Another critic hesitated to review this, confessing a deep aversion, but for me, Father John Misty, the moniker of Josh Tillman, remains a compelling enigma. His music, particularly under the Father John Misty guise, often feels like a soundtrack to civilization’s self-inflicted downfall, a theme resonating now more than ever. His sixth album, Mahashmashana, leans directly into this sentiment, delivering a set of what can only be described as apocalyptic rock anthems where traditional solace is absent and societal structures seem to be unraveling. The emotional range is amplified, the narrative logic more circuitous, yet the songwriting itself might be Tillman’s most accomplished to date. The album title, Mahashmashana, is derived from the Sanskrit term mahāśmaśāna, signifying a cremation ground – the desolate expanse preceding rebirth. Even with a touch of spiritual tourism, Misty seems intent on reminding us of our shared mortal destination.
This concept organically evolves from his 2022 release, Chloë and the Next 20th Century, which concluded with the cyclical nature of karma and the stark instruction to “build your burial grounds on our burial grounds.” Tillman is clearly in his element here. Mahashmashana loosely divides itself into two familiar Father John Misty modes: the frenetic, almost manic, uptempo tracks and the profoundly melancholic ballads of despair. The defining characteristic of this narrator iteration is a stark awareness – a sense that if his perception is skewed, then the collective sanity of everyone else is even more questionable. “I publicly/Was treating acid with anxiety,” he delivers with characteristic deadpan delivery. He dissects the very fabric of “Amazing Grace” (“What was found is lost”) and reimagines “Howl” for a contemporary landscape of tech-bro sellouts: “The great-ish minds of my generation/Gladly conscripted in the war.” The world depicted is tainted, and the boundary between truth and fabrication is as fragile as the veil separating our world from the next. “A perfect lie can live forever,” he declares, a chilling pronouncement.
Despite the somber outlook, Mahashmashana is sonically opulent and grand. The production is lavish, almost excessive, contributing to the album’s darkly comedic and satirical edge. The title track itself is drenched in saxophone and classic Hollywood-esque strings, creating a rich, almost cinematic texture. “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose” emerges as a piece of soft rock perfectly suited for the end of days. Many of the standout tracks extend beyond the seven-minute mark, allowing for expansive musical and lyrical exploration. It’s a decadent celebration of a culture on the brink. The palpable enjoyment in crafting and composing these songs is infectious, almost justifying a prolonged stay on this earthly plane. And lest we forget the capacity for irreverent fun, consider “She Cleans Up,” a track driven by a raucous cowbell rhythm that playfully aspires to open for the Black Keys’ tour. The song’s swagger and humor are undeniable. Just when you might expect him to lapse into a straightforward rock groove, in “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” he unexpectedly delivers exactly that, subverting expectations while satisfying a primal musical urge. Listeners might find echoes of past Father John Misty albums within Mahashmashana. “Time” may resonate with those who appreciate the discursive social critiques of Pure Comedy, while “Accidental Dose” could appeal to fans charmed by the arch self-mythology of I Love You Honeybear. A moment in “Summer’s Gone” even subtly nods to Fear Fun. In many ways, Mahashmashana feels like a career-spanning work, as if Tillman is witnessing his artistic life flashing before his eyes, processing it through this latest, darkly humorous, and musically compelling lens.
