Nine years after I Love You, Honeybear catapulted Josh Tillman from a modest indie singer-songwriter and ex-Fleet Foxes drummer to a critical darling, Father John Misty’s reputation precedes him. By now, fans know what to expect from his releases: darkly comedic explorations of existential dread, biting social commentary, and self-aware confessions of his role in a crumbling world. His music offers bleakly humorous takes on relationships, ageing, and identity, often set against the backdrop of Los Angeles—a recurring character in his work.
His latest album, Mahashmashana, checks all these familiar boxes while finding new and enthralling ways to expand on them. The title track opens with a lush melody reminiscent of Elton John’s early 1970s work, paired with a Phil Spector-esque grandeur akin to George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. The song takes its name from a Sanskrit term meaning “great cremation ground,” setting a foreboding tone as Tillman alternates between envisioning a post-apocalyptic dawn and recounting a fractured relationship with vivid, sardonic imagery. As always, Tillman’s ability to mix the profound with the self-deprecating shines through. “Such revelations,” he sings on the title track with an audible eye roll, “which only singers can describe.” On I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All, humanity is a “himbo Ken doll” parachuted into the Anthropocene for God’s amusement, while Summer’s Gone muses, “Against your will comes wisdom and 40 more years ahead.” Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose is a standout, a hilariously uncomfortable sequel to 2015’s The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apartment. Here, he’s trapped with a companion who cluelessly declares her love for jazz while playing Astral Weeks. Meanwhile, his microdose of LSD kicks in too hard, leaving him communing with a clown painting and questioning reality. These moments of wit, paired with Tillman’s knack for painfully relatable observations, highlight his unique voice in music.
Even when addressing well-trodden themes, Tillman elevates them with sharp writing. Mental Health critiques modern life’s surveillance culture and the performative nature of online identity, describing it as a “panopticon” where self-surveillance reigns supreme. The chorus, laced with dry humor, advises: “Mental health, mental health, no one knows you like yourself. You two should speak in the presence of a licensee.” Musically, Mahashmashana is just as ambitious. Across nine tracks, Tillman leaps from the jittery electronic pop of Screamland, featuring Low’s Alan Sparhawk, to the breezy yacht rock of I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All. There’s even a sublime Great American Songbook homage on Summer’s Gone. With lush strings and cinematic female backing vocals, Mental Health evokes the drama of late 1950s ballads.Though Mahashmashana may not win over skeptics, it solidifies Tillman’s reputation as a masterful songwriter. His melodies are beautifully crafted, and his lyrics balance wit, s elf-awareness, and deep introspection. For an artist so often consumed by angst and apocalypse, Josh Tillman appears to be thriving.