For two people in a city of eight million, Frog amassed a respectable New York following in their early years. But the Queens alt-country duo found fans-real fandom, where people line up to buy your music and the faces in the front row aren't your longtime friends — abroad. Audio Antihero, a UK boutique that signed the band after discovering it in 2013 debut recordstrengthened Frog enough to warrant a full UK tour before they ever planned a US regional leg.
Since then, Frog have spent the last decade enjoying life as a cult favorite. When not it costs $250 on the resale market, their records draw comparisons to Townes Van Zandt and the Silver Jews—fitting, as the late David Berman once wrote Frog a letter of admiration—while blurring the edges of barren indie rock, low-key emo, and heartfelt Americana. In view of it Grog, the band's fifth album and first in four years, their situation changed. Singer-guitarist Daniel Bateman moved to New Rochelle and welcomed twins, while longtime drummer-bassist Tom White moved to England and was replaced by Daniel's brother Steve Bateman. The new album kicks off the band's sibling era, but Frog's sound remains as squirrely as ever.
Sounding as if they were still holed up in their parents' garage and playing for no one but themselves, Daniel and Steve Bateman are all unbridled inspiration and free-form spontaneity, whether it's the last-minute glockenspiel on “Ur Still Mine” or for the haunting spectral piano. It goes without saying.” Their comfort with each other is palpable. Daniel pulls out Butthole Surfers and Metro-North tickets in the tone of someone fluent in the common language of a brotherhood. When he takes a more straightforward approach on “DOOM SONG,” a flurry of discordant chords and ominous cymbal crashes, Daniel encourages his brother to break free: “Pride, young brother/You should sing like a dream/Stop the show, break a string.”
Daniel's emotional delivery has always been one of Frog's strongest assets, and it still is Grog. On “Maybelline,” he sings about a woman who was dosed with Dexedrine in a car accident as if he's pouring one out for someone he's known his whole life. He introduces “New Ro,” an ode to his new city, with vocal harmonies that match the retro romance of his banjo strums. As if the simplicity of the way he sings the love song “So Twisted Fate” wasn't enough, it evolves into a vocal note of his children trying to sing while a synth chord morphs into the focus. There's no exact science to Daniel's singing, but his untrained voice has a purity that's hard to fake and heartwarming to hear.
