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Rating: Many would call it masochism but I do not believe it is so. Simply put, during this period, I just can't listen to cheerful music, using it as a marker to cover what's underneath. Watching him crumble week after week in the hospital is atrocious; this state of affairs lays a veil of sadness on me that I try to shake off in various ways. A few aperitifs and evenings out are there but the overwhelming feeling is of listening to a scratched record; the melody continuously interrupted. And so I take the headphones and run until it gets dark.
If a child sees something unusual, they approach and try to touch what they do not understand. They open their hand and move closer to that leg that should be there and instead seems to be hidden somewhere. It is only with the force and constancy of those continuous reproaches from parents that over time we learn to disguise attraction, interest in what is different, transforming it into the art of pretending nothing's there, of hiding the dust under the carpet.
With increasing frequency, I am getting to know the oncology ward of my city; there are children who candidly ask why their relative has lost so much weight and no longer has their hair. Some take the corners of their grandparent's or mother's mouth and pull them up to form a smile; the one that has been on vacation for several months. They are disarming and bring joy because with that sincerity they make them feel like real people and not just objects to be pitied while crying. A visitor takes a few days to get acclimated and realize that behind that diversity, that monstrous pain, there is beauty.
Beautiful Freak.
After a couple of solo albums released in the early '90s, Mark Oliver Everett, much more simply E., releases the first album with the Eels. It is a CD that can flow peacefully in the car, I got to know it like that a few months ago, as a placid background while discussing this and that; instruments and voice are never excessive, often whispering and in some cases they seem to be gently knocking with the knuckles asking "may I disturb?"
Listening to “Beautiful Freak” in such a manner would, however, be rather rude on your part. The cover, in case you have the original CD as I do, immediately tells us that it is a very intriguing work featuring a crawling child scanning us with disproportionately large eyes. We are drawn to those tennis balls but then we bow our heads pretending not to have seen them because they almost embarrass us. A little monster with a disarming tenderness that will conquer us with its twelve songs without too much effort.
If I were an expert, I would say that the music of Eels belongs to the indie rock genre and refers to artists like Cake and Beck, with rather soft guitars even in the more rhythmic pieces like “Novocaine for the Soul”. I close my eyes and let myself be lulled by a sweet melancholy that lasts about forty minutes in which everything is gray yet filled with sweetness (“Susan's House”). These are short tracks in which the sound production seems deliberately muffled as if intending to age the product a few decades (low-fi). Intros like those in “Rags to Rags” manage to materialize the fine fall of rain swept by the wind that has been persistently present in my daily life for some months. A lament, now electronic (“Mental”) now more abrasive, takes the form of a distorted guitar (“My Beloved Monster”). This music wraps around me with a few distinct elements in each piece, differentiating each from the last. It's an album to be listened to without interruptions, devoid of lows and able to bring back memories of rare sweetness as if that music had been linked to us for years. E's voice can be rough (“Rags to Rags”) or a caress (“Monchild”) and the simple and uncompromising lyrics are an added value.
Beautiful melancholy in the form of music.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
01 Novocaine for the Soul (03:08)
Life is hard, and so am I
You'd better give me something, so I don't die
Novocaine for the soul
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Life is white and I am black
Jesus and his lawyer are coming back
Oh my darling, will you be here
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Guess who's living here, with the great undead
This paint-by-numbers life is fucking with my head
Once again
Life is good and I feel great
'Cause mother says I was a great mistake
Novocaine for the soul
You'd better give me something to fill the hole
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
Before I sputter out
02 Susan's House (03:43)
Goin' over to susan's house
Walking south down baxter street
Nothin hidin' behind this picket fence
There's a crazy old woman smashing bottles
on the sidewalk where her house burnt down 2 years ago
people say back then she really wasn't that crazy
goin' over to susan's house
goin' over to susans house
i can't be alone tonight
down by the donut prince a 15 year old boy
lies on the sidewalk with a bullet in his forehead
in a final act of indignity the paramedics take off all his clothes
for the whole world to see while they put him in the bag
meanwhile an old couple argues inside the queen bee
the sick flourescent light shimmering on their skin
goin over to susan's house
goin over to susan's house
she's gonna make it right
take a left down echo park
a kid asked do i want some crack
tv sets are spewing baywatch
through the windows into black
here comes a girl with long brown hair
who cant be more than 17
she sucks on a red popsicle
while she pushes a baby girl in a pink carriage
and im thinking that must be her sister
that must be her sister right?
they go into the 7-eleven
and i keep walking
and i keep walking
goin over to susan's house
goin over to susan's house
i can't be alone to night
goin over to susan's house
03 Rags to Rags (03:53)
There's a spider crawling
On the bathroom mirror
Right on top of my right eye
And I can't stop staring back
How did I get this way?
Take a big look at a living lie
Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed?
So rags to riches was a bust
Sometimes I dream about it
What it's like back home
The railroad tracks and the pussy willow
But I had to leave it
And I go back
Whenever my tired head hits the pillow
Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed
So rags to riches was a bust
Busted once again
But I'll show them one day
That I can buy and sell the world
And one day I'll come through
My American dream
But it won't mean a fuckin' thing
Rags to rags and rust to rust
How do you stand when you've been crushed?
So rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go
Rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go
Rags to rags and rust to rust
Don't let me go
06 My Beloved Monster (02:13)
My beloved monster and me
We go everywhere together
Wearing a raincoat that has four sleeves
Gets us through all kinds of weather
She will always be the only thing
That comes between me and the awful sting
That comes from livin' in a a world that's so damn mean
My beloving monster she's tough
If she wants she will disrobe you
But if you lay her down for a kiss
Her little heart it could explode
She will always be the only thing
That comes between me and the awful sting
That comes from livin' in a world that's so damn mean
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la
07 Flower (03:38)
Turn the ugly light off, God
Wanna feel the night
Every day it shines down on me
Don't you think that I see
Don't you think that I see
What it's all about
Hard to look the other way
While the world passes me by
And everyone is trying to bum me out
It's a pretty big world, God
And I am awful small
Every day they rain down on me
Flower in a hailstorm
Flower in a hailstorm
I'm livin' for the drought
I could throw it back at them
But then I'd play their game
Everyone is trying to bum me out
When I came into this world they slapped me
And every day since then I'm slapped again
Tomorrow's king, an unsightly coward
You see, I know I'm gonna win
Turn the ugly light off, God
Don't wanna see my face
Every day it will betray me
Don't you think that I know
Don't you think that I know
What they're talking about
If they step on me tonight
they're gonna pay someday
Everyone is trying to bum me out
Mmmmmmmm
Mmmmmmmmmmm
08 Guest List (03:13)
Are you one of the beautiful people?
Is my name on the list?
Wanna be of the beautiful people
Wanna feel like I'm missed
Hey you, with the walkie-talkie
I know my clothes are not right
I wish I had my own walkie-talkie
That reached to god every night
Everyone needs to be somebody
Everyone needs to find someone who cares
But I don't know if you know what I mean cause I'm
Never on your list
Are you one of the beautiful people?
Am I on the wrong track?
Sometimes it feels like I'm made of egg shell
It feels like I'm gonna crack
Everyone needs to be somebody
Everyone needs to find someone who cares
But I don't know if you know what I mean 'cause I'm
Never on your list
I'm never on your list
I'm never on your list
10 Spunky (03:11)
Spunky don't like her uniform
It never fit so good
Goin' back to the orphanage
And the place where her garage once stood
Well it's a free for all
free for all
free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
And if you don't like what they're telling you
You can't teach a blind man to see
Well I can see
Spunky looks good in her bright red wig
Eating chocolate-chip mint ice cream
A cat named Lola with a violent past
Is balled up asleep 'cross her knees
And it's a free for all
Free for all
Free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
One day the world will be ready for you
And wonder how they didn't see
Spunky knows she can save the world
In her own little way
Turning in her old uniform
'Cause you know, it really didn't pay
'Cause it's a free for all
Free for all
Free for all
It's a free for all
You and me
I walk through the world with your name on my tongue
And your picture etched on my screen
11 Your Lucky Day in Hell (04:28)
Mama gripped onto the milkman's hand
And then she finally gave birth
Years go by, still I don't know
Who shall inherit this earth
And no one will know my name until it's on the stone
This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell
Waking up with an ugly face
Winston Churchill in drag
Looking for new maternal embrace
Another tired old gag
Am I just a walking bag of chewed up dust and bones?
This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell
Father Theresa, you can't make me into you
I never wanna be like you
Why can't you see, it's me
You know it's time to let me go
This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your doorbell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell... in hell...
This could be your lucky day... in hell
Never know who it might be at your door bell... in hell
This could be your lucky day... in hell... in hell... in hell... in hell...
12 Manchild (04:05)
and every time you crave for me i'm, here
and anything you hunger for i'll share
and i will be quietly standing by
while slowly i am dying inside
hold me in your arms
and let me be the one who can feel
like i am a child in love
every time i talk to you you're down
and every time you need a laugh i'm around
and when you forget i'm here i'm not
it isn't really me that you forgot
hold me in your arms
and let me be the one who can feel
like i am a child in love
whisper now
and tell me how you'll watch me
and tell me somehow i'm gonna be alright
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Other reviews
By Castaldo
Life is hard... and so am I... you’d better give me something... so I won’t die... novocaine for the soul before I turn to dust.
You’re such a beautiful freak... a freak of nature... I wish there were more like you... because you’re not like the others.
