HEARTBREAK KID
by Natalie Nichols

Singer Eleni Mandell finds inspiration in musical community and mournful tales of cruel love

Eleni Mandell croons about boys who’ve done her wrong and boys who’ve passed her by, in tunes tailor-made for lovers of a more genteel pop era. Fist-pumping anthems are definitely not her thing, so you wouldn’t exactly expect her to have gotten caught up in the excitement last month when the Boston Red Sox beat the New York Yankees to clinch the American League title before winning the World Series. However, the singer-songwriter really had no choice.

“We played in Boston during the last game of the finals, so there were, like, 10 people there,” recalls the native Angeleno. “And that’s fine. I can enjoy a 10-person show. But when they won, and people were mobbing the streets and pounding on the windows while I was singing my heartfelt, weepy songs, I was like – ah, yes, paying the dues again.”

Sitting at a tiny table on the sunny sidewalk outside a small Los Feliz café, Mandell lets out a low, sexy chuckle that echoes her sultry singing voice. “But the next day? I went to Montreal, and the show was sold out, 300 to 400 people. It’s kind of nice to continually have that contrast. It makes you really appreciate the good times.”

For the past six years, Mandell has had many reasons to count her blessings. As a fledgling artist in the late ’90s, she caught the attention of such L.A. heroes as musician/producer Jon Brion and now-deceased roots-rocker Chuck E. Weiss. After putting out her self-released 1998 collection, Wishbone, she quickly garnered local attention and praise, with critics comparing her to such influences as X and Tom Waits, as well as contemporary PJ Harvey. Her music mixed folk, jazz, blues, country, and rock for an old-fashioned effect that could still fit into a rock context when she wanted it to, and her lyrics limned mournful tales of cruel love. Since her 2000 follow-up, Thrill, she’s released an album every year, varying the mix of styles but retaining that core sense of eternal heartbreak, gorgeously lamented.

She established her niche and dug in, gaining ground both locally and in such far-flung places as Kansas City, Quebec, and Europe. Mandell’s even been lucky enough to have a fan, Ian Pearson, start a record label, Zedtone, to ensure she had a place to put out her work. But this year, several months before the June release of her current Afternoon – which she describes as “my ’60s soul record” – she found herself doubting her path. It all started in January, when she developed pneumonia while touring back East.

“We were loading gear in a blizzard, in and out of the cold, exhausted, and all of that,” she recalls. “Then I just finally really couldn’t stand up.” She returned to Los Angeles with a 104-degree fever. “I was sick for two weeks,” she says. “I felt a little sorry for myself. Like, I’ve given music everything I have – money, sweat, blood, tears – and all I got was pneumonia?” She laughs ruefully. “I was trying to figure out if it was worth it or not.” Then, she says, Hubert Selby died. “I read a long quote of his about art and why it is worth it. That sort of snapped me out of it, and made me feel like it doesn’t matter if you get rewarded by the general public, it’s [about] the self-satisfaction and the community you create around you.”

That was less a revelation than a rediscovery of what had always mattered to Mandell: her interaction with other artists. Indeed, one of the gigs she’d played in January was a tribute to Waits, on a bill with veteran bluesman John Hammond. “Meeting him was the best part about it,” she says. “Any time I meet anyone in the music business, I say, ‘Have you ever met Bob Dylan?’ And, of course, John Hammond knew him. We ended up singing Dylan songs backstage, harmonizing, and him playing guitar. Those moments definitely keep me going.”

It’s not just encounters with famous artists or her idols that she cherishes, however, but also the variety of fine players she’s worked with over the years, including X drummer DJ Bonebrake, Rasputina cellist Melora Creager, local percussion master Danny Frankel, and veteran musician Tony Gilkyson, who produced her twangy 2003 torch album Country for True Lovers. Most of all, she loves her ace touring band, guitarist Joshua Grange, bassist Ryan Feves, and drummer Kevin Fitzgerald. “I respect them so much, and the fact that they respect me as well is really gratifying,” she says.

Afternoon is the first album they recorded as a group, and the bond they formed on the road carried over into the studio. “It was definitely different than, ‘OK, at three o’clock, the clarinet player’s gonna show up,’” she says. “We were sort of all in it together.”

The artfully spare tunes evoke hazy fever dreams of yearning and reminiscence. The minimal, whispery “American Boy” – which will be used in an episode of ABC’s high-school drama Life as We Know It – leaves an impression of comfort and hope, while the bluesy “Dangerous” dangles a steamy come-on, and the plaintive “I’ve Been Fooled” resonates with tearjerking pain. Though carefully crafted, the tracks retain a rawness of emotion that makes you want to pat her on the shoulder and tell her to steer clear of these bad boys, already.

“Fortunately or unfortunately, I’ve known some really intense specific characters,” says Mandell with a smile. “Mostly I think I’ve been sort of lucky to know these people who are really different from other people. Sometimes it really sucks.” She laughs. “But then, you’re like, ‘But I will do my very best to make money off of your horrible behavior.’”

Such numbers as the warbled lament “Can’t You See I’m Soulful” and the wry other-woman plea “Afternoon” teeter on the brink of desperation, but Mandell never sounds pathetic. She fills each note with an introverted sense of burning beneath the surface – giving notice to those who’d do her wrong that they’ve missed out on something they never could see.

“I always hope there’s a subtlety to it, because I don’t really like overt sexuality, like Christina Aguilera dressed like a streetwalker,” Mandell says. “I don’t really understand why that’s necessary.” Not that she’s opposed to looking sexy – on the cover of Thrill she appears to be falling into the L.A. skyline, clad in a strappy, ruffled vintage leotard and fishnets, and on Afternoon she floats in a sapphire pool, wearing a diaphonous gold nightie and a meaningful gaze.

These images tend to reinforce the musical persona of a woman utterly compelled by dark attractions, somewhat adrift in the push-pull of unpredictable amour. Yet, while Mandell may project vulnerability or availability, it never quite seems like these experiences have broken her. And lately, the attraction has worn thin.
“I’m not really inspired by these scoundrel types anymore,” she says with another light, sultry chuckle. “I actually find them sort of boring. I’ve started writing about other real people I know, like friends of mine I’ve only had really positive experiences with, and I’m finding those equally fun to write about. And I don’t have to, like, go out with the wrong person for two years.”

Eleni Mandell performs Tue. at Spaceland, 1717 Silver Lake Blvd., Silver Lake, at 10 p.m. (213) 833-2843 or Clubspaceland.com