Pitchfork

The big irony of the Eels career is that, while they hooked their biggest (and only U.S.) hit on the fading coattails of "alternative rock" ("Novacaine for the Soul", from 1996) and would be forever remembered for that one-dimensional wonder, their highest achievement to many of their fans and critics is one album, meant to absorbed as a whole: Electro-Shock Blues, heading the pack of other decidedly album-rock triumphs like Daisies of the Galaxy and the double album Blinking Lights and Other Revelations. The Eels don't have miles of cred here in their home country, and that's probably down to timing as much as anything else-- on their debut album, Beautiful Freak, they treated grunge as another trendy accoutrement, but did the same with Pure Moods keyboards, novelty rock, hip-hop, cocktail jazz, and any style in arm's reach. Don't we usually praise acts with such omnivorous ears?

The problem was that, despite a propensity for switching and layering instruments, the early songs never dug very deep. "Novocaine" and follow-ups like "Susan's House" threw every texture against the blank wall of frontman Mark Oliver Everett's deadpan delivery in the hopes that something would stick. "Your Lucky Day in Hell" goes for a simple juxtaposition-- Everett's Steven Wright-esque recounting of woe against a slinky spy-music backdrop-- and ages best because of it. This is not to say Everett can't write a hit (the band has scored quite a few in the UK), but maybe that he's pushed himself into contexts that belie his strengths. Before the Eels, he recorded two albums of precious one-man twee known as simply "E", often using toy-like instruments. After Beautiful Freak and some extremely difficult personal circumstances that followed, he returned to those instincts. His "edgy" observations were far from trenchant, evidenced by the supposedly-seedy suburbia of early single "Susan's House" or even the more layered "Cancer for the Cure" (a signature single that only appears on the DVD supplement, oddly). Even if the latter honed their mixed musical formula, the lyrics were leaden and the concept hardly novel to begin with. But there's nothing wrong with playing it straight, and the E who stared down personal tragedy on Electro-Shock Blues started writing songs that shone with a weary but genuine optimism in "3 Speed" and "Last Stop: This Town". The tracks selected from this much-loved and critically respected period of the Eels are, surprise surprise, arguably their most striking singles.

Follow-up Daisies of the Galaxy marked a transitional and seemingly serene period for Everett and the band, and they released some of his most somber tracks like "It's a Motherfucker" alongside cheery, percussive pop like "Flyswatter" and the unflappable "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues", both among the catchiest singles they'd ever released. But the band's path forward almost immediately began to muddle: Supposedly, Everett found "Beautiful Blues" too commercial, therefore hiding it as an unlisted track on Daisies, but nonetheless releasing it as a single and allowing it to grace various film soundtracks. Moreover, the band quickly returned to playing up the quirk with Souljacker, including the title track, and returning to the same forced rocking and pseudo-shocking preoccupations of their early career.

Still, as the tracks progress chronologically, the band's growth is evident. "Saturday Morning" returns to the topic of childhood nostalgia, certainly a comfort zone for Everett, (although the deeper voice he affects is somewhat awkward), and later songs with grab-bag instrumentation like "Fresh Feeling" and "Trouble with Dreams" progress in much more natural and occasionally surprising ways than the band's early singles. Among the previously unreleased additions to the set is a slightly fussier remix of the teary "Climbing Up to The Moon" by chronic collaborator Jon Brion (who contributed to Electro-Shock Blues), and a cover of "Get Ur Freak on" that's too horrid to recount-- recognizing a song's genius is not the same as translating it in an interesting or competent way. (If they'd included the band's more earnest take on "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover" instead, I wouldn't be complaining, but what can you do.)

As for Useless Trinkets, to say it's for fans only is an understatement; this isn't even the first B-sides compilation the band has put out. It's exhaustive, certainly, but it's a pretty good look at the minor treasures that the Eels faithful have been privileged to throughout the years. Among the two discs, there's several preciously-delivered downers like "Fucker", some remixes that should have stayed in the 90s (Michael Simpsons's remix of "Your Lucky Day in Hell" for starters, though the Moog Cookbook version of "Novocaine" is grade-A kitsch), and some playful live readings of songs like "Hospital Food", showing off their humorous side-- sort of corny, sure, but also breathing a lot of life into the group. This is often courtesy of now-departed drummer Jonathan "Butch" Norton, the man behind their sillier live digressions like "Vice President Fruitley", included on the first disc. The cover versions are plenty, from as current as Magnapop's lone hit "Open the Door" (from the Electro-Shock Blues era, when the band's humor could get none more black) to oldies like "Dark End of the Street" and "Can't Help Falling in Love With You", showing the band's surprising knack for standards-- not to mention the two Prince covers, the latter of which is a string-laden version "I Could Never Take the Place of Your Man" that segues into an orchestral take on "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues".

The covers just reinforce that Everett-- or "E," Mr. E, MC Honky, whomever-- is both more tasteful than he's often given credit for, and often unable to take those tastes anywhere original or unexpected. That's the frustrating duality that exists in even the Eels' best singles, and maybe why there's an air of undelivered potential on this, the portentously titled "Vol. 1" of their hits. You can glean the Eels' M.O. from these songs, but picking democratically from a career with some serious peaks and valleys makes for a set that sounds like a frustrated and failed novelty act. Until you listen to one of their records in full, you'd never understand how they've built the cult status that justifies these kinds of releases.