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We’re
electric: Eels at Northern Lights. Photo: Joe Putrock
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Beautiful
Freaks
By John Brodeur
Eels
Northern
Lights, Nov. 1
As I was pulling into the parking lot at Northern Lights on
Saturday night, I became confused by the surprising lack of
vehicles. Where the hell was everyone? “Maybe they all carpooled,”
my friend suggested. Unfortunately, this was not the case.
A disturbingly small crowd of around 200 people showed up
for the Eels’ first—and probably last, considering the turnout—Capital
Region appearance, and that’s just too bad for those of you
who missed it. Simply put, the Eels put on one of the best
shows this area has seen in a long time.
On record, the enigmatic E (née Mark Oliver Everett) decorates
his quirky little songs with horn ensembles, toy pianos and
whatever else he has laying around the studio. Live, such
adornments were jettisoned in favor of a comparatively spartan
lineup of two guitars, bass and drums. Quite honestly, this
band had me at “hello.” E’s touring band—guitarist Chet Atkins
III, bassist Koool G Murder and drummer Puddin’—took the stage
wearing matching red prison work suits and kicked off with
the slow, stomping riff from “All in a Day’s Work” (from this
year’s Shootenanny! LP). After a few minutes, E emerged
from the confines of a large road case at the foot of the
stage, harmonica and microphone in hand—easily the most unusual
and comical entrance I’ve seen at a rock show thus far. From
there, the band didn’t let up or speak a word for a solid
30 minutes, kicking out rollicking versions of “My Beloved
Monster” (from their 1996 debut, Beautiful Freak),
singles “Saturday Morning” and “Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues,”
and—who could have seen this coming?—covers of “I’m a Loser”
and “Company Store” that probably went way over some of the
audience members’ head—but, for those in the know, it was
a thrill. The Eels rocked and swung and then rocked some more,
often sounding like an overdriven version of an old Chuck
Berry or Bo Diddley record.
E was a surprisingly energetic and extremely funny frontman,
jumping about the stage and aping every clichéd rock- guitar
pose in the book. His interaction with and direction of the
other band members was a joy to behold, giving their performance
a feeling of rehearsed spontaneity, if that’s possible. Just
when it felt like they were getting loose around mid-set,
they got their Who on and pounded home versions of “Souljacker
Part 1,” “Last Stop: This Town” and the 1996 modern-rock hit
“Novocaine for the Soul.” Because they delivered the bulk
of the songs with an iron fist, some of their gentler material
was rendered nearly unrecognizable, but that’s what made the
show so much fun. They were rocking the living daylights out
of this little town, and we loved every minute of it.
After the main set, the Eels returned to the stage for not
one, not two, but three encores, which was more than
ample. But here’s the kicker: After the houselights came up
and half the crowd had left the building, the band returned
for a fourth time to play a note-perfect version of Willie
Nelson’s “Whiskey River.” Whiskey Fucking River. And you guys
missed it. Your loss.
I don’t really have the room to talk about opening act MC
Honky in much detail, but I will say this: The media have
speculated that Honky is actually E in disguise, and, after
seeing his short opening set and watching the two men interact
in person, I’m still uncertain whether or not they’re one
and the same.
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