Menu
· Killian Welsch
Lauren Ward & Alex Kweskin
Some artists build careers by revealing themselves slowly. Father John Misty did the opposite. He arrived fully formed, armed with humor, contradiction, and an almost uncomfortable level of self awareness. From the beginning, his music felt like a mirror held up at an angle, reflecting both the beauty and absurdity of being alive.
Behind the name is Josh Tillman, a songwriter who understands performance as part of the art. Father John Misty is not just a voice or a pen. It is a lens. One that sees love, faith, fame, and collapse all at once and refuses to simplify any of it.
Before becoming Father John Misty, Josh Tillman spent years releasing introspective folk records under his own name and touring as the drummer for Fleet Foxes. That chapter mattered. It sharpened his instincts and clarified what he wanted to say.
When Fear Fun arrived in 2012, it felt like a break. Not just musically, but philosophically. The songs were looser, funnier, and more self critical. He stepped forward as a narrator who was willing to be the punchline and the preacher in the same verse.
That balance became the foundation of everything that followed.
Father John Misty’s music lives somewhere between classic songwriter tradition and modern satire. The arrangements pull from Laurel Canyon folk, orchestral pop, and soft rock. The lyrics, however, are sharp, restless, and often cutting.
Albums like I Love You, Honeybear and Pure Comedy pushed that contrast even further. Love songs that felt too honest. Cultural critiques that felt uncomfortably accurate. He writes about devotion and disillusionment with the same voice, never choosing one over the other.
What makes it work is commitment. He never winks at the listener. Even when the songs are funny, the emotion underneath is real.
Each Father John Misty record feels like a reaction to the one before it. God’s Favorite Customer stripped things back. Chloë and the Next 20th Century leaned into cinematic orchestration and classic pop songwriting. He has never stayed in one place long enough to become predictable.
That restlessness is not aesthetic. It feels philosophical. Like an artist who refuses to pretend he has arrived at a final answer.
This past Friday, Father John Misty released new songs that feel quietly intentional. They do not announce a new era loudly, but they suggest movement. The writing feels reflective, focused, and unhurried.
There is a sense that something larger may be taking shape. If these tracks are a signal, they point toward another chapter rather than a reset. A continuation of an artist still asking questions instead of settling into comfort.
Father John Misty has never rushed releases, so even a subtle hint feels meaningful.
In a music landscape that often rewards certainty and branding, Father John Misty remains committed to contradiction. He allows himself to be sincere and self critical at the same time. He treats songwriting as a way to examine the world rather than escape it.
That approach keeps his work relevant. Not because it chases the moment, but because it reflects it honestly.
Father John Misty’s catalog belongs on vinyl. The arrangements are rich. The sequencing matters. The space between songs carries weight. His records reward full listens, preferably without interruption.
Whether it is the intimacy of I Love You, Honeybear or the grand scope of Pure Comedy, these are albums meant to live on shelves and be returned to when the questions feel loud again.
Revisit Fear Fun or I Love You, Honeybear this week, then queue up the new songs. Listen for what has changed and what has stayed the same.
Father John Misty remains one of the most compelling songwriters of his generation because he never pretends to have it figured out. He just keeps writing anyway.