Frog Eyes, perhaps more than any other independent or underground rock band, defies convenient musical reference. Early reviewers who tossed out David Bowie or Captain Beefheart were either lazy or grasping at straws. The subsequent emergence of Wolf Parade and Sunset Rubdown, led by former Frog Eyes keyboardist Spencer Krug, provided some helpful context yet those bands’ somewhat domesticated (yet still exhilarating) take on Frog Eyes’ carnival-esque ejaculations left plenty still to digest. The best I could ever do to explain Frog Eyes’ music is to say it sounds like a Hieronymus Bosch painting – a macabre circus of mysticism, sin and scholarship. Their songs are melodic and thrilling yet resist easy recall by refusing to dole out anything resembling a hook or a chorus, often even leaving lyrics indecipherable. They swell to the point of explosion, explode then duly swell up again in a state of swirling madness. The tempo is seemingly always faster than expected, leaving you disoriented and stunned by the frantic ring of reverberating guitars and some maniacal vocals. Lead singer Carey Mercer spits and wails like banshee then whispers Hellenic incantations in a slightly deranged, wholly original voice while leading the rest of the band through the paces of their cacophony. Frog Eyes is a force to be reckoned with.

Tears of the Valedictorian, Frog Eyes’ latest slab of beautiful confusion, both dovetails and surpasses the band’s formidable back catalog. Opener “Idle Songs” begins in fifth gear with stomping drums and flailing guitars. “Caravan Breakers” is a winding epic of song that morphs through numerous parts and bridges all while burying cryptically brilliant lyrics like “When the crystal meta-mountains made the early mountain SAD” in its murky roar. The only red herring is a surprisingly Interpol-esque drum breakdown at the 4:23 mark, which dissolves over several minutes into a sparse contrail of whispers and barks.

Tears of the Valedictorian, like every Frog Eyes release, pretty much bleeds each song into the next, making the dense monolith of the album nearly impossible to chunk into songs or, in any way, “tunes.” The brief, drumless “…Eagle Energy” perhaps offers some quarter with its quasi-ballad feel yet the nine-plus minute “Bushels” immediately plunges back into the void. Before you can catch your breath Tears of the Valedictorian ends, forcing you to start at the beginning to try and figure out what the hell just happened. Anyone who thinks that indie rock is a stylized bore or art rock is dry, academic and passionless should delve into to the deep, dark abyss of Frog Eyes. – Jon Rooney (2007, The Daily Copper)