Eels
Beautiful Freak

THE REVIEW

A house without being a home... all white... whitest like nothingness...
A little girl with big eyes is dressed in white too...
Exaggeratedly big... maybe it's not normal...
She stares at me motionless... doesn't smile but makes me smile...
Actually no, she seems sad... doesn't speak... maybe she's not real... maybe neither am I
...but she's probably more real than I could ever strive to be.
In her hands she holds a sunflower torn from the earth... fake? No, it's dead... am I dreaming?
I'm confused... where am I? A sign up high says Anguille - Bellissimo Mostro.
I ask her who she is... she doesn't respond... but I listen anyway and... there's something, something I do hear...
A small piano melody comes from another room...
I enter... an old ruined vinyl record spins but only to make noise... scrthscsrhcsrhhschsrhcs... scrthscsrhcsrhhschsrhcs... scrthscsrhcsrhhschsrhcs...
On the ground, a boy with glasses leaning over the piano... without taking his eyes off the keys, whispers in a hoarse voice...
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...
I look out the window... children are shouting... what's happening at Susan's house? ...Well... nothing extraordinary, but beyond a fence, a crazy old lady breaks bottles on the sidewalk where two years before her house burned down... but people say she wasn't really crazy.
I stare at him bewildered... but he carries on... and strums an arpeggio on an electric guitar...
There's a spider crawling on the bathroom mirror... right above my right eye and I can't stop staring at it
...and so he explodes his distorted anger filling the whole room with delightful noise...
He stops... returns to the piano and lights a red candle... and at this point I sit down on the ground too... That girl with the big eyes enters crawling... he smiles at her and gently caresses her...
You're such a beautiful freak... a freak of nature... I wish there were more like you... because you're not like the others... that's why I love you... Some think you have a problem... but that problem is only inside them... just because you're not like the others.
I smile too... chills seize me... she is just so...
Don't you ever leave this house? – I ask him – There's a world out there, I know because I heard it in my sweetest dream... I'd like to go for a ride... but I don't think I'm ready yet.
But... me and my beloved freak always go around together... we wear a four-sleeved raincoat that suits any kind of weather...
But where have I ended up? Who is this madman? I keep asking myself since I came in...
He puts down the electric guitar and picks up the acoustic one while a choir of angels accompanies him in his personal prayer...
It’s such a great world God... and I am ugly and small... every day they rain down on me... a flower in a hailstorm...
He looks at me... now it seems he's mad at me... maybe he's mistaken me for someone else...
Are you one of those beautiful people? Am I on the wrong side? Sometimes it feels like I'm made of eggshells and it seems I'll break... everyone needs someone, everyone needs to find someone to love, but I don't know if you know what I mean... because I never make it onto your list.
Now he’s really out of it, turns on the TV, plugs in the guitar to the amp and screams at the top of his lungs about the falsehood...
Another host on TV... has that lost and empty look in his eyes... I change the channel but nothing changes... the only truth is that everything is false.
Maybe it's better if I leave... - I think – but suddenly he calms down and returns to the piano with his hoarse voice...
One day the world will be ready for you... and they will wonder why they never saw you... I will walk the earth with your name on my tongue and your picture etched into my screen.
I'm not sure who he was referring to... but at least he’s regained his sarcastic smile...
This could be your lucky day in hell... you never know who might be at the door
In the end, as I'm about to leave, a message from the answering machine... it's a love message...
Hold me in your arms... and let me be the one... who can feel like a child in love.

Whether it was a dream or not, I visited the home of Mark Oliver Everett.
If you want to go too, don't wait for his invitation... he's quite a reserved type, visit him whenever you like... his house is small but cozy, and even if he might seem crazy to you, he’s really just a beautiful freak.
Whether it was a dream or not, I visited the home of Mark Oliver Everett but never left home...