Watching Father John Misty's theatrical, wildly entertaining set at the Orpheum last night (April 5), it was difficult to know whether to laugh, cry or be turned on.
On the one hand, the songwriter born Joshua Tillman oozed sexy, sleazy charisma; he spent much of the near-two-hour set slithering around the stage, flamboyantly gesticulating to emphasize every line and falling to his knees to croon into the faces in the front row.
Wearing a slim-cut dark suit, a suggestively low-buttoned shirt, and daring heels that emphasized his height, he led his six backing players in the stately Laurel Canyon folk anthem "Only Son of the Ladiesman," and he waggled his hips suggestively on the honky-tonk pastiche "Tee Pees 1-12."
The crowd shrieked with delight for these hilarious antics, particularly when he flung his guitar 20-odd feet into the air and into the waiting arms of a roadie at the midway point of "Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow." He barely spoke between songs, but his physical presence was magnetic.
On the other hand, Misty's humour came with an aftertaste of cynicism. His lyrics frequently painted a harrowing portrait of the modern world: he sung about art's carbon footprint on "Now I'm Learning to Love the War," and he used air quotes when singing about love on the dystopian "Holy Shit."
Most devastating of all was "Bored in the U.S.A.," a stripped-bare piano ballad about 21st century malaise and consumerism. He led the enraptured audience in punctuating each depressing lyric with facetious cheers, and he grabbed a fan's iPhone and crooned the final lines directly into the lens, selfie-style.
The main part of the set ended with "I Love You, Honeybear," a wildly romantic, apocalyptic serenade during which Tillman accepted a bouquet from someone in the front row and then proceeded to rub the flowers on his crotch. For the encore, he returned for a balladic solo rendition of "I Went to the Store One Day" followed by a faithful cover of the Beatles' "Revolution."
The performance ended with a nightmarish rendition of "The Ideal Husband," during which Misty bellowed with larynx-abusing intensity. Thrashing and gyrating while listing off his many character flaws, it was a frightening spectacle that emphasized the dark side of the songwriter's seductive charm.
On the one hand, the songwriter born Joshua Tillman oozed sexy, sleazy charisma; he spent much of the near-two-hour set slithering around the stage, flamboyantly gesticulating to emphasize every line and falling to his knees to croon into the faces in the front row.
Wearing a slim-cut dark suit, a suggestively low-buttoned shirt, and daring heels that emphasized his height, he led his six backing players in the stately Laurel Canyon folk anthem "Only Son of the Ladiesman," and he waggled his hips suggestively on the honky-tonk pastiche "Tee Pees 1-12."
The crowd shrieked with delight for these hilarious antics, particularly when he flung his guitar 20-odd feet into the air and into the waiting arms of a roadie at the midway point of "Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow." He barely spoke between songs, but his physical presence was magnetic.
On the other hand, Misty's humour came with an aftertaste of cynicism. His lyrics frequently painted a harrowing portrait of the modern world: he sung about art's carbon footprint on "Now I'm Learning to Love the War," and he used air quotes when singing about love on the dystopian "Holy Shit."
Most devastating of all was "Bored in the U.S.A.," a stripped-bare piano ballad about 21st century malaise and consumerism. He led the enraptured audience in punctuating each depressing lyric with facetious cheers, and he grabbed a fan's iPhone and crooned the final lines directly into the lens, selfie-style.
The main part of the set ended with "I Love You, Honeybear," a wildly romantic, apocalyptic serenade during which Tillman accepted a bouquet from someone in the front row and then proceeded to rub the flowers on his crotch. For the encore, he returned for a balladic solo rendition of "I Went to the Store One Day" followed by a faithful cover of the Beatles' "Revolution."
The performance ended with a nightmarish rendition of "The Ideal Husband," during which Misty bellowed with larynx-abusing intensity. Thrashing and gyrating while listing off his many character flaws, it was a frightening spectacle that emphasized the dark side of the songwriter's seductive charm.
