On Oct. 17, Frog played at Third Man Records, the vinyl shop, pressing plant, label and performance space founded by Jack White of The White Stripes. Inside, it is dark and intimate, industrial in the way only Detroit can be. The walls are lined with records and comics, the yellow-and-black brick interior housing mingling fans and eclectic Halloween decorations. I was immediately disarmed by the Indian music playing over the speakers, and equally confused when it switched to ’90s folk. The space carried the city’s personality, its grit, its unpolished creativity. I could tell it was the kind of venue that valued authenticity and closeness, where both music and community held a palpable presence.
Frog is one of those bands you either stumble upon or get put on to by a cool friend. The crowd reflected just that: 70 or so people, a mix of older adults in Converse and beanies, teenage indieheads and a few stragglers who didn’t know they were about to witness one of the most quietly brilliant bands of the decade.
Formed in 2012 by Danny Bateman and Thomas White, and later adding Bateman’s younger brother Steve Bateman in 2019, Frog is a New York-based group whose sound is anything but confined to the city. They’ve mastered a unique amalgamation of genres, blending Midwestern sensibility, Americana, folk, jazz and emo with comedic one-liners and yearning lyrics.
Before the show began, I had the chance to speak with drummer Steve, who was running the merchandise stand. After my friend Venmoed him for a Frog shirt, I asked what his top three musical inspirations were. He first named Guided by Voices, a band he said they’ve been listening to a lot lately. Next, he named Meg White, nodding toward a White Stripes album displayed beside him. “And then,” he added with a grin, “Ringo.” Classic.
When Danny was asked a similar question a few months earlier during a KEXP radio interview, he listed Lil Wayne, Charlie Parker and Mozart, adding on Hank Williams later. Crazily enough, that lineup pretty accurately describes Frog’s sound: random yet masterful.
That mix of humility is what makes Frog. Never taking themselves too seriously, even when their music digs into the deep stuff, they’re real. It’s their humor, unpretentiousness and sincerity that define Frog, just as much as their sound does.
As I stood amongst the Frog fans, waiting for the concert to start, opener Fred Thomas entered the stage, reciting a poem with little music in accompaniment. The rest of his songs followed suit: raw guitar melodies with painfully personal lyrics. “Needles in the Street” recounts his childhood growing up in Ypsilanti, a sad and poignant vignette into his drug-ridden playground. He interweaved talk-singing and guitar with Q&A with the crowd. “What’s your favorite color?” shouted a member of the audience. Without a second to think, Thomas replied, “The pale blue that appears in my mind when I look at the one I love.” Later, when someone in the crowd asked about cereal, he claimed it had “too much sugar.” I learned a lot about the people who showed up for Frog: They’re odd. Like Thomas, like Frog, eccentric underdogs.
When Frog finally took the stage, the energy shifted — curiosity fostered by Thomas turned into electric anticipation — yet the intimacy remained. Both Batemans and White silently tuned their instruments, checked their sound, and then launched into “TOP OF THE POPS VAR. I.” Immediately, I was amazed by the capabilities of Danny’s voice. On recordings, his falsetto and reach are impressive, but seeing it in person goes beyond. It was loud and unpredictable. It didn’t follow his guitar’s chords melodically, instead colliding with them alongside the rhythm provided by Steve’s drums and White’s bass. He whined octaves above what seems natural with wavering vibrato, a sound reminiscent of other greats like Daniel Johnston and Greg Freeman.
Later, they played “DOOMSCROLLING VAR. II,” also from their album 1000 Variations on the Same Song, but tonally miles apart from the previous song. Steve anchored this tune with an aggressive, almost martial beat and soft backing vocals. “Doomscrolling, drinking, I found your name online,” sang Danny. These modernly melancholic lyrics then mix with a jazzy scat, “Rat-a-tat-tat, make ’em go flat.” Ironically, a few minutes after singing “G chord done pulled my guitar strings out,” Danny snapped a string mid-performance. “Never stop the show. … We’re professionals!” Danny beamed.
They are professionals, and they look the part too. Sort of. Danny wore a button-up and khakis, looking like he just came off his nine-to-five; Steve, behind the kit, rocked a tank top and jeans; White was stoic in a baseball cap. As they played their music and drank their IPAs, it was clear to me that they are the most American band I’ve ever seen.
On “COME COME COME VAR. XIV” Danny sang, “And I pull up to the condo in the Lambo / And I keep it strapped up all the time like Rambo.” They’re Americana, but not just in the traditional folk sense. Rather than an open road or small-town nostalgia, they ooze the messy, ironic and personal essence of the modern American condition.
Midway through the set, they started to banter with the crowd. Danny mentioned how they had just watched “The Invisible Man,” the 2020 thriller starring Elisabeth Moss. It was a part of their touring experience he really cherished, watching weird films together in their hotel room. Steve, the show’s comic relief, exclaimed that Moss is a Scientologist and that “Who knows, maybe it helped her career.” Danny laughed, shook his head, and quickly drowned out his little brother’s remarks by striking the opening riff of “Black on Black on Black.”
When they played “SAX-A-MA-PHONE VAR. XII,” I was buzzing. It’s my favorite song from their new album THE COUNT, which they released in September. While the studio cut is excellent, the live version is exponentially better. They evoke emotion that cannot be translated solely through sound. The visuals of Danny pounding on the keys, wrestling with each chord, bring out something angry and unpolished. I found myself head-banging along with the rest of the audience, not to punk rock riffs but a cacophonous, reckless, beautiful mess of a piano solo.
By the time they reached the encore, the energy of the room was at its peak, even after 25 songs. The band received a round of applause and shrieks as they retook the stage. A fan, speaking to Danny, yelled, “Are you single, Bateman?” Steve responded with a wry, “Unfortunately, no … he’s got a wife and kids.” I understood that fan’s feelings — Frog is hot. Unassuming in the best way. Their sound is skilled and deeply personal, a unique and authentic voice that resonates with its audience. They feel like a discovered treasure: not the biggest band, nor the one with the largest following, but one that deserves every bit of the recognition they do receive. In their 2018 “Kings of Blah” documentary, a British fan reflects on Frog’s future, hoping they keep improving their craft and drawing bigger crowds. Watching them live, I hoped the same for them.
The trio asked the crowd what they would like to hear. After some consideration and a short huddle, they landed with “Bones.” A softer tune, it was a welcoming goodbye. Their setlist reflected just how much they’ve made over the years — a cross-section of a band that can’t seem to stop creating. As Danny mentioned on KEXP, he makes music compulsively, and the night’s performance proved it. They covered new releases like THE COUNT and 1000 Variations on the Same Song, 2023’s GROG, 2019’s Count Bateman and even “Rubbernecking” from their 2013 self-titled debut.
Frog is dissonant, not just in their sound but in the way they defy categorization. They borrow freely from influences, but their sound remains uniquely theirs. Danny once said he strived to create “a genre that only (he) plays in.” Live, they brought this fictitious genre to life, leaping between country twang, indie rock and jazz improvisation. Leaving Third Man Records that night, I felt energized by their art and reminded of the power of music that is truly one’s own.
Daily Arts Contributor Esha Nair can be reached at eshanair@umich.edu.
