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In 2012, the “progressive bluegrass” quintet Punch Brothers asked the world, Who’s Feeling Young Now? And that dazzling 12-track album remains the culmination of the group’s collective goals. In numerous interviews, mandolinist and de facto frontman Chris Thile has stated that the Punch Brothers’ chief aim is to balance the “head” and the “heart” of songwriting – in other words, to balance the quintet’s individual instrumental prowess with an immediacy that appeals to listeners from any background.
Who’s Feeling Young Now? succeeds with aplomb: “This Girl” and “New York City” are pop tunes the Beach Boys could be proud of. (Unsurprisingly, The Smile Sessions are an influence on this group, as evinced by the regular appearance of “Surf’s Up!” in concert sets). At the same time, the instrumentation is complex and knotty, certainly enough to satisfy those addicted to the rush of 32nd notes. “Flippen (The Flip),” a cover of the Swedish band Väsen, lets every musician in the group wear their frets down nicely, while the surprisingly brilliant cover of Radiohead’s “Kid A” is a testament to the power of artists using acoustic instruments to reinvent electronic music. Where “Kid A” was cold and detached thing in Radiohead’s hands, Punch Brothers gave the track a visceral, jarring new life.
Whether or not these Punch Brothers still feel young now, only they can say. But they certainly sound young. Though each group member has been involved with music since childhood, none of their compositional energy and creativity has diminished whatsoever. The same can be said for The Phosphorescent Blues, the band’s fourth full-length. Like its predecessor, the album finds these lads continuing to push themselves compositionally, all the while maintaining that crucial balance between the cerebral and emotional aspects of their music.
Just like Who’s Feeling Young Now?, The Phosphorescent Blues kicks off with a tune that emphasizes the cerebral aspect of the equation. The 10-minute “Familiarity” hearkens back to the avant-garde “string quintet in four movements” from Punch Brothers’ debut LP, Punch: the ambitious “The Blind Leaving the Blind.” Here, just as they did on that track, the quintet throws a cornucopia of influences into the mix, spanning those aforementioned Beach Boys vocal harmonies to the dizzying classical techniques Thile displays so masterfully on his Bach: Sonatas and Partitas Vol 1 (2012). Unlike most Punch Brothers songs, vocal harmonies are front-and-center – easily the key differentiator between this number and “The Blind Leaving the Blind”, a composition that identifies the group as instrumental virtuosos. However, much like that overeager string quintet, not all of it sticks; in challenging the form, the track ambles a bit too much for its own good. Although the tune sticks the landing with a hushed, tender finale, it is more interesting for its parts than its whole.
“Familiarity” marks the only time that Punch Brothers get overtly abstract on The Phosphorescent Blues. Save for two takes on classical composers, the music here predominantly sticks within verse/chorus song structure – although, of course, the boys do plenty to tinker with that format. It’s a testament to this band that they’re continually able to transcend the notion of genre (a concept that Thile himself has argued against in the past) through their incorporation of traditional and contemporary styles without ever emphasizing the “oldness” or “newness” of either one.
For instance, the quintet gives Debussy’s “Passepied,” the fourth movement of his Suite Bergamesque, a whole new energy and zest. As banjo wizard Noam Pikelny has pointed out regarding Punch Brothers’ sprightly rendition of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G major, bluegrass instruments (e.g. banjo and mandolin) offer a unique chance to reinterpret classical pieces, due to their staccato and rhythmic capabilities. The same is true for “Passepied”; originally written for solo piano, the group takes the piece apart in its final form, using each instrument to enhance certain facets of the original composition. The staccato pulses of Chris Eldridge’s guitar and Paul Kowert’s bass lay down a flowing, even danceable rhythmic foundation. (A Passepied is a kind of dance, after all.) Atop this, Pikelny and Thile pluck delicate notes on the high end of the register, creating a bright effect until Thile tremolo picks the notes that foreground the piece’s key signature, F sharp minor. Those high notes create a delightful push-and-pull between the bright aspects of the piece and the moody night music feel of the key signature. Amidst those four players, fiddler Gabe Witcher, weaves lilting violin figures that add further rhythmic complexity.
This nervy and nuanced transformation of Debussy’s piece is truly splendid. The same cannot really be said for the other classical inclusion on The Phosphorescent Blues, an ephemeral prelude of Scriabin’s that lasts a mere 57 seconds. The piece is a fine display of Pikelny’s banjo tone, but given its brevity it feels insubstantial, especially when following the excellence of “Passepied.”
Punch Brothers fans know that the boys are equally adept at crafting clever pop tunes. Lead single “I Blew It Off” is one such example: Driven by Witcher’s hypnotic fiddle and yet another set of killer vocal harmonies — there’s that Brian Wilson worship again — it brings to mind Who’s Feeling Young Now? tracks like “This Girl.” “I Blew It Off” is also one of several Phosphorescent Blues tracks that incorporate electric guitar and drums. Fans might worry if this new approach will dampen the unique effect of the five main instruments, but just a single spin through the album will put any of those worries to rest. The drumming in particular, perfomed by Jay Bellerose, brilliantly pulls off the balancing act of enhancing the rhythms of the music without overtaking the primary instruments.
This is especially the case on easily the best pop number here, the aggressive and sexy “Magnet,” which is a less-than-subtle homage to one of the Brothers’ favorite modern rock bands, the Strokes. (“Reptilia” is a regular cover song these guys play in concert.) “Magnet” tells the tale of a quasi-sadomasochistic relationship of a couple driven by aggression. “What’s the center between two centers of attention?” Thile asks, then answering: “Only tension between two centers of attention.” The main riff of the track is catchy as all hell, and the dark humor of the call-response section in the second verse is bound to become a live favorite. Bellerose is especially on point, proving himself to be a perfect sixth Brother for this studio outing.
That brooding energy is only matched one other time on The Phosphorescent Blues, in the form of the bluegrass standard “Boll Weevil,” which has long been used live by Punch Brothers as an intro to the Antifogmatic classic “Rye Whiskey.” “I don’t see no water / But I’m about to drown / I don’t see no fire /But I’m burning down,” the five sing with menace.
“Boll Weevil” marks a distinct shift in The Phosphorescent Blues. After its followup, the aforementioned Scriabin prelude, the music takes a noticeable turn for the midtempo. While the reassuring chorus of “Forgotten” and the euphoric finale to “Little Lights” are some of the LP’s best moments, the final three of these 11 tunes constitute a slow walk to the finish line rather than a triumphant burst across it. The latter cut, however, is certainly of note: “Little Lights” concludes with a crowdsourced chorus, which Punch Brothers commissioned a few months before the record’s release. Fans were called to submit their vocal take on “Little Lights”‘s finale: “Shine little lights of ours / Like Orion’s Belt of stars / Connected only from afar / Shine little lights of ours / Like Orion’s Belt of stars / Guide us back to where we are.” Although there was undoubtedly some trepidation regarding how the song would turn out when Thile qualified to submitters, “[N]o musical ability needed (or even preferred),” these gents perfectly harmonized all of the voices they were given. In doing so, they’ve written themselves a concert finale-ready track that’s sure to have staying power for years to come.
That moment of camaraderie aside, The Phosphorescent Blues ends on a comparatively limp note. Still, the feeling that’s left once it’s all over is not that Punch Brothers are losing face, but rather that they didn’t fully cap off what is otherwise another excellent collection of music. Even when they drift off into realms too cerebral (“Familiarity”) or too unassertive (“Between First and A”), they’re still in a class all their own at making acoustic music that feels undeniably electric.
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