JOSH Tillman emerges from the darkness to a stage lit up like a sunrise. We are seated — yes, seated — and uncertain, like schoolchildren hauled into assembly or sinners at Sunday church.
The venue choice later becomes the topic of much debate among punters post-gig. And now the singer himself awkwardly acknowledges the formality of the Melbourne Recital Centre set-up. But somehow it seems right. We know we’re not here for a standard gig. When the former Fleet Foxes drummer takes the stage as Father John Misty it’s more than a concert; it’s theatre. It’s Tillman shimmying, sashaying, thrusting. Tillman falling to his knees. Tillman caressing a microphone stand, twirling it around his body, and throwing it to the ground before it snaps back up to his hand with one effortless kick. It’s his droll one-liners. Every song’s a self-contained act and Tillman the star. It’s part tragedy, part comedy, and wholly enthralling.
Something spiritual is happening, too. And it’s here the space — with its earthy tones, and high-ceilings made of Australian-timber that have you feeling cocooned inside a tree trunk — really adds to the effect. The American is on his knees, further scuffing his worn-out skinny-leg jeans. We surrender, too, motionless in our seats and ready for our Father to take us on a mind-bending journey. Above him coloured beams of light, like 3D lotuses, add to the psychedelic effect; we are moved to a higher place. And like those blinding lights, the ideas come close to overwhelming; it’s music made to open the mind. We sit with heads tilted back, eyes closed — questioning the state of the world. But just as the thoughts stray too near existential crisis territory the tone abruptly changes.
Our moustachioed music minister strokes his facial hair.
He wants to know what is our generation’s obsession with the mo’, anyway?
Don’t we realise they’re more fitting of some kind of sicko sex pest?
During a brief pause in When You’re Smiling and Astride Me, a man yells out “I love you, Josh”.
To that, Tillman quips “A random male’s voice in the darkness- yeah, that’s why I started doing this … and now I’m knee deep”.
And when the feedback screeches, he welcomes us to the “noise-jazz portion” of the night without missing a beat.
It’s moments like this that prove Tillman isn’t afraid to take the piss — importantly — out of himself. The self-deprecation helps endear the audience and adds warmth to the singer’s sometimes too-cool persona. It’s also a reminder that no matter how bad the world may be there is always an opportunity for laughter. Likewise, peppering the performance with sudden upbeat bursts of music helps avoid a deep depression. The theme of his latest album, Pure Comedy, is really anything but what the title suggests. And, with the first four songs played coming from that album, the mood at the start looks set to remain sombre. It is a welcome relief, therefore, to later hear favourites from the more lighthearted 2015 album.
But it’s also a song from that record that becomes the only source of disappointment. Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins) normally sounds like falling in love. But tonight it is rushed; Tillman lacks passion and appears eager to just get it over with. We are left feeling like a woman whose lover has rushed through the metaphorical entree in order to quickly reap the rewards of the main course. It’s quite a blow to an otherwise generous performance.
All is forgiven when Tillman invites us to our feet part-way through Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings. We feel freed and burst out of our seats. We melt while he gets into the front row and suggestively gestures during I love You, Honeybear. When the band leaves the stage we stomp and demand more. They returns and deliver the promised “bangers”. The show ends on the The Ideal Husband. And with that Father John Misty proves he’s the master of knowing just what people wanna hear.
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