Damn, 33 tracks just like the age of Christ when he was crucified, and indeed it's a bit of a Calvary that I'm about to review. Nothing dramatic, mind you, and I don't want to delve into the aura of bad luck that haunts the leader E, between bereavements and psychological earthquakes (for this, my colleague kosmogabri, who is informed of all the music gossip, can give you better insights). I won't comment on each track because, musically, there's little to comment on, aside from the usual folk-blues chords with the skillful and moderate use of sounds "bordering" on the genre: mellotron, trombones, harmonicas that add a bit of spice to the otherwise, I dare say, banal tracks if it weren't for the melancholic and poignant voice of the bearded leader narrating thin, sad, and moving stories, which can, on more than one occasion, come off as cloying and syrupy.
In short, aside from a few lively and spirited episodes (see the country-western "Railroad Man" or the raucous "Going Fetal" played as if we were in a dodgy pub on the outskirts) that can be counted on the fingers of one hand (leaving the other free to fluff the pillow for a nap), the album fades into more than well-trodden territories by the Eels, making this album seem like a mere extension of the same endless record that, for years now, they have been presenting us with the usual ups and downs. Indulging in and gathering oneself in a moment of melancholy certainly does good, but doing it for an hour and a half is half a suicide (unless it's kept as background music while doing something else, but then that's another story...) and risks giving a soporific effect (read: boredom). So what is the reason for all this media bombardment of "masterpiece" expressed here and there by various music magazines? Surely the enlightened and poetic lyrics and the histrionic bearded Mr. E, a shy but interesting character in his desire to be present without appearing.
There's not much to add on the musical aspect except that many tracks could have been spared as they are completely dispensable in the economy of the work (and someone else in marketing must have realized this, offering us two CDs for the price of one, which never like in this case reeks of a true promotional operation rather than true artistic choice). Neither infamous nor praiseworthy. To listen to but not a must-have at all costs. All the more so since, like 70% of contemporary productions, it will be stored to gather dust in the less accessible area of one's home music library.
Tracklist Lyrics and Videos
04 Blinking Lights (For Me) (02:01)
Blinking lights on the airplane wings
Up above the trees
Blinking down a morse code signal
Especially for me
Ain't no rainbow in the sky
In the middle of the night
But the signal's coming through
One day i will be alright again
Blinking lights on the highway cars
Stopping one by one
Get a look at the accident
Didn't see that one coming
And the doctor in the sky
Gonna bring his chopper down
Gonna bring me out alive
And set me on the ground
Once more again
Blinking lights on the airplane wings
Up above the trees
05 Trouble With Dreams (04:33)
There's nothing that i wanna do
More than get alone and be with you
Trouble with dreams is they don't come true
And when they do they can't catch up to you
You don't need a thing from me
But i need something big from you
'cause you know i've got
An awful lot of big dreams
I'm walking down a lonely road
Clear to me now but i was never told
Trouble with dreams is you never know
When to hold on and when to let go
If you let me down it's alright
At least that leaves something for me
'cause you know i've got
An awful lot of big dreams
This is the life that i must lead now
Crossing fingers and wiping brow
Trouble with dreams is you can't pretend
Something with no beginning has an end
You don't need a thing from me
But i need something big from you
'cause you know i've got an awful lot of big dreams
08 In the Yard, Behind the Church (04:05)
In the yard, behind the church where
Butterflies and blackbirds search for
A safe place to rest the night away
We will go down to the brook and
Sit upon the overlook then
Forget about the troubles of the day
We will walk among the graves of
Men long dead with presidents' names and
Listen to the water flow softly by
I will kiss you on the lips now
And as the sky grows dark we'll strip down
And let the water wash away all lies
In the yard, behind the church where
Butterflies and blackbirds perch on
Gray stones as the garden's growing dim
We will lay down on the ground and
Put our cheeks against the dirt down
Where it no longer matters
Where you've been
12 Mother Mary (03:21)
People talking sound like dogs
Barking through the trees
Making no sense at all
Meaning nothing to me
Mother Mary
Quite contrary
I did not mean to let you go
So quick
People talking crack me up
They don't have a little clue
What it's like to be me
What it's like to lose you
Mother Mary
I grow weary
I did not mean to ler you go
So quick
People talking sound like dogs
Barking up the wrong tree
Take a good man down
And set the evil free
Mother Mary
Quite Contrary
I did not mean to let you go
So quick
14 Understanding Salesmen (02:43)
A knock on the door means
Hello jesus calls
A ring on the phone means
A trip to niagara falls
Daddy don't let me down this time
I'm all alone inside my mind
And it's no small thing
That i must prove to you
A late night card game
With the guys is alright
But i would rather take you
For a test drive
Daddy don't let me down this time
I'm all alone inside my mind
And it's no small thing
That i must prove to you
While i look out
On the passing fields
The sun through the bugs
On the windshield
Makes me feel
Like i
Don't matter
A knock on the door means
Hello jesus calls
A ring on the phone means
A trip to niagara falls
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By frantz
The greatness of this work... lies in its being a comprehensive compendium of life, from the suffering of abandonment and death, to the faith in a hope of a way out of the pain.
For me a Masterpiece of art and life!
By holdencaulfield
And you tell us that the Night is anything but endless, and if you just hold on, morning eventually arrives.
Your voice that scratches against the pain, until it wears it out and realizes that, beneath, happiness is hidden.