★★★★★
Few contemporary singers have been able to master turning poetry into song quite like Father John Misty. The former Fleet Foxes drummer turned indie-music outcast is best known for his feel-good song “Real Love Baby,” with 370 million streams on Spotify. Most of his discography, however, is not nearly as conventional as his 2016 hit.
Josh Tillman, who adopted Father John Misty as his stage name, is known for his odd lyrics and concept albums that blur fiction with reality. His sixth studio album Mahashmashana is no different. The album takes the listener through various genres and abstract explorations of truth, all while maintaining a sound distinctly its own.
The album’s titular song, “Mahashmashana,” is a lyrical epic, clocking in at over nine minutes long. Emerging from sweeping violins and soulful saxophone, Tillman’s lyrics are at first daunting to any listener trying to glean a clear message from the song. As it progresses, Tillman’s words become clearer—and more ominous.
“A perfect lie can live forever / The truth don’t fare as well / It isn’t perched on lips mid-laughter / It ain’t the kind of thing you tell,” sings Tillman, shortly before the song devolves into high-pitched violin screeches.
Over the course of the album, Tillman attempts to tell the elusive “truth” mentioned in the first track in a variety of ways. Mahashmashana proves that the truth can appear messy and confusing but is ultimately beautiful.
The album’s second track, “She Cleans Up,” is far more playful sounding, with an instrumental introduction reminiscent of The Velvet Underground’s “Rock & Roll.” Tillman’s vocal distortion and dissonant electric guitar riffs, coupled with the song’s strong backing bass, make for a much heavier track than Tillman’s usual instrumentals.
Tillman continues his tradition of including a self-referential track title in each record with his third track, “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose.” Beginning with the kind of piano riff that tells the listener they’re about to hear a story, the song is a darkly funny rendition of Tillman’s usual storytelling formula. Whether the tale is true or not remains up for interpretation.
“I saw something I shouldn’t see / The awful truth, bare reality / That I’d forfeit my existence / If someone let me just play with them,” croons Tillman.
If Tillman’s songs are drawn from reality, his is contemplative and bleak.
The next track, “Mental Health,” finds an equally hopeless version of the truth of human existence, returning to sweeping piano and violin instrumentals. Its lyrics argue the potential futility of the way society currently treats mental health problems.
“Your true self / Oh, they’d love if you could find it / Makes you much less hard work to predict / One of these label’s bound to fit,” he sings.
“Screamland,” the album’s fifth track, is the contemporary counterpart to “Mahashmashana.” Both are climactic peaks of the album, but where “Mahashmashana” builds up to a classic orchestral crescendo, “Screamland” surprises listeners with an electronically distorted beat drop as Tillman fittingly scream-sings the word “screamland” on repeat.
Following the crashing end of “Screamland” is the creeping beginning of “Being You,” in which Tillman sings about identity dissonance and feeling removed from one’s true self.
“After the jump, I’m not even sure who’s left / Maybe the stunt guy was my true self,” he sings.
The next track, which stands at just under nine minutes, is a jazzy number with a beat that feels more appropriate for a disco club than its lyrics suggest. “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All” is another song that contains several smaller stories within its verses, tying each back to the song’s titular theme.
“Don’t ask the love you dare for a prediction / Wherein the lovers of tomorrow are involved / I guess time just makes fools of us all,” Tillman sings.
Despite an ill-fitting handheld drum solo that brings down the song’s energy, it serves as a catchy reminder that we often don’t see the truth of a situation until we’re far removed from it.
It wouldn’t be a Father John Misty record without at least one nostalgic ballad sounding as if it were pulled straight from the lovers’ farewell scene of an old Hollywood movie. This album is no exception, ending with the bittersweet “Summer’s Gone.” Soft piano chords back Tillman’s soulful voice, as violins swell in the silence between lyrics.
“When against your will, comes wisdom / And 40 more years left ahead / Wish it all away / The heat of the day / Until summer’s gone,” he sings.
The concluding track perfectly encapsulates the album’s theme of fully embracing life’s triumphs and hardships in order to get closer to the true version of yourself, whatever that may be. Tillman shows listeners that life, much like the tracklist of Mahashmashana, is short, but every second is worth paying attention to.
