Eels – Blinking Lights and Other Revelations

Dear Friends, Lovers, and Music Lovers, it is with a heavy heart and disappointed ears that I report the following news, but the Eels are done.

You see, I have a theory about the Eels. In my mind, each of their albums represents a different season of the year. Beautiful Freak? Fall. It’s not too warm, not too cold, and as the band’s debut, it should naturally come at the beginning of the school year. Electro-Shock Blues is winter, for reasons so depressingly obvious I need not explain. One look at Daisies of the Galaxy’s pastoral album cover should tell you it’s spring, while Souljacker — the Eels’ fourth LP — is most definitely summer: it’s fun, it’s upbeat, and it’s all about experimentation (musical, not sexual).

What happens, however, when the seasons run out? Do you start covering days of the week? Favorite foods? The answer, it seems, is to release crappy, directionless albums, starting with 2003’s Shootenanny! and continuing with this month’s Blinking Lights and Other Revelations.

Ok, I take back that last part. Blinking Lights does have direction, albeit a clichéd one. It tells the story of Mark Oliver Everett’s (aka E’s, aka the Eels’ primary songwriter’s) life, from birth to adolescence to — you guessed it — death. The whole thing unfolds like a cheesy Broadway musical, only without B-list actors and Ticketmaster fees. (How is it fair to charge for shipping, handling, and processing, by the way? Isn’t shipping and handling already a process?)

Yet as much as I love Phantom, I didn’t sign up for a play; I signed up for the brand-new Eels CD, the one where E and the guys successfully return to their post-grunge glory days. Remember “Novocaine for the Soul?” Great fucking song. A welcome refreshment after years of Pearl Jam, Bush, and Alice in Chains. “Last Stop: This Town”? Gaggingly poppy, yes, but also infectiously original.

Alas, Blinking Lights has none of these elements. It’s a double album, spanning over an hour-and-a-half long, but minus the instrumentals (eight), tracks featuring guest stars (three — Tom Waits, Peter Buck, and John Sebastian), and songs whose only redeeming quality is their cool title (at least five, including “Son of a Bitch,” “I’m Going to Stop Pretending I Didn’t Break Your Heart,” and “Whatever Happened to Soy Bomb”), you’re really only left with a handful of bonafide Eels tunes. There’s “Railroad Man,” a beautiful, Dylan-ish ode to growin’ up; “Hey Man (Now You’re Really Livin’”, a Shrek-like jaunt through E’s garden of angst; and even “If You See Natalie,” which reminds me of the lovely Ms. Portman. But c’mon, E! Can’t you muster up a bit more? Do it for the kids!

I think it’s gonna be alright, though. Another British-sounding American rock band will come along soon to steal both our hearts and ears, and life will return happily to normal. But until then, I hope you will join me in mourning the loss of a once very hip band: the Eels. To borrow a line from “Things the Grandchildren Should Know,” the final track off Blinking Lights: “In the end I’d like to say that I’m a very thankful man / [And] if I had to do it all again / Well, it’s something I’d like to do.” Thanks for the memories, guys.

Sincerely, Jeremy (former Eels fan)