Frog Eyes is the kind of band that you need to see on a boat. The atmosphere at the show was that of a tent-post revival and the performers sweated prostrate as if souls were actually on the line. Carey Mercer’s goose call warble falls somewhere between the mezzo soprano of Renee Fleming, a burlesque yodeler, and Burgess Merideth in a bath tub, and as a result, has an extremely polarizing effect even upon the faithful who paid $8 to stand up front. I haven’t seen a bandleader so commanding in a very long time and never have I seen a band so tightly in tune with and devoted to their songwriter in contrast to all of the apparent chaos that he projects live. Watching Carey center stage, the band relegated to a corner at the back, reminded me of a story I heard about James Brown who used to have ten hour rehearsal sessions before any performance whether it was a church barbeque or at the Apollo. I was told that if he heard a band member make a mistake, he would turn to them and, as if part of the song, would utter some guttural “gotcha” or “uh-huh” and later fine them an inappropriate sum. This would keep any band tight. Frog Eyes were tight like I imagine James Brown’s band being, not out of fear, but out of a true passion for the music and respect for their audience.
As musical friends of mine know, I’ve touted repeatedly that Spencer Krug is one of the best songwriters/ musicians/ creative people out there (with his bands Sunset Rubdown, Wolf Parade, and Swan Lake) – and though he plays keyboards for Frog Eyes and his contribution to their most recent record is paramount, his absence from the show (as he is on tour with Sunset Rubdown) hardly deterred from the urgency and power of the music. Guitars filled in the harmonic gaps and the stunning drummer made up for the missing percussive key strokes with skittering martial drum fills. A great show all around.
A pleasant surprise was opener Alex Delivery. I had heard a couple of songs off the Jagjaguwar website recently and was excited to see what they had to offer live. After a messy start, they found their groove midway through the 8 minute opener and I was moved by the dramatic shifts that the mostly instrumental set hinged upon. Though they only played three long songs and the vocals were hardly distinguishable, the motorik, rhythm, reverberant clangy guitar work, and My Bloody Valentine keyboard brought to mind other art-rock acts like The Double with a dalliance of Kraftwerk and a hint of the ambitious sonic ephemera of Explosions in the Sky, which made for a very compelling set. I look forward to hearing more from them in the future.
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