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.

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Alex – Punch Brothers (YSI)

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Next to the Trash – Punch Brothers (YSI)

Antifogmatic is out now via Nonesuch. Get it there.

Related posts:

1. Practice, Practice, Practice
2. Covers that Reinvent the Wheel: "Spit on a Stranger"
3. Wilconey Island and Other Elisions

They know how to get there

If I were to make a list of places I wish I could go tonight, coming in right between “Endor” and “Someplace warm” would be Carnegie Hall, where several thousand lucky fans have the chance to see the miraculous Punch Brothers unveil new tunes and fill the sacred space with their beautifully melodic and thrilling folk/pop/bluegrass/classical amalgamated masterpieces. If you’re in the NY area, you have to go. I don’t do much ordering, but this is one. Plus, I’m told that rush tickets are only $10! LET ME LIVE VICARIOUSLY THROUGH YOU.

Any faithful reader of this blog has heard plenty about our collective adoration for Thile + co. If not, below are a few youtube videos to whet your proverbial whistle, one of which (the first) was a bonus track from 2008’s delectable Punch (the track is available exclusively on iTunes). Watch, listen, go. Then tell me all about it. In great detail.

I Know You Know

It’ll Happen

Rye Whiskey

Related posts:

1. Another Reintroduction (and more Thile)
2. Welcome Home: Punch Brothers’ Antifogmatic in Review
3. Some Thile to Tide You Over

Greetings from the Scariest Place on Earth!

Last night, I had the good fortune to see Wilco at Coney Island’s Keyspan Park, home to the brilliantly-talented and usually-sober Brooklyn Cyclones. With new Show staffer David by my side, I blocked the view of everyone behind me, towering over the competition in a way I’m capable of doing when not standing next to the 6-6 behemoth Marquis Meowmers IV, which really heightened the experience. (Hoho!) Seriously, if you ever get a chance to be the tallest person at a concert, you should capitalize on it. It’s quite an experience. There’s nothing like making the 5-6 kid behind you furious. Or the 5-9 girl with the drunky-eyes who just elbowed her way to within 15 feet of the stage after arriving 30 minutes after the opener but, like, seriously dude, you’re so tall and she’s so short and why can’t you just trade places with her? And then you’re all like, hey lady, I’ve been here for 3 hours in the sun inhaling the Brooklyn barf that trails across from the boardwalk, and I totally hear you and all but I really have trouble seeing how that’s fair to any of the other 17000 people here who are shorter than I am. And the 5-9 girl whines that maybe if you worked a fucking job you wouldn’t have the time to stand out here for 3 hours and that’s why you should give her your spot. So you’re like, lady, keep insulting me and maybe I’ll have to go to the Port-a-Throne (Registered TM) and cry, leaving my spot for you, even though I have a job and it’s probably better than yours. And then David the Rookie (registered TM) is like, you should probably write about this, because it could be funny. So you do. With long, unedited sentences. All are great experiences, and I recommend them. But even if you can’t do all that, at least go see Wilco. And here’s why:

They rock as hard as anyone in rock right now. Period. Last night’s show was an almost 3-hour tour-de-force, coming in at 26 songs and featuring a few choice Indie Rock All Star guests, like the beautiful and talented Feist (joining for “You and I,” “California Stars,” and tambourine on “Hoodoo Voodoo”), Grizzly Bear’s Ed Droste (Vocals on “California Stars” and maracas on “Hoodoo Voodoo”), and all three of the members of Yo La Tengo, who opened for Wilco and then returned during Encore #1 for a raucous and rocking “Spiders (Kidsmoke).” The band is a tight, cohesive unit, and are note-perfect live, while still retaining their noisy daring. Glenn Kotche is one of the most energetic and phenomenal drummers I’ve had the opportunity to see, and I’m sure I don’t need to say anything about the brilliantly innovative Nels Cline.

However, no concert is without its flaws, and this one certainly had a couple. These flaws were mostly in song choice, though. And that’s not to say the setlist wasn’t good. In fact, they played a pretty awesome cross-section of their fantastic back catalog. I just wish they’d played more from 2001’s breathtaking Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, which is probably one of my 5 desert island albums. In particular, I had requested the rara avis “Magazine Called Sunset” on the Wilco site (they have a “request” feature, which is a fantastic idea), and was disappointed it didn’t make it into the show. But it was a long shot, and such is life. Lucky for you savvy readers, I’ve provided a few of my Wilco highlights below. Almost as good as the live experience, and all without having to peer over my tall, strong shoulders.

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Heavy Metal Drummer (Live) – Jeff Tweedy (YSI)

From Sunken Treasure: Live in the Pacific Northwest

This version features the alternate verse “She lifted up her shirt/at the battle of the bands/he twirled his sticks/she helped him to his van,” which Tweedy sang last night, causing Rookie of the Year David’s eyes to almost pop out of his head.

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A Magazine Called Sunset – Wilco (YSI)

From the exclusive YHF-era EP, More Like the Moon. (I can help you find it, if you’re at a loss.)

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Poor Places – Punch Brothers (YSI)

Recorded at their Daytrotter session, this may be the best version of this song I’ve ever heard. Better even than the original. That’s right — I went there. You know how much I love Chris Thile covers, and this is his finest, hands-down.

And if you like you see, turn off your tv and ZOOM!

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1. Two Tweedy Posts in a Row?
2. New Wilco: "Everlasting Love"
3. Some Thile to Tide You Over

So talented. And such great hair. I hate you. Did you know that, Chris?

I’ve got a few pretty huge posts in the works, which are really word-heavy (which Drew, for one, hates, but I’m really not ever trying to please him). Because of that, I’m going to warm you up with something I stumbled upon just recently, which is yet another phenomenal Chris Thile bluegrass reinvention of an indie favorite. This time, it’s Radiohead’s “Morning Bell.” Beautiful.

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Morning Bell (Radiohead Cover) -- Chris Thile (megaupload)

Related posts:

1. Another Reintroduction (and more Thile)
2. Covers that Reinvent the Wheel: "Spit on a Stranger"
3. Practice, Practice, Practice