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National Features >
Broward-Palm Beach New Times
For Florida's sole remaining sex surrogate, love is a many splintered thing.
By Michael J. Mooney
City Pages
It's not just giant companies cashing in on America's defense industry.
By Jeff Severns Guntzel
The Pitch
How a throwaway idea at the Barkley ad agency became the "Sonic Guys."
By Justin Kendall
Houston Press
A diner's guide to Texas's oldest Mexican restaurants.
By Robb Walsh
Eels
Published on April 02, 2008
Resurrected by soundtrack contributions to Scrubs and Shrek, Mark Everett, the Eels' songwriter and principal member, has found second life in big business's attempt to camouflage itself in an indie veneer. Is he a rook or a pawn? A dogging question to be sure. But there is sincerity lurking in Everett's oeuvre. His seminal release, Electro-Shock Blues, which was inspired by an array of personal tragedies, throbs with an earnest agony that soaks every shake of his tambourine, and though his career smacks more and more of aspartame as it rolls ceaselessly on, it's spiked with enough vulnerability to make you forget he's to blame for vapid, catchy hits like "Novocaine for Your Soul." In an age that saw Rage Against the Machine shill for Taco Bell, there's no sense in holding Everett's comparably modest corporate rap sheet against him. Every so often, the suits almost get it right.
Mon., April 7, 8 p.m., 2008