Welcome Home: Punch Brothers’ Antifogmatic in Review
It would be embarrassing to admit how long I've waited to put this image on The Show.
Each of the few reviews I’ve read of Punch Brothers‘ sophomore effort (or 3rd record, depending on how you count, which I’ll discuss more later) Antifogmatic has had a serious portion of its body devoted to the explication on the title of the album given in the press release which accompanied it. At first, I was annoyed by the repetition, and then I realized that each review had missed the mark just a little with their interpretation. Luckily, here I am to offer mine. Is it all right if I say I think I hit the nail right on its head?
Before I go any further, I suppose I should do the obligatory and include the blurb Nonesuch has given us:
Of choosing the title, Thile notes, “’Antifogmatic’ is an old term for a bracing beverage, generally rum or whiskey, that a person would have before going out to work in rough weather to stave off any ill effects. This batch of tunes could be used in much the same way, and includes some characters who would probably benefit mightily, if temporarily, from a good antifogmatic.”
Establishing a thematic element, Thile is trapped to read exclusively reviews playing off the title. This one will be no different.
Punch Brothers first saw the light of day with a previous name, anonymously backing Thile in 2006’s jubilant solo project How to Grow a Woman From the Ground, where the core group that would be Punch Brothers (Noam Pikelny on the banjo, Gabe Witcher fiddling, and Chris Eldridge playing guitar, all virtuosic in their own right) was intact, even as the name was not. From there, the “How to Grow a Band,” as they were called on tour, were whittled down to a tightly-knit quintet for 2008’s official Punch Brothers debut Punch, a masterful album centered around the incredibly powerful 4-part central “Blind Leaving the Blind” suite.
In their own right, these two albums represented part of the boozing cycle. How to Grow a Woman was a night with the boys, swimming in a sea of whiskey, singing along to the Strokes at the top of your lungs, and maybe even crashing into a healthy dose of the ol’ beer tears with the title track. The pieces were all there well enough, but the end result was a little scattershot for better or for worse, a fun variation with just a little bit of missed memories around the edge — perfectly thematically appropriate.
Then came the crash, heavy and dark with Punch. The lustre had worn off, the light of day harsh and over-bright, the misery acute. A hangover in an album, a breakup swan song for the ages, adroitly looking back with grace while moving forward purposefully as out of a thick rye whiskey-induced sleep. Yes, we sweep ourselves off and pick up the pieces, but not without first lying around for a while.
Punch represented musical and thematic maturity that seemed unattainable for a second time. It put “bluegrassical” on the map in its timeless and genre-less blending of sonic elements, and did so with a humanity that was refreshing. Thile has the chops to hang with the best of them — see 2008’s duet album with Edgar Meyer if you’re not an apostle of the church of Chris yet — but he manages to convey his genius in a way that’s accessible to even Joe Casual Listener. The man has pop sensibilities that pair impressively with his classical training. Perhaps the finest example of this comes in the melody line from the final Nickel Creek album standout “Eveline”, where notes come out of what feels like nowhere, both jarring and somehow pleasing to the ear. In the chorus repeat, as Thile sings “Eveline, take care of your father,” he and Sara Watkins briefly sail off into uncharted waters before tacking back to a slightly more conventional path, like Bill Russell throwing one elbow just to show his opponents he could.
Antifogmatic is also a slightly more conventional path, sticking to radio-friendly 5-minute tracks instead of the 10+ minute monsters on Punch. And it’s peppier than Punch, a remedy for that Woman-induced hangover, taking the best of each album and learning from them. Album opener “You Are” could be the average of the two, rock-inspired yells pepper the song in full Woman fashion, and yet it’s distant and with a hint of untouchability in its lyrics, like much of Punch. The end of the album could easily have served as an epilogue to Punch, and its meaty middle (where the true goodies are) is purely vintage Thile fun.
The highlights of the album are definitely when the guys seem to be clowning around. Antifogmatic, unlike its predecessors, has its songs credited to all five members of the band, and it shows in several of the performances. “Don’t Need No” has an ensuite feel that would fit in with “The Blind Leaving the Blind,” but when it gets to the vocal section it changes pace radically and becomes a jammy breeze, jovial and chummy. “Rye Whiskey” was the first song I had heard off Antifogmatic, and charmed me straight away, seeming to keep intact the sort of banterish quality that distinguishes many live favorites (cf: “If You’re Gonna Leave Me”). And before that Punch epilogue comes in, we get the palette-cleanse sorbet that is “Next to the Trash,” a goofy singalong that’s pure bluegrass goodness.
Paired with the somber and more serious stuff, like the beautiful “Alex” or “Missy” or the incredibly beautifully crafted “Me and Us,” these songs make up an album that’s rich and varied, shaken up and served over ice with a twist of lemon. Gulp it down quick — it’s good for what ails you.
Next to the Trash – Punch Brothers (YSI)
Antifogmatic is out now via Nonesuch. Get it there.
