Aural Fixations

MARK EITZEL
The Invisible Man (Matador)
Eitzel Superhits International (Mark Eitzel)
Few artists are as admired as songwriter Mark Eitzel with as little to show for it. A critic's darling with a small but devoted fan base, the former leader of American Music Club has never found the commercial or industry success to match his accolades and influence. No musician has made as much of a career out of translating his own pain into art as Eitzel. Even if a song isn't strictly autobiographical, or buries its literal meaning under layers of metaphor, the true emotion behind each lyric, every chord, every vocal crack and moan can't be denied. Maybe that's the problem. In a world of popular culture increasingly dominated by slick, commercial product that's so shallow it makes a wading pool seem like a bottomless pit, no one wants to face the emotional truths with which Eitzel consistently wrestles. He's been accused of being deliberately depressing, but he's merely dealing with his own struggles in song, confident that other people will empathize. Those who do become his fans for life. Those who don't—well, who's to say if they're truly shallow or if they just don't want to admit to feeling the same things?

Regardless of the reasons, Eitzel's limited appeal makes it difficult for him to sell records, and thus recording contracts can be elusive. Two things have resulted in this. One is that he's now in the position to make records at his own pace, using his own tools and artistic vision, without the corporate interference that occasionally plagued previous solo efforts and AMC records. The other is that it's taken four years to arrange the release of his latest album The Invisible Man. Performed and recorded mostly by Eitzel at home on ProTools, his fifth solo record (sixth if you count the ultra-rare self-released set of demos, Lovers Leap USA) contains an exceptionally strong set of 13 new tunes. Reflecting its hard-drive origins, the record is powered by skittering electronics, with keyboard sounds providing most of the textures instead of guitars. It's a sound vaguely reminiscent of his second album 60 Watt Silver Lining, except that the arrangements and synth noises never resolve into the kind of easy-listening melodies with which Eitzel experimented on that record. The percolating percussion patterns never seem to quite match the changes, and queasy whooshes and blurbs reflect the unease found in the songs themselves. There are strong melodies here, but they take a bit of effort and close attention to fully appreciate.

Loss and self-loathing are, as usual, the overriding themes, and Eitzel once again finds numerous original ways to express them. He begs a lover's indulgence in "Can You See?," looks back at a one-night stand in "Steve I Always Knew" and pays tribute to Jeff Buckley with "To the Sea." The dense, poetic word clusters of "Shine," "Sleep" and "The Boy With the Hammer" subtlely reveal a state of mind obsessed with finding the meaning behind a lost opportunity or a graceless exit. When he steps out from behind the verbiage to express something as simple as "I'd give anything to be where you are" it's all the more effective. Perhaps the most engaging aspect of the songs is Eitzel's powerful performance. Always a moving singer, here he shows more breadth and control than ever before, giving the songs a straightforward emotional punch that belies the craft and sweat that went into their construction. When he sings "I don't know if I will ever love again" in "Bitterness," you believe him without question. Fortunately, the morose mood enveloping the album is lifted by the last track, the catchy, slyly goofy "Proclaim Your Joy." Contrary to popular belief, Eitzel is not all gloom, and "Joy" demonstrates that he's perfectly comfortable smiling as weeping. Whether this track and the record's shimmering electronic textures attract the wider audience Eitzel deserves remains to be seen. Regardless, The Invisible Man is a high point in a career more often stunning than not.

Eitzel Superhits International is a set of professionally recorded demos sold only at shows. His band at the time included his ex-AMC bandmate Vudi on guitar, so this album is more than a little reminiscent of his former group. There's an austerity to these ten tracks, with sparse bass/drums/electric piano arrangements leaving plenty of empty space for Eitzel to croon and strum and Vudi to work his noisy magic. The tunes, all previously unissued, are as strong as anything he's ever done. "1000 Miles," "Highway 40" and "Hold Me" may be explorations of bitterness and despair, but they're catchy, melodic excursions. "The Man With the Hole in His Foot" thrills with its patented Vudi feedback coda, while "Come In" and "Charm School" layer their wordy treatises on love and human behavior over R&B-inflected grooves. Eitzel continues his love/hate waltz with celebrity in "Liberace and His Relationship to the 20th Century." There's not a weak song in the bunch, and it's astonishing that these demos failed to arouse industry interest. Fans would behoove themselves to carry extra money to his gigs in order to snap this up.

Eitzel may seem to wallow in despair, but he does so only to understand the pain that helps build a person's life. He knows well enough that pain never last forever and that which does not kill him makes him stronger. It's a message he's spent a long, fruitful career communicating, and these records prove that he's as good as it as he's ever been. Mark Eitzel may be the world's foremost expert at turning pain into beauty. Michael Toland

For fans of: Joseph Arthur, David Gray, Mike Johnson