I fucking love Frog Eyes. I really do. So much that I named my blog after them. So much that if I were to ever own a cat I would call him Matthew's Cat, Who Has Cast Of His Shackles And Become Glorious Patriarch Of All Cats. I'm not exactly sure what it even is that gets me hooked. The ramshackle and strained rumbling. The seemingly tuneless maple syrup guitar. The whole air of pointlessness. The feeling that Frog Eyes have fought in some great medieval battle and have been mercilessly defeated.
Even Carey Mercer, who must surely be from another world, has struck a strange chord with me. He writes a very occaisional blog called
Clouds Of Evil, which I stumbled upon amid his recollection of some crazy bender party called Shitmix '96. It was all alcohol, all energy, all pandering. Somewhat unexpectedly I found myself thinking "now here is a man to admire," around the same time that I decided that Frog Eyes was definitely music I could admire.
So, a new album. Paul's Tomb: A Triumph. The most elegant 4 word introduction to a band I've ever heard, because that name is pure Frog Eyes. And guess what! They've even made an album for everyone! It's full of catchy pop hits and 4 minute love songs!
No I'm just kidding. The first track is nine minutes. And it is a truly glorious thing, one of their very best, but it's looking like Frog Eyes aren't trying to make any new friends here. Mercer has always dangled the flashy carrot of brilliance, and in a way that could be seem as extremely frustrating. Those choruses are there, they are right fucking there! And they will be given to you one minute into a song and never heard again.
The whole idea that a song should be tidal, moving in and out from a big yellow beach that someone can lie on and listen has been totally ignored. Instead, anyone trying to grab a tan and meet some hot-bodied other better get out of the fucking way or they will be pummelled by a grey-water torrent of endless, relentless ramble.
Basically, I have no idea how this band has any fans. But I am one. I believe there is something in there, some great idea that I cannot describe, and I think this album is fucking brilliant. It is a very different beast from their previous effort, but it is still very much a beastly thing.
But it's harmless, really. You know how some people keep ugly rats for pets? Yeah, I love Frog Eyes.
Some days, when nobody else is home, when the TV has exploded and the internet has run out of interesting, I start to go a little weird. Skittish, I guess. High strung. The amazing human cello. I'll pace around the house a few times until I'm certain that yes, I have in fact gone mad. So I'll go for a walk.
