Beautiful Freak was the first Eels album, released in 1996. It's a pretty solid, grungey rock album. It's quite easy to get to grips with, and makes a good starting point for getting into the band. It's hard not to like the album - but perhaps it is quite hard to come to truely love it. A great many Eels fans swear by it. Myself included, actually. It's less subtle than many of E's works, and a bit less exciting and different and far out. But for all that, it's not really a conventional rock album, and has some brilliant highlights. Lyrically it is bleak, astute and intelligent. Give it some time to learn its tricks, and you'll keep coming back.
Listed below are the songs, and my thoughts on them. Not all songs have in-depth thoughts - they'll be developed with time. Click on a song title and the lyrics will pop up in a new page. I'll add here that lyrics have been copied from www.EELStheband.com, to save me a little typing :)
I should also add that anything I write here is just my opinion! I don't know E; I don't know why he writes his songs; and he's never told me what they're about. This is just me, writing down my thoughts, feelings and reactions. Because there is alot in a song; it's more than just music. I like to be able to share these experiences, because I think they're too easily forgotten. Anyway, should I ever write "E is saying..." what I really mean is "The impression I get from the song is that the author is setting up the following ideas", or perhaps I mean "the narrator is saying" - because each song isn't neccessarily E writing about himself. But, for obviously reasons, it's much easier for me to just refer to any author or narrator or voice or expressor of ideas as E. Was all this really neccessary? I don't know; but I do want to reinforce the fact that these are my own personal interpretations.
Finally, before we can get on with it, this is a very long and dense webpage. I'll eventually break it into two pages I think, just to make it a little more accessible.
There is something very peculiar about the album opener. Perhaps its the dizzy intro with the swishy drums. Maybe it's the wacky guitar that kicks in, or the strained vocal style. It's a powerful and brave album opener - instantly declaring that Eels sounds different to anything you've heard before. Add to that some lyrics that leap straight out at you, and this track tells you to keep your mind and ears open for the duration of the album.
Somehow, this song manages to create a feeling of a mind spinning. Of thoughts twisting, sanity straining; of hospital wards and hallucenogenics. Of a novocaine hit, I guess. It has a grungey, drugged up feel – a head swimming with emotion and despair and questions. It's a hard song to write about. One the one hand, it's all pretty obvious. Here's a guy who is chonrically depressed, in desperate need of a pick-me up. He's not physically ill, nor does he need a physical hit. Rather, he needs something more soulful. Some fulfilling thing to pick him up. If he doesn't, he'll sputter out; wither and die. He's at the very pit of despair here – he has nothing. “mother says I was a great mistake”, suggesting there's no purpose in his life. “The great undead”, suggesting an empty life.. an existence devoid of life. “Life is white and I am black” - another indication that he is as far from living as he can get. In fact, that lyric is one of the msot powerful, and perhaps the most obscure. I'll stick with the main argument here though - it's reinforcing the idea that E is far from being really alive. Life is white - pure and clean and strongly alive. He is black - the opposite of life; messed up; dark and unclean.
This is an interesting one. I've spent a lot of time trying to think what it's about. What it's really about. Obviously, it's about a pregnant teenager, and a boy getting shot, and a crazy woman. But the three stories are connected, and there's surely some common ground here. As I see it, it's a sort of attack on the American Dream. You know the one – that life is perfect in America... land of dreams, land of the free, all that kind of thing.
Listen to that dark bass line, and the smouldering voice of E as he talks through the verses. There's a gritty, street-level feel to the song here. I can imagine, pretty vividly, the dark alleyways and littered streets. The “sick fluorescent light”, and the grey, broken sidewalk. E paints a a real picture – with music, as much as with words. The two combine to paint these bleak stories of human tragedy, or depravity. Taken on their own, it's remarkably devoid of bias or judgement. Just three stories, just three things E has seen. Cold, detached and uninvolved. There's that line at the end “... and I keep walking”. It suggests a strong detachment from the scene, but to me, it's a forced one. He's seeing these things, and forcing himself to close his eyes, to forget about it.
But then the chorus comes, and listen to that keyboard jingle! It sounds just like the theme tune to some cheesy American sitcom or melodrama. Maybe I'm the only who hears that resemblance, but I do hear it, very vividly. And to this warm, cheery, unassuming sound, Susan's House is introduced. It is put forward as a refuge from those dark, hostile streets. It's a better place – somewhere to escape to when the world seems bad. There's a layer of the song at which E is commenting on the need to have an escape, to have someone to go to when everything seems bad. To have someone who can shelter you. That person is Susan.
But in all reality, what good is Susan's house? Sure, there's no-one dead on the floor there. But all that stuff is still outside, it's just out of sight. It's a limited refuge as best. I think there's more going on, and that Susan's house represents an idealised America. The TV America, the propaganda America, the place Americans want it to be. To me, that keyboard on the chorus is just so... quintessential. It literally presents that part of the song as a melodrama to me; where everything comes right in the end, where no-one really loses, and where there's a joke at the bottom of everything. That's it, right there, fanfare to Susan's house. I reckon that Susan's house represents the American Ideal – but in reality, that plain voice-over on the streets is what is going on. The craziness, the loss of dignity, the brutality. The old couple arguing; concerned with petty worries and assigning blame when a boy has died just outside. It's all so vivid and so bleak and so terrible. And I can well believe that, under all the gloss, such things are on the streets.
Sooner or later, I think everyone has to deal with failure. Regardless of how good we are, or how hard we try – there will come a time when we reach a hurdle which we simply cannot jump. Or perhaps fate intervenes to take away that which we hold dear; or perhaps an altogether more human force works against you. But everyone will crash – it's just a part of life. Rags to Rags is about dealing with that. And for me, the central lyric is “how will you stand when you've been crushed?”.
The song opens with that powerful, bleak image of E staring into the mirror. He's in some run-down motel or some such: a dingy place with spiders crawling around. The imagery is apt, settling a bleak and desolate scene very concisely. E is starting into the mirror, bugs and all, and wondering where it all went wrong. 'A living lie' – a guy who thought he had it all, but turned out to have nothing. No support, no fall back. Once he goes bust, he's out. That's kind captured in the second verse, where he talks about his detachment from home. His bridges are burned, and no matter how much he wants to return to that safe place, the only way he can do it is through his dreams.
I don't know if this is a story of real life from E. I guess in general terms, it's inpired from being in a bad place, or coming down from a good place. But sadly I don't know the specific background story, which is a shame. I can relate to a degree, in several ways. Sometimes it feels like im standing just on the edge, in a position where I can lose everything. After some hard years at university, I've certainly felt like 'a living lie'. I can also look at the experience of my close family, and I can feel the sting in these lyrics. The burned bridges, the scrapping for pride, I can see it alright.
The final verse hits pretty hard. All the way through is this dark guitar riff – from the “dripping pipes” sound, echoing loss and hope running away; to the snarling, tearing chorus. But then there's a bit of quiet, and maybe a more optimistic twist as the bass mellows a little. And then that lyric hits you out of the quiet.
And one day I'll come through my American Dream
And you're thinking “it can only last so long, it can only go so far. If he made it once, surely he can make it again?” And yeah, he probably will recover some of his good fortune, and get on his feet for a while. And then – bang!
... but it won't mean a fucking thing.
And that's about it, really. Once the pride is gone, it's gone. The success of wealth (rags to riches) is ultimately quite shallow – because the riches can be taken away. There are more important things: like the echoing sentiments of pride, and self-esteem, and having to look at yourself in the morning.
This is a sweet song, and it lifts the mood. Lets face it, things so far have been pretty grim. Songs about failure, about death, depression, general doom and gloom. While Beautiful Freak retains a cold, gloomy feel to it – it is a much more cheerful song. It has a ghostly piano, with a slight echo, a slow bass line, and a mellow guitar. There's no real drumbeat either – the pacing is all driven by the bass and something tinkly – a tambourine I guess. It's a bit strange – it's like walking down a street , swaying slowly from side to side, and spinning around slowly, in a washed out world.
I think that it's this swaying, slightly clumsy motion/sound which puts me in mind of childishness. I see it as two twelve-year-olds on a playground, and one is sweetly telling the other that he likes her. I guess the undramatic, plain way it is sung helps add to this. It's almost as if he's saying it as he's playing with some toys, with his mind half on other things. It's a sort of resonance I get from the song, that's all. But I can't imagine it being spoken by adults, and I can't imagine it being based in any adult context. It's just too simple, too naïve, and too understated.
Lyrically, it's a sweet song. Misfits in love, I guess. It seems a funny thing to tell someone that you like them because they're a freak. But for someone who knows what they are, it's probably the sweetest compliment possible. After all, not everyone can simply fit in. In fact, often the most interesting, the most worthwhile people, are those who don't fit in so well. Sure, it can be a bit harder to get to know these people, these freaks. But when you do, you discover that it's not freakish at all – it's nothing inherently wrong, or bad about them. Rather, they just have their own style, and their own outlook on life. And that can be beautiful – warts and all.
I love this one. It's a powerful mix of a great (albeit bizarre – but that's half the fun!) guitar riff; a brooding verse and bass; and some brilliant sound-byte lyrics. Then there's the empassioned ending, shouting out the lyrics to an angry guitar – it's powerful, morbidly appealing stuff. From about the third minute, it builds up and up, stronger and louder, as the anger and frustration rises. It's a soundtrack to angst-ridden teenagers, struggling workers, and anyone who is losing their way:
I don't need you telling me how!
Surely, everyone can relate to “I don't think I'm ready yet; I'm not feeling up to it now”. It works in so many contexts – in a deep depression, or fit of laziness, or just in a bad mood. And if you hear a lyric like that while you're really feeling it, it hits pretty hard. It comes though clearly as well, there's always a lull in the music while its sung, with a quiet, vaguely hypnotic guitar accompaniment.
It goes a bit deeper than a bad mood though. It comes from a deep disaster, a really embedded sort of pain. There could be any back story to it really – that's the appeal. Abandoned by a lover; thrown out a workplace; wronged by a friend; a physical accident or injury. Whatever works for the listener – whatever you can relate to. But after a fall, when confidence is shaken, and you just can't face the world: this is your song. It grabs the frustration of not being able to leave the house, the fear of the outside world, the sickening jealousy of people leading happy lives who dare to impose their philosophies onto you. The despairing inevitability of another failure waiting around the corner, “there's some happiness / and my stone face cracks again” All of this comes through for me, and it all builds up into that angry crescendo. Great stuff.
Attention please:
This is brillaint, just brilliant!
It is the musical equivalent of a carried away, slightly crazy teenage love. It's all there! Confusion; delerious happiness; strangeness; joy; a little bit of pain, perhaps. It has a sense of adventure, of development. It has a delightful naiivity, a silly childishness, a bizarre freshness. It has those little moments that make love special; it has a blatent disregard for what anyone else might think. Third verse? What third verse? La la la la seems to do it well enough. After all, somethings you can't put into words. Some things you don't need to. Others, you just can't be bothered beause the love of your life just walked into the room. It is fun and wacky and... well, I suggest you stop reading and start listening.
This makes me smile every time I hear it. And I listen to it quite alot!
“Are you one of the beautiful people? Is your name on the list?” So goes the haunting key lyric of this track. And it is haunting; the kind of question that will stick in anyones mind. Am I beautiful? Do people recognise this? It's a sentiment that will echo for people everywhere. I can certainly relate, and it really makes me think of being back at school, wanting to be popular. Nowadays, I've come to terms with myself a bit more, and understand better the importance of popularity, and friendship. It would be awful nice to be beautiful though...
This is quite a dark track, to me, with its downbeat bass and hollow drumbeat. E's voice drags out the desire for respect, to be part of something. The whole song seems somehow empty, like it's looking up to something better. There is a strong sense of longing here. It's in the lyrics, the vocals, the guitar, and the lonely harmonica signature. In fact, just listen to that harmonica about two minutes into the track. Is that not the lonlinest sound you've ever heard? Of course, this is kind of the point. I reckon there are two types of people, listening to this song. For one type, the freaks, the lyrics will grab you by the throat, and you'll recognise what E is yearning for. For the others, it won't be so profound, and the notion of 'beautiful people' won't be as poignant.
Again, childhood and playground images are brought to mind. Some of the lyrics put a childish spin on things - “walkie talkie” for one, and also the term “beautiful people” There's definitely a naivity about the phrase: placing a strong line between the have's, and have-nots; and perhaps glorying the have's out of proportion. The song resonates with high school politics – where every class has its levels of society. From the 'cool' kids, always laughing and having fun; to the geeks, the rejects, and the troublemakers. If there's a classroom in the world that doesn't have these divides, I have yet to see it. Of course, you can argue that there are such things in the adult world as well – in high society and celebrity circles. The line is both stronger – people on the better side of it are truly untouchable; and weaker – because 'beautiful' isn't really a word that I would put to that world. Eye of the beholder, and all that. But still – for most of us, there is a group of people who we look (or looked) at with longing, and awe, desperate to be able to fit in with that wonderful crowd. Maybe you were that person in school, maybe for you those people are celebrities. I don't doubt that everyone has felt the distinction though, and the desire to be a part of a better group.
This song is filled with that desire. E is a nobody, and wants to be a somebody. He looks at the beautiful people, and wants to be one of them. In the same way that I could watch The O.C, or similar American drama, and think 'I wish my life was that fulfilled'; so E will look up at this peers in school, or the office. It's all captured in the guest list – what a brilliant device to use to symbolise popularity. Those in with the crowd are on the guest list – they've been picked out specially to join these beautiful people. Those not on the list are ignored, disdained, and forgotten. Were you on many guest lists? I know I've never been.
Of course, looking over the song from a distance, it's all incredibly vain. The child-like awe with which E views these people is, well, childish and naive. It's shallow – they're just people too; they simply live life in a different way. “Everyone needs to find someone who cares” - and in those circles, everyone cares! Or at least, so they suggest. But there's a deeper type of caring, and that comes from your own personal guest list. The beautiful people don't even factor in. Years later, E will write about this in a song called Ugly Love, which is on the Blinking Lights Album. But for now, all we can do is acknowledge the slight irony of the song – that there is more to life than a guest list.
I can never get past the first line of this song.
Mamma gripped onto the milkman's hand,
And then she finally gave birth .
Tough to say what the song is about from there. I guess it's about not knowing what is around the corner. The song doesn't grab me though, with its slickly rich bassline. It's a bit... soupy to my mind. That makes no sense to anyone without my brain, I guess, but it's about as eloquantly as I can express it. Sorry, E, but this one is beyond me.
This is an absolutley sweet and beautiful song. From the simple, repetetive guitar - reminiscent of REM's Everybody Hurts - to the gentle hum of the bass and the sweetness of the vocals. It's a tender song, riddled with reserved and sleepy emotion. Like so much of the album, there's a childishness about the lullaby guitar and the high-pitched vocals. A female voice comes through from time to time: I strongly suspect it represents E's sister.
It's taken me a long time to come to writing about this song. That's because it's actually very complex. It seems to me that there are two things going on here, as indicated by the difference in vocals in the verse and chorus. And indeed in the title - this is about a person who is both man and child at once. The verse is sung coldy in E's tired, scratchy voice. It seems to be the part of the man: the grown up. It sees someone in pain, and wants to reach out and help. It's a tender, soft kind of support. He just wants to do what little he can to help a loved one in pain: as so sweetly expressed in the verses. But the chorus has a different tone. E sings higher, in a more child-like, innocent, and hurt voice. In the chorus, E sings that he needs support and help himself. It's the difference between man and child: the man seeks to help others, despite his own pains; the child wants attention and to be held. Within E in this song, the two are fused and mixed.
It's something I've expressed myself a bit, in a poem called Darkness Inside. As much as it's good to help others for other's sake, there is a selfish aspect to it. Especially when you're lonely, I think. When comforting someone else, they put their trust in you. And you give something back to them. And in those shared moments, you get as much love and support as you give. When you become needed like that, you becme fulfilled. And I think at some level, the song is about the childish sense of belonging that comes from a simple embrace. A very basic, very childlike feeling is unlocked within, and the child's voice sings out in joy.
There's a real sadness to the song. The struggle to help another while having a hard time yourself is a strong theme here. The simple struggle of watching a loved one in pain. And something about the female voice... "I'm not happy... I'm not having any fun... I'm tired, why am I tired?" is just filled with fatigue and sadness. It's a little bit heartbreaking. But someone that's soothed by the supporting, loving words of E.