The Freak Show

"Squeal piggies, squeal!!!" cackles the old man from his rocking chair on the porch, a double-barrelled shotgun lain over his knee and a pipe hanging from his heavily bearded lips. He laughs a long, wheezy, pipe-tobacco addled laugh and regards me and Ern, sat by the Oldsmobile, looking on and wondering why the hell we'd got ourselves into this mess in the first place.

"Er no," I reply, trying not to sound too English, "We're trying to find a petrol station..."

It's at this point that Ern realises that he still has his hand on the vacuum cleaner...
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The album sees yet another new direction for the ever evolving eels, a band consisting of mastermind singer-songwriter Mark "E" Everett (or E, as he's usually known) and drummer Butch. On "Souljacker" they're ably assisted by a man called John Parish (Described in the sleeve as "A proper Englishman") in producing music that is "Biblical" in its rockingness, as the eels try a new kind of direction - the very scary one. Slipknot are obviously quite scary chaps, but they've never grown a beard that monkeys could nest in and dressed up as the Unabomber have they? That's what E did for this album. Oh and he drove a tractor too, and released as a first single, a growling, naggingly incessant, throbbing rock beast called, Souljacker Part 1 which sounds like a gang of psychotic hill-billies having a barbecue party with you as the starter. It's even got references to incest in it, its that f*cked up - "Sisters' brothers make better lovers/ Family affair down under the covers." Really this is the song that specifically talks about the mystical Souljacker - the serial killer who steals souls - and the sudden, cataclysmic change from the nagging verses to the explosive chorus yell of "Oh yeah!" sounds like a psychotic killing spree. From the outset, it became obvious that the eels were back in business, and that E hadn't become any less twisted as a result of "Daisies Of The Galaxy" and its more happy-go-lucky leanings.

It was agreed that a car would be required before we grabbed our first soul, and our first genuine southern fried chicken. We got directions off a lonely old drunk standing at the bus-stop and alarmingly claiming to be Bob Dylan. On second thoughts it probably was. Bus Stop Boxer tells the tale of a strange character at the bus-stop, with a bone to pick with the world, who threatens, intimidates and otherwise beats up people queuing for the bus. This time the tone is a lot more subdued, and extremely melancholy; we instantly feel sorry for the Bus Stop Boxer, despite the fact he's threatening to beat the crap out of us. Once we found the car-lot, we were approached by a fat Texan in a stetson, just like in the movies, and he preceded to show around his used cars, much like an American version of Frank Butcher, Eastenders' used car impresario. Ernie and I decided that there was only one car to cruise around America in - the Oldsmobile 98 (Because the 98 O is bullet-proof). Our Texan car dealer rubbed his hands and licked his lips: "That'll be $400 for the day sir..." At once I could see that we had a slight problem - I wasn't carrying $400, and I certainly wasn't coughing up such an extortionate price for one days worth of driving, not including the petrol. Ernie and I looked at each other and then at the vacuum cleaner and came to a mutual understanding.

"Ya don't drink. That'd make you some kind of queer-boy Well me and ma pardner don't like you and the grey guy... hey, where's he gone?" The red-neck seemed slightly perturbed for a second, as his tiny brain processed the new information. This look swiftly changed into one of pure agitation. "Not since ma days over in Texas sir," he said enigmatically, and promptly keeled over. Souljackers 2, Alabama 0.