Three decades after its initial release, the Frogs’ My Daughter The Broad remains an enduring testament to the peculiar chemistry between brothers Jimmy and Dennis Flemion. Originally issued on Matador in 1996, the Milwaukee duo’s gonzo classic assembled some of its most outrageous, improvised recordings, capturing a side of the Frogs that existed in gleeful opposition to their meticulously crafted glam- and British Invasion-influenced material. It also demonstrated that the brothers could seemingly pull a song out of thin air, complete with memorable hooks and lyrics that ranged from merely absurd to spectacularly inappropriate.
The Frogs’ square-peg designation earned them cachet among rock’s elite. Kurt Cobain was a devoted fan; Pearl Jam took them on tour; Beck sampled them; and Billy Corgan produced their 1997 Starjob EP. By then, the Flemions had been cultivating their own distinctly strange universe for 17 years. Now, Jimmy Flemion is revisiting the band’s ’90s peak with a 30th-anniversary reissue of My Daughter The Broad (Foreign Leisure). The double LP includes eight bonus tracks selected from the siblings’ extensive archives. It’s also an opportunity to celebrate Dennis, who died from an accidental drowning in 2012.
My Daughter The Broad arrives as a long-gestating Frogs documentary approaches completion. MAGNET’s Hobart Rowland spoke with the 66-year-old Jimmy, who said he hopes the film illuminates the unique creative relationship between him and his brother. Here’s more from the interview.
Take us through how the reissue of My Daughter The Broad came together.
It was just a phone call from Josh Modell at Foreign Leisure Records. We’d thrown around some ideas. We’d thought of maybe doing other reissues, but it just so happens that this is the 30th anniversary—so the timing was perfect. The same thing happened with It’s Only Right And Natural seven years ago, when we put that out for its 30th anniversary. It just so happens that there’s seven years between them.
You’ve talked about the importance of honoring Dennis and maintaining the standards he established for the Frogs. How did that influence your approach to assembling this reissue?
Since it’s like the greatest hits of the “Made-Up Songs” in a way, I think he’d just be happy that something like this was going on. I did some liner notes that address my feelings about our working relationship and the Made-Up Songs period. And then there were the choices of the eight extra tracks. I thought about his thoughts and our thoughts together, what those choices might be … honoring what we both might’ve thought about approaching this project.
The Frogs had these seemingly opposite creative impulses: carefully crafted pop tunes on one hand and completely off-the-cuff material on the other. What made you and Dennis so unusually attuned to each other when you were making up songs?
The Made-Up Songs were something we stumbled upon. We just started making them up, and they flowed effortlessly. It’s that brother thing. We were accustomed to music and the craft of writing songs, and it just came so easily. We’d try a chord, and through the creative process, it just worked out—we found a place. That in itself was the magical part. We knew we could write songs and perform, but we had no idea these songs would spring from us and become something people would listen to—not only at the time but years later. We had no inkling or idea that we’d release these to the public. They were like a private world we were creating, something we had fun with at the house. They were recorded and stockpiled, and they just kept coming.
When you went back through the archives to select the bonus tracks, what were you looking for? Did anything surprise you?
There were so many choices. I decided to go with maybe a certain theme or the old-man voice that Dennis uses, which shows up on “Candy Apples Red (5 For A Penny)” and “Raspberry Jam From A Jar.” Then there’s “The Solution 2 All Your Problems—Dance.” I also kept in mind the more commercial material, or the ones that were particularly hooky. When you’re making up all these songs, you’re not necessarily thinking about it. But as you’re going along, you’re thinking, “OK, it’s time to switch the chord. Maybe it’s time for the middle eight,” or whatever it turns into. These were the ones I chose.
Eventually you started playing the Made-Up Songs for friends. Was their reaction what convinced you that other people might appreciate this material?
They’d be laughing. They’d say, “This is great,” or whatever. In our hearts and souls, we knew we had something. We were getting a reaction, and we were having a good time making them up. And eventually the world got to hear them.
The humor on My Daughter The Broad was provocative even in 1996. Thirty years later, the cultural context has changed considerably. What do you think listeners might hear differently in these songs today?
We knew that if we could push a button or say a certain word, it was going to get a reaction. But it wasn’t necessarily about that. After you’ve made up 100 or 200 songs, you’re thinking, “What are we going to say this time?” Sometimes you can hear one of us break up while we’re playing … laughing or trying to cover it up because it’s being recorded. We wanted to flex our minds and not use the same words or the same subject matter time after time. And depending on the song, it wasn’t necessarily made up out of thin air. Maybe we’d witnessed something during the day or the night before, and that’s what we’d sing about. Culture is different now. Everything seems to be under a lot more scrutiny. But in a way, the world has caught up. When this stuff came out, it was wild. Now there’s plenty of stuff that’s trying to be out there. Hopefully, the songs are enjoyed and understood overall. A song is a song because it’s got words and music. People can focus on certain words, and that’s fine—but there’s more to it. There are songs where you can hear sadness. We’re making them up at the time, but we’re not just rejoicing all the time. There’s a whole palette of emotions intertwined throughout.
Much of the Frogs’ catalog has been difficult to find physically for years. Do you think that scarcity has contributed to the band’s mystique?
Obviously, it wasn’t deliberate. Throughout the years, whenever we released something, it usually happened because somebody approached us and said, “Hey, do you want to do this? We can put out a single.”And we’d say, “OK.” There wasn’t a lot of picking and choosing. Maybe it’s a good thing because the music isn’t oversaturated. You don’t necessarily hear our records on the radio 10 times an hour. People discover the music, and new fans turn other people on to it. It goes on and on. New people are discovering the music, and you never know how that’s going to go. That’s something I’m grateful for.
The Frogs became something of a musicians’ band, attracting admirers like Kurt Cobain and Pearl Jam despite being so different from the groups you toured with. What do you think they recognized in you?
This is only my take. I have no idea what goes on in their minds.We were quite different, and we weren’t necessarily the same age. We started the band in 1980 playing punk clubs, so we really had that attitude. A lot of those bands had success within a year or two. They’d have a debut album that was huge, or they’d be on a big label. We didn’t have that kind of thing. Everything we learned along the way, we learned ourselves. We were outside the record industry. I guess it’s that approach they saw. Maybe they thought, “We wish we could be that.” But they had to play the game. Whatever their goals were, that’s what they were doing. We’ve always been outsiders. Our attitude, how we felt when we took the stage, our choices, the thoughts behind the songs and the subject matter—all that plays into it. We were different that way. Maybe it’s a generational thing … I’m guessing. But we got their attention.
Your personal and creative relationships with Dennis were obviously inseparable. How much do you owe to him?
He got me interested in music and took me under his wing. I’m the younger brother. He pushed me toward perfection, and he gave me the courage to go onstage. The first time I went onstage by myself, we were in the parking lot beforehand, and he was saying the kind of things older brothers say: “You can do this.” He was very encouraging—he always was. Because we were brothers, there was never going to be a falling out. We had this understanding that was never really spoken about. We always had that telepathic thing. There was a little bit of the ugly side, too, with preconceived ideas about what success would be or where we should be at a certain point. He might say something onstage, and the audience wouldn’t know whether he was serious. But I knew. And he knew the same about me. He might throw drumsticks or something. It wasn’t quite Ray and Dave Davies smashing a guitar over somebody’s head—but when you’re brothers, there’s a little more resiliency.
There’s been a Frogs documentary in the works for years. Where does that stand, and what do you hope people take away from it?
The last time I spoke with [co-director Josh Modell], he was hoping for something around an hour and 30 or 40 minutes. I think he’s at about an hour and 15 now. He’s had a few different editors, and he wants to capture the right emotion. He’s got the material perfect to his liking. We’ve been doing this for coming up on 10 years. He’s gotten to know me better, and he understands that Dennis was a perfectionist. He has it in mind that if he were going to show this to Dennis, it had better be good. It has to be up to Dennis’ standards, and mine as well. He’s pretty pleased with where it’s at right now. I’ve been told the end of this year, maybe early next year.
I’ve seen the interviews with people, and it’s quite moving. You hear what people think about you—things they might not express to your face or that you haven’t read in print. It’s humbling. Hopefully, people will get a deeper understanding of the relationship between the brothers and how that extends to family and friends. Hopefully, they’ll understand that we’re not just one thing. We put a lot of love into what we did. There’s music to be enjoyed, there are visuals—and the way we approached things was very, very us.
