The return of Frog Eyes, the most difficult—though occasionally thrilling—Canadian indie rock band of the last decade, is cause for some celebration. As with most things Frog Eyes, it’s also cause for some head scratching. Tears of the Valedictorian, the band’s first album since 2004 and fourth overall, is an amplification of the band’s best traits, and an unexpected leap forward.
Frog Eyes is not for the weak of heart. The band’s early work is a compelling, creepy combination of the jittery, percussive vision of Tom Waits and the apocalyptic preaching of Nick Cave. It’s abrasive and weird enough to be punk rock, but subtly melodic, and technically complex enough to veer toward classic rock. Band leader Carey Mercer’s breathless vocals are an acquired taste, but his sense of timing and high drama—both closer to soul music than indie rock—allow him to pull off some truly great (and strange) lyrics.
With Tears, Frog Eyes move beyond the anarchic violence of their earlier work, embracing refined, anthemic song-writing that finally justifies the David Bowie references dispensed by critics. It’s a hard transition to make, especially for a band whose average song-length is about two minutes, but Mercer’s work with Destroyer and Swan Lake over the last few years seems to have expanded his sonic horizons. The band still goes squalling into a two-minute fits of weirdness like “Evil Energy,” but the clear focus is on the three epic tracks that make up more than half of the album’s run time. The best of these, the absolutely jaw-dropping “Bushels,” is the sort of operatic rock song that would make both Roger Daltrey and Freddy Mercury proud. Tears still feels a bit slight, and after a three year break it’s a shame not to get more material, but it’s hard not to appreciate an album as weird, exciting and listenable as this.
