Emma Tillman
Some old English bloke called Bill once wrote “All the world’s a stage”; he might just have been referring at least in part to Josh Tillman, AKA Father John Misty, an artist whose alter ego (like Ziggy Stardust, get it?) appears to be constructed from fragments of personal memory, Old Testament fundamentalism and De Niro as Max Cady.
Father John Misty‘s (for these are unambiguously his records) second album ‘I Love You, Honeybear‘ has allowed the ex Fleet Foxes drummer to hone his idiosyncratic worldview in public whilst being allegedly dug by the likes of Beyoncé, Pharrell and Lana Del Rey. A fascinating brew that works by Trojan-horsing astutely trenchant fibres of rock, country and soul onto hyper-real odes to modern love, it’s as black hearted as it’s pearly grinned, sort of Nick Cave meets Randy Newman whilst carousing with Crosby Stills & Nash. As you might’ve guessed, its appeal is complicated.
Judging by the number of super-polite millennials all friend zoning each other in the audience, it’s knowingness has also struck a chord: tonight we have target audience undoubtedly meeting target performer. Dressed in signature black jacket and white shirt and ruggedly hirsute, it’s round one to Tillman before a note has even been struck, that first stanza being the Grand Old Opry pleasing ‘Every Man Needs a Companion‘. Like almost everything performed by him and his five piece band, it’s delivered in pristine condition, a postcard from this current identity wrapped in calm, benevolent virtuosity.
Despite a set that’s evenly split between both ‘I Love You Honeybear’ and 2012’s ‘Fear Fun‘, it’s evident however from early on that the punters are mainly here to have a dose of the former’s sugar poured over them. They aren’t let down either, a flawless version of ‘When You’re Smiling and Astride Me‘ early on is then complemented by the Mariachi-friendliness of ‘Chateau Lobby #4 (Song For Two Virgins)‘, ‘Bored In The USA‘s ivory twinkling cynicism and ‘True Affection‘s Michael McDonald-like rejection of long distance love via technology.
Beneath it all however, something is missing. Perhaps it’s the hamster-on-a-wheel thought process of trying to figure out who’s actually performing – is this Josh or his Southern Gothic Jekyll? Are we meant to take his James Brown-aping stage craft – hip gyrations, knee falls, audience hook ups – at face value, or is it all part of the persona, a joke within a riddle hidden inside an enigma? We’re over thinking this, sure, but one of the night’s odder features was the lack of patter from a man known to have a view on most things and the wit to express it in a compelling way. Instead, the spaces between the songs are largely silent, like a church between hymns.
Even more beguiling is his choice of encore cover, a rendition of Nine Inch Nails‘ ‘Closer‘, a song which Trent Reznor used to flay the subject’s insecurities, guilt fed by using sex with objectified pawns. Musically incongruous, it’s of course character-perfect, but even when counterbalanced by a finale of ‘An Ideal Husband‘, the nagging doubt remains. If all the world is really a stage, then it’s hard on nights like these to find sincerity and trust, qualities which we don’t need our entertainers to feel for us, but ones which we need to believe of them.
There are worse double dates of course, and Tillman’s no Norman Bates, but even though the act is a damn fine act, it would be biblical if Father John tried a little harder to take his flock with him.
