On Sunday, October 10th of this past year a friend and I went to see the mighty Frog Eyes play the Vera Project along with a smattering of 30 or so other, mostly underage, folks. My decidedly overage (and tastefully bearded) friend was unfamiliar with Frog Eyes or any of the other projects of their prolific leader, Carey Mercer (Swan Lake, Blackout Beach, Blue Pine) which forced me to try to describe their music. Tom Waits fronting the Cramps only no one is in character? Birthday Party had Nick Cave been more influenced by Harold Bloom than Iggy Pop? Wolf Parade in full out popularity indifference mode (Spencer Krug played with Frog Eyes before either Wolf Parade or Sunset Rubdown gained attention)? Frog Eyes is, sure enough, a rock band. There are frantically played electric guitars, patterned drums, all sorts of yelping. Carey Mercer seems to sing about a vaguely ancient Greek mythology of his own creation, but I can’t really be sure. There’s no other band whose music I both love and don’t really understand, either structurally or lyrically. I can’t imagine picking up a guitar and starting to strum a Frog Eyes song like one might do with a Bowie song or something by Pavement. Where would I start? The Archilochos allusions? The growling? The best analogy I can think of for listening to Frog Eyes is looking at a painting or illustration by Hieronymus Bosch.
Describing Frog Eyes
Witnessing a Frog Eyes show, even a poorly attended one, has always been a thrill for me. They’re both ferocious and guileless, filled with all species of freak-outs and sustained crescendos without ever betraying any sense of being an “act.” Mercer is self-effacing and mild in his banter, neither ashamed of his sweaty exertions nor particularly in need of adulation or the trappings of being Cool.
While their entire discography is fantastic, last year’s Paul’s Tomb: A Triumph would have been at the top of my year-end list had such a list been created.