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Nov 18, 2013 Web Exclusive By J. Pace

Carey Mercer and (revolving) crew return with a self-released batch of tunes. First things first: Mercer was diagnosed with throat cancer just after receiving the final mixes, and frankly it’s tough to put that out of your mind while listening. Mercer’s approach has always been a mess of confused emotions and battles to begin with, and his particular throat such a unique one in indie rock’s rich orifice history.

In addition to revealing that shitty news, Mercer notes that album closer “Claxxon’s Lament” was one he played for his father during his last days in hospice. Add a generous helping of these times, and the stage is not exactly set for light-hearted romps. But has it ever been?

Frog Eyes has never been light, never been easy. Mercer’s music jerks violently, falls apart, eludes every ear, and then explodes orgasmically in melody, with Mercer crooning or yelping his manifestos and laments unpredictably but with dead-eyed conviction. It’s a kind of handcrafted pastoral punk, an ambitious and caustic carnival.

Mercer’s Carey’s Cold Spring is certainly more of that, but it does seem somewhat restrained, or constrained, absent a hair of that frenetic energy on earlier outings. Mercer spends more time in croon mode, right up front and bone-dry, the songs lurching forward more deliberately, more slowly, training a spotlight on his fractured poetry. It’s a slightly refined version of Mercer’s chaos, but rest assured, it’s still chaos. Always has been. (www.frogeyesmusic.bandcamp.com)

Author rating: 7/10