworks Records, 1996, black vinyl.
- Blinking Lights and Other Revelations, Vagrant Records, 2021 reissue of the 2005 album, triple multi-colored vinyl, purple and white marble.
- The Cautionary Tales of Mark Oliver Everett, Eworks Records, 2015, double clear vinyl, deluxe edition. The second LP is a bonus material disc of outtakes of songs from earlier records, outtakes from this album, and live performances.
- Royal Albert Hall, Eworks Records, 2015, triple purple vinyl. Super excited for, proud of, and jealous of my good friend Allen Hunter for being the bass player on this tour and having this kind of peak experience as a musician.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric. .
michael jarmer 