Josh Tillman, white boy shaman, Father John Misty, whatever you want to call this prodigal son of seventies singer-songwriter psychedelia, came to Boston on Tuesday and delivered an extensive set of not just songs, but convictions about life and love to a sold out crowd at the Paradise Rock Club. Yes, I drank the Father John Misty kool-aid. I’ve read the words of the I Love You Honeybear album insert. I’ve thought about it, debated with myself internally, and after seeing this show on Tuesday decided that “Yes indeed, this man will be my preacher.”
Without exaggeration though, there is a sort of cultish appeal to the branding and/or character that is Father John Misty, and if there was a target demographic for this brand I think I would be exactly it. So when I walked into the venue, late, I was hit with the sudden realization that the room was filled with caricatures of myself. White dudes, 25-35 years of age, jaded about music, seasonally depressed, sharp tongued, slightly neurotic, and much like Tillman himself, can come off like an asshole, but not on purpose. That’s not to say that there weren’t any young ladies there, but most of them seemed to be with boyfriends. Which led me to imagine that bringing your girlfriend to this show must be the modern day equivalent to bringing a girlfriend to see Robert Plant or Jim Morrison in the ’70s. Tillman has that same sort of star and sex appeal, and you’d have to watch and slowly admit to yourself that your she might be eerily mesmerized by him and could probably be whisked away from you at this man’s whim at any moment.
Even if I was among a bevy of carbon copy indie-folk rock-loving white boys, I was probably the only asshole that completely miscalculated and missed Father John Misty’s fellow Sub-Pop label mate, and Brattleboro, Vermont’s own King Tuff. For that, I digress, was because of two reasons. First being my own stupidity and cockiness that a “rock show” wouldn’t start until at least 9:15 and “I don’t have time to sit in your club all night,” (I was down the street eating a taco). And secondly, even if I was late, King Tuff would probably play an hour set or so. Arriving during the last song at 8:45 literally melted my heart with disappointment. I was beyond excited for this Sub-Pop double bill. How could the night go on I asked myself? To make matters worse it was another forty-five minutes of waiting before Father John Misty came on. So having nothing to do and realizing I would have nothing to write about, I leave you with our fantastic review of a previous King Tuff show at the Sinclair. Next time King Tuff, next time.
Thankfully, Father John Misty came out and delivered a gigantic hour and a half set to a rowdy sold-out crowd. Amid a dimly lit stage of only a neon red heart with “no photography” etched in cursive through it, the band came out heavy and loud with the title track for the I Love You Honey Bear record. The heart, an ironic statement piece about people’s unnecessary camera shots during a show certainly didn’t stop anyone from trying to capture the energy or dance moves Misty emitted throughout the night. There were certainly a lot of photogenic moments. From his near hanging off of house speakers, to smacking the microphone on his forehead, or overall ability to sing from anywhere or in any position he can get himself into, he’s just a person you cannot take your eyes off of.
But his band came out blazing too, sounding crisp and clear on the orchestral rock calamity that is “Honeybear” and sucked you in a moment that sounded like it could have been taken from the middle of the White Album. However, Tillman’s voice and accentuation of vocals and lyrics are what really defy comparisons and separate this artist as something else all his own. Very rarely can you actually see an artist and make out every single syllable of written lyricism sung with such gusto and clarity as this man does. This too, is definitely the source of the “preachiness” that turns off some and makes him as an artist and eccentric performer most people will either love or hate.
“Strange Encounter” had the same effect along with some fuzzy guitar and xylophone work from his new and extremely tight band. “When You’re Smiling and Astride Me” was elevated from the album version, played early on and remained a highlight of the night. The 20 song set dabbled with Fear Fun favorites, but the Honeybear songs far surpassed anyone’s expectations and proved that this is not only potentially the album of the year, but a live act not to be missed.
Whether it was the chill-wave mix up of “True Affection,” or the punchy solo that fill the void of the Spanish horn on “Chateau Lobby” the new material shined brightest. That’s not to say the groove of “Nancy From Now On,” or Revolver sounding “This is Sally Hatchet” from Tillman’s first record didn’t have their place, the Honeybear stuff was just more epic. This culminated with “The Ideal Husband,” which is perhaps the best song off the new record, and “Holy Shit,” which was undoubtedly the most psychedelic song they played and came with full band space outs not exactly on the record.
Tillman’s persona and stage presence by itself is a show. Once again, a source of divide among his critics is his stage banter and audience engagement. A quick Q&A with rambunctious crowd turned jaded quickly, but it’s all a part of his charm to really not be fake about anything. He’s opened up his life through his music, warts and all, and he’s not going to your puppet. So when an opportunity to engage turned lame quickly, he acknowledged that and got back to the music. He was in good spirits this night, but you get the sense that this could be different on another. He even shared a story at a fan’s request of an infamously off night at a past Newport Folk Festival when he drank too much Strawberry Moonshine.
He finished off the night with a piano-driven encore of “Bored in the U.S.A;” a ballad that takes on everything from capitalism to religion. At one point Tillman hijacked an audience members iPhone and finished the second part of the song singing directly into it selfie-style perhaps just to paint a paradox between his thematic stage design and his own self-recognized narcissism. As if that wasn’t an epic enough ending, he then asked if anyone knew any Leonard Cohen before covering “I’m Your Man,” and throwing it back to the last song off of Fear Fun “I’m your Companion” to end things.
Drinking the kool-aid is certainly one way of describing the passionate fandom of Father John Misty that I have now firmly declared myself a part of. Another would be that the dude is simply a larger than life star, the total package of an artist who can really do it all: write, sing, perform and all with an air of possessed conviction that affirm that his life as a self-involved, incredibly honest and introspective artist is one that he’s been forced to live, whether he likes it or not.
