It may be difficult to work out exactly how sincere Father John Misty’s schtick is or whether to take his tales of debauchery and self-doubt literally, but there can be few better venues for some louche showmanship than the Usher Hall. The old Edinburgh theatre’s plush interiors and three tiers are made for a performer who wants to project to the very back row.
To pull off that trick however, you need to take the crowd in your palm and silence the chatterers and this evening’s entertainment shows that that is not always so easy, no matter how strong your songs are.
Singer-songwriter Butch Bastard aka LA’s Ian Murray is first on the bill.
The excellent new Butch Bastard record ‘Death Valley’ came out two weeks ago so it’s no surprise he wants to show it off. ‘If It Wasn’t For The UFOs’ in particular is a real standout, mixing mordant wit, leftfield cultural references and hazy imagery to come up with something that wouldn’t feel out of place on one of our headliner’s albums.
With a strong voice and a fresh songbook, it’s just a shame he doesn’t quite manage to quiet a talkative Edinburgh crowd. It’s their loss.
After just twenty minutes, the lights go down and Father John Misty and his band take to the stage in front of a huge red curtain.
From purveyor of exquisite harmonies as part of Fleet Foxes to his reinvention as the dapper don of lounge-alternative, the sometime psychedelic voyager has wandered a winding path.
This evening, he opens with a ten-minute Leonard Cohen-at-the-disco romp ‘I Guess Time Makes Fools Of Us All’. It’s a brave move and one that befits a track that the singer was so confident in the quality of that he attached it to a greatest hits compilation four months before it ever appeared on a studio record.
With its danceable rhythm and the well practiced hips and arms of a showman, the audience are instantly engaged in a way that they never were for his somewhat unfortunate support act.
This opening act of the show tosses out a series of reflections and refractions of his well-practiced public persona – musing on company execs concerned for their bottom line on Q4, narrating a bad trip on ‘Josh Tillman And The Accidental Dose’ and best of all, the wickedly funny ‘Mr Tillman’, in which put upon hotel desk staff must navigate the many peccadilloes of a larger-than-life rockstar.
His band are slick – and there’s plenty of love for the sax player in particular – but the real star is the bequiffed singer and his lounge lizard poses.
By the end of the main set, it’s clear that he has left the world of indie ambitions ad is more than confident musing on the big philosophical questions over the grandest of soundscapes on tracks like ‘Screamland’ and nine-minute main set closer ‘Mahashmashana’.
‘Mental Health’ is a rare miss, a snarky take on the issue that doesn’t even really work as a fun satire on wellness culture, while ‘Disappointing Diamonds Are The Rarest Ones Of All’ is never quite as entertaining as its title but by the time he delivers a pin-drop worthy version of ‘Summer’s Gone’ accompanied only by a piano, he’s more than showcased his charisma and vocal prowess.
For the finale, the mask finally seems to drop and he delivers the charming and heartfelt ‘I Love You, Honeybear’ straight down the barrel. Is this the real Father John Misty? Who can tell, but the audience seem to enjoy every one of the multitude of facets on show tonight. That’s how you silence a crowd.
Photos: Joe Paolella
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