Eels
Blinking Lights And Other Revelations

THE REVIEW

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.