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By Kelsey McConnell

Daily Bruin Contributor

Holding his mouth like that of a toothless old man, the Eels’ Zen-calm frontman, E, played everyone in his shoulder-to-shoulder audience a little piece of “the zone.”

The Sunday night crowd at the Roxy was pervaded by an unintended lack of hipness. After the longest sound check in history, led by a roadie resembling all the members of ZZ Top, the audience uttered a collective squeal of anticipation. The bass heavy beginning of “Going to Your Funeral” rocked them hard, from the depths of their internal organs to the tops of their shaggy heads.

There were the jumpers, the rockers, the swayers, a guy in a heinous fleece hat and a few silent onlookers. E, garbage-man chic in his blue coveralls and black beanie, gave no words of introduction as “Going to Your Funeral” melted into “Elizabeth on the Bathroom Floor” and then into a rocking cover of “Get Your Freak On.” Butch looked disturbingly natural as he uttered the words “holla holla” with a passion that let audience members know he meant it.

After a few songs, the boys put down their instruments and E took the time to chat with the audience. As members of the crowd shouted whatever inane professions of love jumped out of their mouths, E held up a hand saying, “Whatever you have to say, say it and get it all out.” Freed by the power of E, a voice in the back shouted, “Play ‘Novocaine for the Soul.’” E, smirking, responded, “And say it all at once so you drown that guy out.”

Filling the Roxy with sound once again, the Eels played songs off all of their albums, including the freaky tune “Souljacker” and the pleading “I Write the B-Sides” both from their newest CD awaiting American release.

For a band whose look is purely utilitarian – beside a guitarist’s burgeoning mohawk – the Eels managed to crank out tremendously resonant songs. All the best elements of rhythm and instrumentation were alive and well tune after tune. Their live delivery added a healthy dose of rock to their more produced recorded sound.

E’s proclamation, “Butch, bring out your mistress, Lady Rock and let’s satisfy her the only way we know how,” drove the band to dig even deeper into the bowels of rock. If the lyrics weren’t so depressing, the fervor with which the songs were played could have riled listeners into an anger worthy of a punk show. Instead, the audience just did a lot of hair shaking.

One high point of the evening was Butch’s solo performance of the heart-breaking ballad, “I am a Sad Clown.” Dressed in a dapper, black sleeveless shirt and matching black cotton shorts, and clutching a tasteful, straw cowboy hat, Butch hit the high notes in “I am a sad clown, my smile is upside down.”

After two encores, the Eels closed with “Mr. E’s Beautiful Blues.” And as the last of the stage’s colored lights fluttered and Butch waved good-bye with his hat, E shuffled off the stage leaving an audience baptized by the Eels’ spirit and so stoked by the rockability of the night that the rain falling outside the Roxy didn’t even feel cold.