Review Summary: Sex, werewolves, and true love; Mark Oliver Everett moves beyond his past into a future remarkably like the past of rock and roll.
Mark Oliver Everett doesn't mess around much. When he decides to be autobiographical, we get the truly harrowing "Electroshock Blues" and the life spanning, gorgeous opus "Blinking Lights and Other Revelations." When "E" is feeling playful, we get the rocking Souljacker and the solidly weird Shootenanny!, both maligned works of great complexity. And when Everett is playing a character, we get an album completely different than any he has produced before.
Everett chose to play this album as a werewolf, of sorts. This character is the man who changes his mood frequently, who is incapable of consistency. Hombre Lobo is the personification of a supremely unconfidant man who wants the love of a particular woman, but cannot convince her. His form changes from the wildly sexual wolf-man of the Fresh Blood to the delicate lover of The Look You Give That Guy. However, throughout the album, Everett seems to be telling you this is just the guy selling you tickets at the movie theater who stares a little too hard. This is all his fantasy, never acted, never forgotten. She will be in his mind forever, both in his fantasies and his tenderest dreams.
The sound of the album is resolutely lo-fi. I can't help but want to listen to it on vinyl, right after an early Stones album. Everett plays the sexualized rocker, hearkening back to a time when all the songs were about getting down and dirty. Twist and Shout, anyone? This premise is both what gives the album its stability, and its only flaw; Everett's gnarled smoker's croon seems to flat and detached at times, lacking the immediacy of his muses on this album. Mick Jagger was raw and primal; Everett is prone to overthinking. Then again, Mick could never sum up the feelings of every nerd staring at a beautiful girl from the kitchen of McDonald's.
It is worth noting that E is no longer a young man. This may be a step beyond his autobiographical albums detailing past trauma, but a childhood spent listening to old rock and roll looms over this album. Critics couldn't categorize earlier Eels albums without referring to Beck; the touchstones for this are much older. As such, it plays like a full album. Do yourself a favor; buy the physical album and put it on the record player. Smell it first. Hombre Lobo is a consistent album in the way most are not; the tracks all stand out, when the mood is right. If you must, just throw Fresh Blood and In My Dreams on your Ipod, but you are missing out. This is an album that cries out for the flip in the middle.
