Although he's just approaching his 40th birthday, Mark Oliver Everett (a.k.a. E) has already spent much of his musical career grappling with age, decay, and mortality. First working solo on albums like A Man Called (E), and now with his manic-depressive L.A. hurdy-gurdy Eels, E has established a dingy techno-punk cabaret sound through which he presents moving slice-of-life vignettes and downcast "what does it matter, we're all going to die" harangues. The style reached its apotheosis on Eels' bleakly beautiful 1998 album Electro-Shock Blues. After that, E's vision clouded somewhat on 2000's spotty Daisies Of The Galaxy, but he regained focus on the subsequent live document Oh What A Beautiful Morning, which recast some of the group's bitterest ballads as jauntily orchestrated ditties. Eels carries that mood forth on Souljacker, the group's most spirited and rock-oriented record to date. The romping arrangements center on the interplay of gutter-guitar sting and delicate electronic tinkle, mingled with sardonic E lyrics about "this world of shit" and how "life ain't pretty for a dog-faced boy." Eels has always been able to knock out crowd-pleasing pop songs like "Novocaine For The Soul" and "Mr. E's Beautiful Blues," but on Souljacker, it tries harder than ever to connect broadly, while maintaining its fundamental Eels-ness. This shows most splendidly on "Woman Driving, Man Sleeping," which has E rasping pensively about the specific image of the song's title, while in the background, light percussion, strummed acoustic guitar, and synthesized strings create the languid atmosphere of a darkened freeway. Also fine are the swaying "Fresh Feeling" (about the first flush of love), the supple and cinematic "Bus Stop Boxer" (about a looming violent threat), the chugging "Jungle Telegraph" (about the lengths to which a runaway will go), and the definitive Eels ballad, "World Of Shit." As always, E pushes too far into the crude with abrasive and ironic screechers like "Teenage Witch" and the title track, but that may just be the price paid for access to a punky love song as indispensable as Souljacker's concluding "What Is This Note?" Like the best Eels songs, it starts in fury and ends in reverie.