This review originally appeared on richmond.com.
Brown’s Island on Friday wasn’t filled to the brim for Father John Misty. Behind the moderately thick sea of people surrounding the stage, most people were sitting down, with others lying in the grass, taking in the perfectly clear skies and 70-degree temperatures.
It was a show at which it felt right to be sitting in a lawn chair, 70 yards away. You didn’t have to be front and center to get the full effect. With his intimate musical style; his silky vocals; and his gentle, nostalgia-inducing guitar strums that mimic the feeling of a Popsicle melting between your teeth, he could pull anyone in within a mile’s reach.
Joshua Tillman picked the stage name Father John Misty as an ode to his rigidly enforced Christian upbringing and his brief consideration of becoming a minister. But while he clearly changed his mind on that career path, his live shows still feel like a religious experience.
He kicked the night off with a fan favorite, “I Love You, Honeybear,” distilling the love he has for his wife, Emma, and how others will never completely understand it into a compact 4 ½-minute track.
It’s easy to notice how much he loves what he’s doing: He dances like he’s at home with his wife, swaying back and forth, wrapping his arms around the back of his head, completely feeling himself and the moment. As he croons over the bouncy guitar riff, the world feels perfectly still for a second, and utter serenity ensues.
The highlight of the night was “Goodbye Mr. Blue,” a song about the death of a fictional cat. Before starting the track, Father John Misty asked the crowd if anyone had lost a pet, and someone said they lost their rabbit, Guinness. He said, “You look more like an iguana girl,” but continued, “From my mouth to God’s ears, this one is for Guinness.”
And then he ripped into it.
Over those fluttering acoustic guitar strums, his voice runs like honey down a biscuit, like he was made for that sole purpose. His subtle hums between each verse feel like a brain massage and, as he begs his ex that the cat they bought together dying is a sign they should reconnect, you find yourself cheering for him without knowing the circumstances just because he sounds so dreamy.
The only thing missing was that his intricate lighting display, which changed colors with each song, shined down purple during this track. He had a perfect opportunity here, and he blew it.
There’s nothing to which Father John Misty’s work can be compared. It’s all so hyper-specific, like “Q4,” a track about a budding writer and her publishing house’s financial state during the final quarter of the year. He pelts you with details but not to the point that it’s overbearing. He hooks you with zesty riffs that make you feel like you’re flying.
It’s so easy to get lost in the storytelling and then get pulled back to reality with his otherworldly sonic features. It’s all so exquisite live that it wouldn’t be shocking if all his studio recordings were one-and-dones. (He just last week released a live EP, “Live at Electric Lady,” that’s proof enough.)
Father John Misty looked like he was having fun out there, and the crowd could feel it. He didn’t worry about crinkling up his dapper black jacket; he didn’t seem to mind sweating through the white shirt beneath it. He didn’t say much between songs because he was too zoned in to his craft, but he left everything and then some on that stage, like the entire city of Richmond was watching him — and it should’ve been.
Bre Callahan 