All the Father John Misty’s you need; all here together, mostly new and mainly keepers. He is legion.

Release Date: 22nd November 2024

Label: Bella Union (UK/Europe) Subpop (RoW)

Format: CD / Vinyl / Cassette / Digital

AUDACIOUS?

There seem to have been quite a few Father John Misty’s across his career as Father John Misty, even if you entirely disallow his pre-FJM persona, when he was merely Josh Tillman, who, by the way, gets a mention on this audacious disc. Audacious? Well, yes, as it contrives to bring together all the disparate Misty’s the performer has paraded across his earlier five releases, it also casts a slight and vague nod back to his eight as Tillman. There is, however, nothing to remind of his tenure as a Fleet Fox, his tenure in the band, on drums, lasting only between 2008 and 2011. I have a friend who loves some of his output and loathes others, often consecutive albums. I really wonder what he might make of this.

Mahāśmaśāna / महामशान

Mahashmashana means, apparently, great cremation ground. Otherwise spelt as Mahāśmaśāna, or महामशान, it comes from the Sanskrit and, as a title, seems either to suggest peak self-deprecation or just plain cussedness. I’d say a bit of both. Be that as it may, it is with a swoony flourish of strings that the album, and the title track opens.

A solid drumbeat and sonorous piano greet the vocal, his distinctive thesp friendly baritone delivery a thing to admire. The auteur, for that is clearly as he sees himself, has described this 9 minute epic-ette as a corpse dance. Um, OK, whatever that is, but it is lush and opulent, full of elusive and impenetrable depictions of modern life. Randy Newman by way of Meatloaf, is what I see I have jotted, but it is all gloriously over the top, the strings grand to grandiose, with no stops spared. I am sure a choir is caught up in there, somewhere, along with more brass than Brassington, and a howling lone guitar. Ending on a single ever rising note, it is wonderful.

She Cleans Up is then a surprise, an electric piano and guitar led funky narrative that has echoes both of Subterranean Home Sick Blues and Telegram Sam. Some twisted saxes add to the sense of paranoia instilled by the monotone vocal onslaught, some occasional echo strengthens the 70’s glam vibe induced. And, naturally, it ends justlikethat, suspended mid note.

Josh Tillman And the Accidental Overdose is neither the first or last time he has ambiguously (or not) self-referenced. This song has legs, in his live shows, as No Shape, but is, in fact, full of the more orthodox end of his canon, the construction and delivery all New York singer-songwriter, circa 1973. OK, a few studio tweaks give it a knowing contemporary slant, but possibly only to further blur the veil between anecdote and allegory. I’m a sucker for any song that references “All the King’s Horses and all the King’s Men“, he following it with the ominous “You may never be whole again“. However, any song that starts “She put on Astral Weeks, said “I love Jazz”, and winked at me” is always going to be perversely provocative. It’s a great song.

MENTAL HEALTH

Mental Health begins with a saccharine symphonic assault that oozes pomp and the stagy pageantry that can smack of self-importance: think John Miles, and his “first love”, Music. Whether this is purpose or parody matters little, it is still dreamily gorgeous, if in a guilty pleasure kinda way. The acerbic lyric is at odds with the presentation, little surprise, the target perhaps the reverence with which mental health, as opposed to illness, is held now held. I think I know where he is coming from, but it is a wobbly wire to walk.

Screamland, which follows, is more muted by far, a soliloquy with piano, musing about rehab and why. Maybe. The strings are still in attendance but held back, present more for punctuation. His voice here is the least overwrought so far, with just the sufficient wrought for the context. More “I’m not in health” than “I’m not in love”, if you catch my drift. Bonus points if you can name the film referenced in the second verse.

Being You strips back the additional still further, to a drumbeat and an electric piano, Misty double tracking his vocal for a soulful meander that captures perhaps the closest sight of the man beneath the veneer, self questioning and self-doubting. The strings, when they do come, are mostly subtle and sympathetic, neither of these words much evident elsewhere. It is soppy, but feels genuine, his teeth blunted. With nothing remotely pertinent to 21st century musical styles, it is a contender for the stand out track here, vying with JT And The Accidental Overdose.

I GUESS TIME MAKES FOOLS OF ALL OF US

I Guess Time Makes Fools Of All Of Us you may know already, having been already included in the greatest hits package, Greatish Hits, that came earlier this year. Marketing ploy or otherwise, the temptation to swap the title to Time For Father John Misty To Make Fools Of Us All is hard to avoid, which, before listening, or re-listening, would be a shame. It is a disco-fied vaudeville romp, reeking of Kid Creole and evokes, a little, the mood of Funny How Time Slips Away. (So August Darnell and Willie Nelson, together! That I’d like to see). Starting with saxophone, a howling retro guitar enlivens it no end, filling some of the spaces between the early verses, some congas, and later, that saxophone again, doing the same towards the end of the song. At a third of the length it could be a contender for the singles charts, were that still a thing of any concern. I can see it cropping up in a boxset soundtrack near you, anytime now, and it is likely it is the song that will be used in any audio coverage of the disc, despite it being a reprise.

Frankly, I’d have left it there, finding the project entertaining and inviting thus far. But there is a final track, Summer’s Gone, which takes it all too far, into pastiche, a 40’s style big production weepy, where even the lyric lacks his customary invective. If this is where Josh Tillman is heading, I’ll stick with Father John, please. And with the score, by my reckoning, being FJM : 7 and JT: 1, I think the album is therefore a keeper and the easiest overall of his work to digest in one go. Produced by Drew Erickson, a lot of the credit needs to go to him, together with executive input from Jonathan Wilson, who arguably provided much the commercial gloss.

She Cleans Up:

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