OF ALL the hot tickets in the King Tut’s 25th birthday month of hot tickets, could this Father John Misty show be the hottest of them all? It was at least hot enough to generate an anticipatory coating of condensation. “The walls are strangely wet,” noted our host. “It’s the moisture of our love,” was the comeback from the crowd.
Father John Misty
King Tut’s, Glasgow
Father John Misty, the man, the myth, the band, are touring on the back of a new album, I Love You, Honeybear, destined to become one of this year’s cult successes. This tall, hirsute, charismatic individual was, it now appears, wasted on the drum stool of Fleet Foxes.
Launching his solo career as J Tillman, he has since flourished in the role of Father John Misty, finding a musical voice which is soaring and stirring, passionate and melodramatic, cutting and sarcastic, a rootsier cousin of his contemporaries John Grant and Rufus Wainwright.
This set was a joy from start to finish, taking in the romantic apocalypse of I Love You, Honeybear, Only Son of the Ladies’ Man, his cosmic Americana ode to a fallen gigolo, the glorious but caustic Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt and his most epic snark Bored in the USA.
Tillman used that same wit to skewer hecklers and briefly inverted the melody, order and righteousness of his sound with a freakout finale foray into the crowd for the laying on of hands. Ours, not his. Father John Misty came not to preach, but to bless.
Seen on 23.02.15