[rating=8.00]
As somewhat of a chameleon, Josh Tillman can be a daunting character for fans and critics to examine. His snarky quips and blunt provocations contrast often with his gleaming sincerity and rapt attention to the complexities and confusion of our 21st century lives. “White people problems” as the kids these days say, can often be inferred as the subject matter of much of his work, but dig deeper between the covers and it becomes clear that Tillman is often poking fun at these aspects of society and critiquing them with a watchful eye. “If they tell you you’re a genius but you need some proof/Ask anybody on the payroll to go out with you/If they avoid ya, then they’ll award ya definitely”, he deadpans on his 2012 album, Fear Fun. That he sings these observations with a genuinely soulful croon that can make many of his fans swoon makes him all the more interesting and complex.
A self-proclaimed satirist and provocateur, Tillman has already served up a healthy dose of rock and roll legend. He formerly recorded a couple of seriously bummed-out acoustic albums before joining up with his friends as the drummer in Fleet Foxes. As that band’s acclaim was reaching a fever pitch, Tillman left and soon found himself up in the woods near Big Sur with a Canadian shaman and a bag of psychedelics, experiencing mind-altering glimpses into his true identity. Thus was born Father John Misty, a larger-than-life, freewheeling personality that gave Tillman the confidence and swagger necessary to set sail on his own course, one that has come a whole lot farther than most would have assumed just a few, short years ago.
Fear Fun announced Father John Misty’s presence loud and clear, with a bombastic and generally gregarious collection of tunes that earned him positive press and catapulted him to headlining touring status. A few years later, here he’s back with the follow-up: I Love You, Honeybear. Like the title implies, he has written an unabashed love album, though in keeping with his cagey style, it’s a deeply complex and oftentimes contradictory take on love, far removed from the sentimental, saccharine tinged paeans to romance to which we’re habitually accustomed. On his Sub Pop artist webpage, written with his typically witty and arcane voice, Tillman goes to great lengths to explain both his involved thoughts on the various meanings and expressions of love and his rationale for writing from this perspective. It’ll take a little of your time and patience to work through, but it really serves as a seamless companion piece to the album. What it really all boils down to, though, is the fact that a few years ago, he met a woman named Emma (now his wife) and fell deeply and truly in love. The results drastically changed his outlook on things, and for the second time in three years, Tillman experienced a life-altering epiphany.
While love is generally at the crux of the album’s eleven tracks, Tillman still questions things and allows plenty of room for doubt and anxiety to creep back into the picture. Though he’s happily ensconced in a relationship, he remains aware of pitfalls and hang-ups that can come along as collateral baggage: “I brought my mother’s depression/You’ve got your father’s scorn and aunt’s wayward schizophrenia”, he sings on the opening title track. Elsewhere, as on “Chateau Lobby #4 (In C for Two Virgins) he can disappear into his love: “People are boring/But you’re something else I can’t explain/Here: take my last name”; but then can ruminate on what may be lurking ahead in the future, as he does on “When You’re Smiling And Astride Me”: “I can hardly believe I’ve found you/And I’m terrified by that”. (Side note: Tillman is really creative at naming his songs).
There’s also his trademark humor present to balance out the insightfulness. Those who are tired of the misuse/overuse of the word “literally” will find much to appreciate in the opening lines he fires off in “The Night Josh Tillman Came To Our Apartment” (like, I said, he’s good at titling songs). Musically, this is an album that swings with mariachi snippets, aims for the heavens with some Fleet Foxes-worthy chorale vocals, and even dabbles in a surprisingly edgy techno beat or two. There’s also a good deal of stripped-down, plaintive acoustic melodies that anchor the foundation of most of the material, regardless of whether the sound takes off in wider directions. It’s a foundation that keeps things rooted and simple and shows just how easy it is for Tillman to perform solo with just a guitar when not belting things out with a larger band onstage. At times, one may wish for a harder edge or two to bleed through, but there are typically enough left turns and detours to keep listeners alert and entertained.
In the end, Tillman’s latest work serves as a love letter filtered through his complex and beguiling eye. Perhaps surprisingly, it’s actually fairly relatable and universal in its themes and expressions. Everyone has experienced the fragilities and emotional swings of love. Just not many can express those feelings as uniquely as Father John Misty.
One Response
Great review of a complex album.