Father John Misty : Mahashmashana Review

by Shannon Smith

Father John Misty—born Joshua Michael Tillman—has made a career as an enigmatic figure, both a purveyor of biting social satire and a seeker of deeper existential truths. His journey from J. Tillman’s introspective acoustic folk roots to the lush, expansive sonic palette of Father John Misty has been marked by continuous reinvention. Mahashmashana, his sixth album, is the latest chapter in that evolution. The album speaks with a voice more intimate than Pure Comedy, but more expansive than God’s Favorite Customer. This album, co-produced by Tillman and Drew Erickson, invites listeners into an exploration of ego death, existential musings, and the universal cycles of life and death. The title, drawn from the Sanskrit word meaning “great cremation ground,” sets the philosophical tone that runs through these eight songs, delivered with grandeur and poignancy. Tillman is shedding the irony—or at least wrapping it in a new, more personal sincerity—while still retaining the sharp, insightful wit that has characterized his work.

The album opens with the nearly ten-minute title track, “Mahashmashana,” an expansive midtempo rock expression that evokes the spirit of an era-defining mix of reflective melancholy and hopeful transcendence, characterized by rich instrumental layering and a contemplative yet uplifting mood. The track unfolds with a measured, meditative pace, with luscious strings leading the listener into a contemplative space. Tillman offers the cryptic koan, “Mahashmashana / All is silent / And in the next universal dawn / Won’t have to do the corpse dance with these arms,” as Drew Erickson’s outstanding orchestration builds alongside Tillman’s lyrics, leading to a climactic moment where the instrumentation takes center stage. The lush cinematic orchestra interlude, crowned by Dan Higgins’ soaring saxophone solo, sweeps the listener away, echoing the song’s lyrical meaning. It is a track that encapsulates the album’s themes of transformation and dissolution, urging listeners to confront the impermanence of all things.

“Screamland” follows a similar trajectory but with a more contemporary and darker orchestral flair that blends indie rock, folk, and contemporary classical with a dash of The Killers’ bombast. The song builds upon Tillman’s talent for emotional crescendos, drawing the listener in with sweeping strings, low-key guitars, steady rock drumming, and lyrics that echo a profound sense of existential isolation. “Stay young / Get numb / Keep dreaming / Screamland,” Tillman sings, his voice eventually swallowed by a musical flurry that abruptly cuts off—a vivid illustration of ego death.

“Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose” brings us a psychedelic moment that grows from a subdued acid blues shuffle that gradually transforms with flowing strings and band hits. Lyrically, it is Tillman at his most self-revelatory: “Around this time, I publicly / Was treating acid with anxiety / I was unwell, and suddenly / Her clown portraits spoke to me.” It’s a portrayal of the fracturing of identity, with the imagery suggesting a self that may never fully recover.

On “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” Tillman taps into seventies disco territory, wrapping introspective lyrics in an upbeat, infectious horn-punctuated groove. The late ’70s influence—part funk, part glam—provides a surprising and fitting contrast to the more mellow material. It’s a track that acknowledges the absurdity of life’s passage with a knowing wink, a testament to Tillman’s ability to balance introspection with playful bravado. Tony Barba’s outstanding saxophone solo adds a layer of vintage flair and energy.

The closing track, “Summer’s Gone,” channels the smoky allure of an old Sinatra ballad, pairing Tillman’s crooning vocals with a resigned reflection on fleeting moments. The orchestral arrangement is lush and cinematic, a fitting conclusion to an album that contemplates the inevitability of endings and the beauty inherent in their transience. Erickson’s arrangement is outstanding, giving the song shape, development, and sonic interest.

Mahashmashana reflects Father John Misty’s ongoing commitment to sonic exploration. Drew Erickson’s orchestral arrangements are a highlight, bringing a cinematic quality to the album that is lush, varied, and building. Whether evoking the sweeping grandeur of a golden-age Hollywood score or the intimacy of a chamber orchestra, Erickson’s touch elevates each song’s mood to create an immersive soundscape that enhances Tillman’s lyrical themes and vocals.

Tillman’s vocal performance is another standout aspect of the album. His voice moves seamlessly between intimacy and grandiosity, adapting to the emotional needs of each track. On “Being You,” Tillman’s restrained delivery mirrors the song’s lyrical introspection, while on “I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All,” his vocals exude a swagger that matches the track’s disco flair.

The album’s production is intricate, with meticulous attention to detail. BJ Burton’s mixing work, particularly on “Screamland” and “Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose,” ensures that the sonic elements—from sweeping strings to psychedelic effects—are layered in a way that feels both rich and cohesive. The result is an album that feels grand yet grounded, allowing the listener to lose themselves in its sonic landscape.

At its core, Mahashmashana is an album about ego death, existential introspection, and the dissolution of the self. The imagery Tillman uses—drawn from mythology, psychedelia, and everyday life—creates a tapestry that invites listeners to confront their own fears, vulnerabilities, and, ultimately, the impermanence of their existence. “Mahashmashana” and “Screamland” delve into these themes with a sense of both fear and wonder, capturing the beauty and terror of letting go.

On a personal level, this album feels like a shedding of layers for Tillman. There are moments where the Father John Misty persona seems to dissolve, revealing glimpses of Josh Tillman beneath the veneer. This vulnerability—wrapped in opulent production and delivered with Tillman’s characteristic wit—makes Mahashmashana one of his most compelling works to date.

Mahashmashana is an album that requires patience and invites repeated listens. At first, its sprawling, genre-blending nature can feel overwhelming, almost like a mosaic of scattered fragments. But with each listen, the pieces start to form a more coherent picture—one of an artist wrestling with the nature of selfhood, the passage of time, and the inevitability of dissolution. Father John Misty has always been an astute observer of the human condition, and here, he directs the proceedings with a gravitas that feels earned. The album’s themes of ego death and transformation are matched by its lush, dynamic soundscapes, offering a listening experience that is thought-provoking and emotionally resonant. In Mahashmashana, Tillman has crafted an album that is a meditation on life, death, and everything in between.