And everyone fell in love: Father John Misty at EartH, Hackney
Earlier this week, Father John Misty played a show at London’s looming Royal Albert Hall. The thought of his suit-sporting frame commanding the beautiful and historic hall was a thought so alluring it sent a shiver down my spine – I did not have a ticket. But it’s fine, I told myself, it’s fine. I’ve seen Tillman in every possible context. I’ve seen the band show, I’ve seen him at festivals, I’ve seen him with an orchestra. Who cares about the Royal Albert Hall…it’s fine.
An acoustic set is a hit or miss type of thing. It can only go one of two ways – sheer beauty or sheer boredom. It’s sometimes hard to be impressive with nothing but an acoustic guitar and a piano, and I guiltily wondered for a moment if Father John Misty, or Josh Tillman, was the right pick for this. Here we have a man whose work is always indulgent and grand, even when he’s actively trying not to be on his more thoughtful compositions.
Walking into EartH in Hackney for the early show at 7pm, the thought of the Royal Albert Hall came back to me like a mocking little laugh in the back of my brain – should’ve got tickets — idiot. But then the second Tillman appeared, simple and stripped back with one accompanist on piano and an acoustic guitar in hand, strumming the opening chord of ‘I Love You, Honeybear’, I could’ve turned and laughed at any patron who was at that show instead of this one.
It landed instantly on the sheer beauty side of things. Maybe it’s the power of a cult leader type man like him, instantly hypnotising the room and having them locked in on his every word, every note, every move. Maybe it’s the crystal clear sound quality in the old theatre that makes up one of London’s best venues, which makes you feel like he’s singing directly to you. Who knows. Either way, the result is a night that forces the crowd to listen to these songs in a new way. A sit down, shut up and pay attention type night where everyone leaves with an even higher appreciation of the man and his talent, as if we’ve been let in on a secret a crowd at a more showy set would have missed out on hearing.
But then the crowd at any show would say this next line- Tillman’s charm is intoxicating. It feels like every single person in the room is head over heels in love, especially as we crack up at any minor move he makes; a subtle eye roll at his own melodrama, a quick quip of “it’s a sad song” in the middle of a dark verse. As his songs are stripped back and revealed in this more intimate setting of an acoustic show, Tillman seems to be confronting them too, but with a laugh and a joke. “Last night I wrote a poem, man, I must have been in the poem-zone,” he sings in the angsty track ‘The Palace’ before punching the air, making a joke about his own stupid line as the room laps it up, giggling away like love-struck fools.
It’s an interesting exchange. After being given permission to laugh that first time, the chuckles keep coming. It again comes down to this context, where the music is laid bare. Without the distraction, the gags are revealed, along with the sharpness of his social commentary in songs like ‘Total Entertainment Forever’ or ‘The Memo’, and the downright silliness of so many of his lyrical decisions and turns of phrase. Tillman’s own willingness to break the tension of his own work to laugh a little at his own work makes it so fun, and doubles down on the charisma that the whole room is falling for.
And everyone shoots their shot in the request portion of the evening. The crowd throws out a scattering of niche tracks, but everyone is overjoyed when he decides on the hit: ‘Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins)’, a song the latter show missed out on (although they got a Beatles cover.) I sat there listening, and it struck me here, for about the fifth time that night, song after song, that this is a truly perfect track. His lyricism is so uniquely his own that it has undeniably launched a thousand copycats since. So has his velvet slick, semi-crooning vocals. But no one could ever outdo the original when he gets to the big notes, and someone in the room audibly gasps at the beauty of it.
In the bar after, all the girls are feeling fragile – that’s what love will do to you. It’s a mixed bag of emotional responses. “That’s the hottest man on earth,” one offers up. I agree. “It should be a crime to be that attractive, that talented and that funny,” everyone hums in affirmation. “I’m so jealous of him,” another says, “I’d like to be a man like that in a next life,” here, here.
