Father John Misty @ The Eastern

As he does, Father John Misty exploded onto the stage with his trademark dance moves, met with the crowd’s roaring recognition to the beginning of fan favorite, “I Love You, Honeybear.” He’s got the style, and as his albums confirm, the evening would be full of the substance of Josh Tillman, aka Father John Misty.

Maybe “troubadour” is too often used to describe Father John Misty, but it fits. He’s a story teller of tales that amaze and confuse, express joy and sorrow, and generally twist observations about life and relationships with prose… that isn’t just for everybody. So it’s a certain audience that is willing to take on the artistic cleverness of what seems to suggest an exhaustingly introspective life experience.

The Eastern held to its end of hosting the tale, with crystal clear sound to follow along the lyrical path and amazing lighting to highlight the feel of the songs. Pain, humor, sarcasm, wit… wherever he goes, I doubt many would want to follow, but to absorb his interpretation of life, whether live or recording, is beyond satisfying.

An example can be found in any song, but the tension found in most of his song even finds its way to his banter with the audience. When he asks has anyone lost a pet, the names come forth. Lucy was one. Then he dedicates a song to Lucy, and others.

Of course, it’s not about a lost pet. It’s about the realization after his cat died that he hadn’t valued the love that he had for it until it was gone. But that’s still not the point of the song. Had the cat died sooner, he might have valued a personal relationship more that ended with the same realization. As FJM songs go, that is about as straightforward as it gets. (“Goodbye Mr. Blue”).

Later, he introduces “Please Don’t Die” after pontificating about the audience’s current condition – up or down? Ambiguously speculated as likely both, he deadpans, “Here’s a song about dying.” There’s humor in that, but it’s a dark humor that speaks of surviving through pain. That type of tension is rampant in his songs.

After a somewhat comedic “Only Son of a Ladiesman,” a song about the unhappy women after the “ladiesman” dies, he introduces his next song with, “It gets worse.”

In a solo spotlight, Tillman then begins “Things It Would Have Been Helpful to Know Before the Revolution,” the lyrics and the music building to reflect a tale of the great uh-oh when society self-destructs. The live presentation extended the rather modest four minute recording to that of an anthemic centerpiece, which after a charged middle, ended with Tillman again in the solo spotlight, mankind’s fragility prevailing.

The support for his generous 23-song set included a nine member band, including bass, two guitarists, drummer, two keyboardists (with a Mellotron?), and a three person brass section. Tillman owns the audience, the stage and the spotlight, but whether featured or left to their roles, the band was splendid.

The evening included six songs from his latest album which, musically, more closely aligns with the crooner aspects of his stage performance, featuring a big band feel with the brass section. His lyrics remain as inventive as ever, but they’re a bit less caustic in the emotional upheaval category. Still, they fit well within the setlist, another shade or styling for the stories he tells.

That said, crooners don’t crash to their knees to emote. FJM does. On stage, FJM seems to have a direct line between emotion and physical interpretation.

Misty featured eleven songs off of his first two albums, likely the period when he attracted the majority of his fans. Songs like “Nancy From Now On,” “Pure Comedy,” “I’m Writing a Novel” and others made it a participatory event in response to the spectacle of FJM.

Overall, it was phenomenal presentation. As confusing as Tillman’s lyrics might be, his performance is consistently polished, bringing additional layers to his songs that listening alone just can’t fulfill.

The opener, Suki Waterhouse, laid down a great set with her three piece band. It’s hard to tell whether the model and actress is familiar with singing on stage, but she certainly had a great presence. Her voice is well suited to reverb heavy, relational ethos. Three ladies on the railing caught on to her on Twitter and came specifically to see her. She quickly caught on that she had fans singing along and gave them due attention. Waterhouse recently released her first album, I Can’t Let Go, and didn’t sound like an opening act, evidenced by a growing crowd giving her full attention, which is very promising.