E says his bleak tunes have a bright side. He talks about scary fan letters, bad family vacations, and The Nothing Awards.

by Gil Kaufman

Mark Oliver Everett isn't depressed. He really isn't. The leader of the Eels, a man who calls himself E, remains mystified by his reputation as a mope. Sure, his 1998 album, Electro-Shock Blues had bleak songs about darkness and despondency.But give the guy a break, he was only chronicling a time when, he says, everyone he knew was dying. Of course, the opening gambit on the Eels's new Shootenanny! doesn't change that vibe: "When I was born the doctor said/ There's something wrong inside that baby's head." Maybe there is something to that misanthrope thing.

The disc is lined with characters you wouldn't necessarily want to hang out with, and it has a telling subtitle: "Everybody Knows These Are Rock Hard Times." But beneath the thin layer of anxiety is a sunny pop album for grown-ups who have come to grips with a thought the 40-year-old singer stressed on his 1996 breakthrough hit "Novocaine for the Soul": "Life is hard and so am I/You better give me something so I don't die."

Shootenanny! isthat something, an alternately bluesy and breezy illustration of a guy trying to navigate a confusing life. A warm and fuzzed-out soundtrack helps cut through the misery. E revisits lonely mornings spent waiting for his parents to wake up in the blues pop of "Saturday Morning," a vivid memory song about long, hot summer days full of possibility and adventure. See, he's not all doom and gloom.

Grab your mouse, think nice thoughts, and journey to the center of E's mind. Chatting with VH1, he explained his parallels with Orson Welles, his idea for "The Nothing Awards," and how he felt when his wife told him he just wasn't handsome.

VH1: Your songs are always really personal, is there any topic that's off-limits?

E: Not so far. There were songs I left off Electro-Shock Blues because people at the label thought that album was depressing. I never thought so; I thought it was uplifting. I took some stuff off that one because it didn't have enough to offer the world. It's a healthy thing to purge your soul, but you have to offer something, too.

VH1: Is music your therapy?

E: It serves me on so many levels. On one level, it's therapeutic, but not enough to cure anything. Electro-Shock Blues was therapeutic for other people. That was a bonus.

VH1: Ever get any letters from fans that scared you?

E: Yeesh, yes. While most of my family and friends were dying, I got heartbreaking accounts of people in similar situations. I had letters that would rip your heart out.

VH1: Do you ever get letters from fans who simply miss the boat and don’t get what you mean?

E: I don't get letters like that, but I get reviews like that [laughs]. I do interviews in Europe, and they really seem to respect me there. But I'm convinced they don't know what the songs mean and think I'm a genius because they put more weight on the words than how I meant them.

VH1: What’s one adjective people use to describe you that you wish you could banish?

E: “Depressing.” It's lazy. I got saddled with that from Electro-Shock Blues, which I thought was inaccurate. The songs are not all down, but the ones that are, are usually cathartic or have a bright side to them. There are some that are sad, but that's part of life. I've never been interested in showing one side of life.

VH1: What adjective would you prefer?

E: Sexy.

VH1: If you had to compare your career arc to another musician's, who would it be?

E: The artists that I look up to are Tom Waits, Neil Young, John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Randy Newman. People who just do their thing.

VH1: Your dad was a renowned mathematician. How did he feel about having a musician in the family?

E: I was 19 and just starting out [when he died] and he never spoke with me anyway. I was in the same house with him for 19 years and he barely spoke to me. He was a genius and they don't necessarily make great family men.

VH1: Describe a typical Everett family vacation when you were a kid.

E: I only remember going on one with the whole family; it was to visit a famous physicist in Austin, Texas. My father had to go to some lecture and we all just walked around the campus. It was pretty dull.

VH1: What about the VH1 Fashion Awards-inspired the song "Fashion Awards"?

E: That was such an easy target. I'm more interested in the awards shows that people put a lot of weight on, like the Oscars, where stars get up there and bawl their heads off. Who’s voting for the Oscars? People who make all these sh*tty movies. So, in a way, it's an insult. There goes my film scoring work!

VH1: If you could put together your own award show, what would it be like?

E: The Nothing Awards. An award for the most meaningless awards shows. The only reason I'd ever go to an awards show is to perform because it's great advertising for my music, which according to those around me, I need. We've won MTV awards and Brit awards. I sent an Indian woman to the MTV awards to pick it up, but she got lost. Her horse took a wrong turn.

VH1: "Saturday Morning" is about being up early and bored. What's the lamest thing you did while waiting for everyone else to get up, watch the farm report?

E: Yes! It's about that moment in time where you're like, “F*ck, this will go on forever!” It's all relative when you're eight years old, and 30 minutes is a big chunk of time. A day can seem like a whole summer at that point. I was so bored so much of the time. I grew up in Virginia, where everyone was either a drug addict or redneck. Even at that age I was being influenced by those powers. When I was 14, I got arrested for stealing my parents’ car and charges were pressed. I got kicked out of school twice in the ninth grade.

VH1: What shows do you remember watching?

E: Lancelot Link - Secret Chimp. At the end of every episode he'd do a tune with the Evolution Revolution. We haven't covered any of those songs, but it's only a matter of time.

VH1: I assume "Restraining Order Blues" isn't getting you many dates? What inspired that?

E: I'm happy to say that it's not an autobiographical song, but if you sing in the first person, everyone will think it's autobiographical, which is a compliment to a writer.

VH1: What's the most hurtful thing a girl has said while dumping you?

E: My life is so backwards. I get the hurtful comments at the beginning of the relationship. One of the first things my wife said to me was, “You're not beautiful.” That would be pretty hurtful when you were breaking up, but for some reason I found it exciting at the beginning. And yes, I'm still married to her. Years later, she clarified and tried to act like it was not as bad as it sounded. She meant I was not conventionally handsome. Then, there was the girl who broke up with me because I didn't have a vagina. That hurt.

VH1: What would you be doing if your music didn't work out?

E: I used to work at gas stations and I liked that. I was a substitute teacher, which is basically a babysitter. Often I fantasize about working at a community center so I could have less [responsibility] on my shoulders. I never take vacations. As soon as I'm home from a tour, I'm already working on the next album. When I drive to rehearsals for tours, I'm listening to songs and trying to figure out what should be on the next album. It's sort of like torture. The other day I was watching a movie and relaxing and in the middle I had to stop and write a song. It's a pain in the ass because I didn't want to be bothered. If didn't [write the song], though, I would go insane.

VH1: Finish this sentence, "E was the blank of his generation."

E: The Orson Welles of alternative music. And Shootenanny was clearly his Citizen Kane. Someone has to say it and I don't want to wait anymore.