Within minutes of commencing my conversation with Mark Everett – Eels mastermind, film-score composer, blues revivalist, sardonic social commentator and all round 21st century renaissance man – it becomes depressingly obvious that this is going to be one of those interviews. Even as we’re talking (or rather, even as I’m yammering away somewhat uncomfortably, whilst E offers the occasional perfunctory utterance by way of response), I’m already mentally filing this piece in the archive section marked, "Tentative Interviews With Media-Wary Alt.Rock Bands."

But, happily, once we’ve got the pantomime exchanges out of the way, E opens up and discusses everything from his collaborations with Wim Wenders and Peter Buck, to his first film score (the soon to be released Levity), and his involvement with big-beat/lounge music experimentalist, MC Honky (widely thought to be E himself operating under a pseudonym). However, first I enquire how about E feels over once again subjecting himself to the interview treadmill.

"This is in someways the most difficult time," E answers, a degree of urgency noticeably entering his voice. "When your record first comes out, you have to hear what everybody thinks about it, which means all those lazy journalistic opinions. Like, ‘Here’s the depressed guy’s latest record’ – this is all it adds up to. You’re just on this interminable promotional merry-go-round, and for me, this is really the worst part of it all.

"It’s such a sign of our times that certain bands get so clearly labelled with this one, all encompassing adjective, ‘depressing’. It’s almost as if it’s inconceivable that they could make music which inspires any other emotional response. Obviously, there’s a lot more to, say, Radiohead than just depression. Basically, all these bands are assigned this incredibly reductive catch-all tag, and when it’s time to write a new article about them in twelve months time, people just look them up on the internet and find out what was written about them last year. They then formulate the same half-baked theories and ask the same tired old questions based on the extant articles, and so this vicious circle just goes on and on."

Does E ever feel that an acute contrast exists between what the American music industry would ideally like Eels to be – credible-yet-marketable in the manner of R.E.M. circa Automatic For The People), and the maverick, highly individualistic outfit the band are in reality?

"That friction is always there," sighs E. "People are always trying to turn you into something you don’t want to be, and you need to have somewhat of a strong character in order to weather those storms. Although, by the same token, the incongruities that usually get pointed out to me aren’t actually that significant at all. Like, people always ask me, ‘How can a band like the Eels function properly within the overall framework of a company like Dreamworks? It’s this multi-billion corporation owned by Spieberg.’

"To be honest, I do understand where those people are coming from, but the truth is that I really don’t think of our relationship with the label in those terms. I think of it in terms of Lenny Waronker and Mo Austin who head the music department. These are the guys who ran Warner Brothers during its artistic heyday, who worked with Sinatra at Reprise, who signed Hendrix and The Kinks and produced Randy Newman. They’re really knowledgeable and passionate about music… although they do occasionally meddle with me and our relationship will hit little bumps. But I think that’s par for the course in this kind of situation."

The Eels’ latest record, Shootenanny (E – in yet another example of the rarely acknowledged prankster-ish streak in his personality – coined the phrase as a mock-hip, youth culture slang-term for a shooting spree), sees the group once again deliver a dependably excellent blend of hard-edged blues, elegant ballads and the odd rockabilly/old-school rock ‘n’ roll flourish. I suggest to E that in contrast to an artist like, say, Beck, who’s content to genre-hop from record to record – with admittedly stunning results – the Eels seemed to have settled into a reasonably steady groove over their past few albums.

"I think that the voice of the songwriting does always have its roots planted in whatever project I’m working on from year to year," E concurs. "I don’t aspire to do things for the sake of showing people how versatile I can be. I only want to do things that will serve whatever it is that I’m trying to get across.

"With Shootenanny, I just felt like doing something very direct and simple – I just wanted to plug in some electric guitars, sing some melodies, play some blues and call it a day. I suppose Wittgenstein aspired to formulating a new philosophy based on the old language, and we’re just trying to say something different using the basic musical lexicon. (Pauses to consider what he’s just said) Jesus, that has to be the most pretentious quote you’ve heard this year!"

Truly, E has earned his imminent leave from this particular tour of duty.