Mark Eitzel is back -- and perhaps even more prolific than ever. In the works for over two years, The Invisible Man is a testament of Eitzel's mastery of the merger between word and music, and further proof that his relevance didn't die when his days fronting American Music Club ended.

The Invisible Man is perhaps Eitzel's most intimate effort to date, and he completed most of it on his own, with minor recording assistance from a scattering of friends and colleges. Combining acoustic and electronic elements isn't a new idea by any stretch of the imagination, but in Eitzel's hands the result is seamless to the point where it's almost unnoticeable. All that's retained in the transition from one track to another is the pureness of music. The means to that pureness seem almost unimportant.

Lyrically, The Invisible Man continues in the tradition of the solid and simple, yet breathtaking, songwriting Eitzel perfected during his AMC days. His style is so subtle that he can sing scathing lines like "If you dismiss me with a smile / I'll break all your teeth and all your fun / If you dismiss me with a frown / I'll make sure you never forget your pain." ("The Global Sweep Of Human History") and you'll think he means it in a nice way -- or in the very least, you'll think the object of his wrath is deserving of such a fate.

Every song here is, in one way or another, a commentary on everyday life -- some written in the context of an outsider, others from the view of someone who is right in the middle of either chaos or pleasure. From the dreams of someone who is striving to write the perfect song ("Sleep") to sex and drugs ("Steve I Always Knew") and on to the mysteries revealed, and sometimes compounded, by religion ("Christian Science Reading Room"), Eitzel explores the things we think about, but in a way that we may not previously have considered.

One of the more chilling songs, "Anything", paints a picture of alienation and loneliness with the lines "...none of your tiny wishes can find a toe hold / Have you been recast as some odd character / that has no story to unfold. / My mother always worried that I'd be a sad old maid / alone and sour as a glass of lemonade. / I'd give anything to be where you are." In total contrast, "Proclaim Your Joy" sits in its spot as the closing track, an upbeat and hopeful three chord wonder in which Eitzel lists the plights of man, both horrific and benign, and urges us to find and revel in our occasional happiness. "Proclaim Your Joy" could almost be an answer, and a benevolent reassurance, for the tormented soul in "Anything."

Plainly put, The Invisible Man is a thoughtful and insightful look into the mind of a man who has been both revered and misunderstood over the course of his musical career. It's a statement from someone who, though he's received countless accolades, has not merely rested on those merits, but moved along and explored new territories. The beauty of it all lies in the fact that these explorations have been transformed into something engaging and meaningful.