The eels latest album, Electro-Shock Blues, ruminated on the depression that 
haunted frontman E (nee Mark Everett) after the death of several loved ones.  
The follow-up, Daisies Of The Galaxy (DreamWorks), is a remarkably slap-happy 
affair.  Sitting in a diner, about to discuss this new work, E listens as our 
waitress explains the establishment's toast policy: one slice at a time.  
"See, we start ya off with one, then we build up," she says.  E scratches his 
goateed chin and you can see the wheels turning-there could be and eels song 
in there somewhere.
    Were you worried that your depression might never end?
    I wasn't really thinking of it like that.  But I guess you do kinda feel 
like you're drowning in it.  I was really happy making Daises Of The Galaxy.  
Then when I finished it, I got depressed again.  I've just recently bounced 
back from it, which is good, since it's time to go out and play these songs.  
For a long time, I felt like "Jesus!  I can't play all these upbeat songs 
because I'm really not in that same frame of mind anymore."  See, I'm really 
happy when I'm making something.  Daisies Of The Galaxy was like a new 
beginning for me, but I think what happened was, I was eventually left alone 
with my thoughts, and suddenly I didn't have anything to distract me.  So I 
just had to… deal with it.  And I got really, really depressed.  I'm much 
better now.
Do you finally have some sort of closure?
Yeah.  I felt like I'd gone to my last funeral for a while.  Uh, hopefully.  
I don't think there are any more immediate possibilities.  Hopefully, I won't 
be going to yours any time soon.
Thanks.  But some folks might throw a party once I'm six feet under.
Well, that's what I wanted this record to be, a party more than a funeral.  
This record definitely picks up where Electro-Shock Blues left off.  It's 
very much a sequel to that one, and that one ended on a positive note.  But 
there are a couple of serious songs, like "Estate Sale."  I could've written 
a whole other album about "Estate Sale," because after my mother passed away, 
I had to go back-in the middle of making this record-to clean out my family's 
house in Virginia.  Which was, of course, a horrific experience.  It was the 
house I'd grown up in since I was two.
When did you notice your output was turning more playful?
I kinda went into Daisies Of The Galaxy with that intention.  I went down to 
my basement every day and felt this sense of a new beginning, and I wanted to 
challenge myself to write some songs to fit that.  For my own sanity, you 
know.  And it was a big challenge-a happy-sounding song is much harder to 
write than a sad-sounding song.
But cuts like "Flyswatter" and "I Like Birds" are some of your wackiest ever, 
mainly because you're suddenly aware of life's minutiae again.
I built this structure in the back yard that I call "The Hut."  And I go out 
and meditate in it, and there's always wildlife-I'm right in the middle of 
the city, but I've got possums and raccoons and squirrels and trees with 
fruit growing.  I've found that if I go there every day, it definitely pulls 
me back into what's important.
"Flyswatter" lists all your indoor pals in the chorus: "Field mice, head 
lice, spiders in the kitchen…"
My house is the all-time spider farm.  That's one thing I have no shortage 
of-spiders.  Everywhere I turn, on a daily basis, I walk through a spider 
web.  I can tell you what they taste like-that's how intimate I am with 
spiders.  And field mice?  I've got them too.  But at least my cat can take 
care of them.  I mean, I've got nothing against those little mice-I like 
them.  But I just couldn't sleep at night, so I let the cat start killing 
them.  I make him do all my dirty work-I've got bigger fish to kill.
Mice gone; E happy?
I'm happier.  I'm pointing in the direction of happiness.