Halfway through the show, J. Tillman looked to the back of
the venue, where there’s a bar lined with mirrors. He gazed at his reflection,
wondering out loud, “who is that anorexic homeless person dancing around in his
long underwear?”
And although that was a harsh self-assessment, he scattered
antics like this throughout the show, tackling everything from Kentucky’s
stance on the Iraq war (neutral, he explained – like only one other state – his
home state of Maryland) to how Kentucky must have had the most onstage silverware
per capita (he found a spoon within the first two minutes of the set, and
stopped the opening number, “Funtimes in Babylon,” midway to explain).
It was this attitude, this freeness, that set the tone for
the show. With ease, Tillman belted out songs with a voice like caramel melted
in the sun. It was as if he didn’t need to take breaths; sugary notes just fell
out of his mouth miraculously.
The smooth ooh’s and laid back vibe of “Nancy From Now On”
made you forget that he was actually singing “pour me another drink/and punch
me in the face,” and instead concentrate on the way the guitars meshed
beautifully with his voice in a blissed out melodic wonderland.
Four other people joined Tillman onstage, and though they
sounded like integral, elaborate pieces of a beating heart, the frontman was
one of those happy disasters that drew all the attention. While he played drums
with Fleet Foxes for a while, Tillman got his start as a solo artist, and the
man obviously belongs center stage.
His dance moves were reminiscent of elementary school girls
coordinating a dance to the latest boy band song – complete with finger wagging
“no’s,” shimmies, and some of the best booty shaking to ever come from a man’s
body. Britney Spears couldn’t do what he did without lip-syncing. Some of the
more dramatic moments seemed modeled on Elvis Presley’s moves.
Not everything was a dance party. The band freaked out on
“This is Sally Hatchet,” a dark, moody song that broke them free of the mostly
carefree-sounding set. The cathartic guitar breakdown begged you to close your
eyes and let it take you places. Tillman fell to the ground, stretching his
arms to the skies, reminding the crowd that these songs are more complex than
they may appear on the surface.
“Now I’m Learning to Love the War” slowed things down, but
Father John Misty bounced back up to speed with “Tee Pees 1-12.” The band made
it through nearly their entire catalog, nailing almost all dozen songs on their
debut, Fear Fun.
For Tillman to pack Headliners – after just releasing the
first album under this moniker last May – is an unusual and surprising feat. But
when the striking beat behind “Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings” echoed to the
back of the room on the last song before the encore, and Tillman seemed near
explosion with his jerking dance moves, it made sense. This was not only an
entertaining show, but one with the kind of musical genius that doesn’t come
around every day.
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