Misty Mountain Hop: Father John Misty at the Eventim Apollo

© Simon Poulter 2017

It's a mark of my age that, on crossing Hammersmith Broadway, I could only think of the venue for this congregation for Father John Misty as the "Hammersmith Odeon". This is despite it having gone through numerous changes of sponsor over the last 30-odd years: Labatt's Apollo, Hammersmith Apollo, Carling Apollo, HMV Hammersmith Apollo and latterly the Eventim Apollo. But whomever's name sits above that distinctive, Grade-II listed art deco frontispiece, 'Hammy Odeon' will forever be one of London's most celebrated concert venues, thanks in part to being where Bruce Springsteen made his UK live debut in 1975, where Bowie ended the Ziggy Stardust tour two years before, and being venue of numerous live albums, most famously Motörhead's legendary No Sleep 'til Hammersmith.

It is, then, with this significant '70s rock heritage that in should roll Misty, the current incarnation of Josh Tillman, and the persona of a louche '70s rock star, plying wry, heartfelt folk-rock as if straight from West Hollywood's very own Troubadour. Tillman is blessed with all the accoutrements of the LA Canyon Cowboy, with great, long rock god hair, a magnificent beard, and a dry, cynical humour, all redolent of Billy Crudup’s Russell Hammond in Almost Famous. On top of this, he has a wonderful voice, melodic talent and stage presence to make Springsteen and indeed Jagger look like shrinking violets.

Now, re-read those musical reference points again: it’s no surprise that the Misty ‘character’ is, essentially, a distillation of all that made 1970s rock stardom what it was. That Tillman pirouettes and prances like Jagger, and assembled a huge stage band with the same attention to layered detail as Springsteen, feeds that brew. Throw in that voice - oh so similar to Elton John's in his 'classic' period (essentially, from Tumbleweed Connection and Madman Across The Water through to Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy), and the strength of his deeply personal, cynical songwriting and you have a compelling live proposition.

And thus it proved to be. With three albums as Misty behind him, Tillman had 24 songs drawn from all three, opening up with the first four tracks in sequence from this year's brilliant Pure Comedy. Despite its title, it's an album of serious topics and thinking, taking broad, sweeping shots at the state of the world, from politics and religion to celebrity culture, subjects that Tillman has found outlets to comment on elsewhere, but in his stage delivery, actually fuel the intensity of it. Opening with Pure Comedy, and just Tillman and a piano, the song builds to the full might of what he, essentially, has on stage with him, a small orchestra, to play through Total Entertainment Forever, Things It Would Have Been Helpful To Know Before The Revolution and Ballad Of The Dying Man.

If his song titles are long, there is a paradox to it, since Tillman doesn't engage in a great deal of audience badinage (save for a few sharp retorts to noisy dickheads clearly experiencing alcohol for the first time, and one over-enthusiastic stage crasher removed by security - "I didn't know folk-rock could get you wild"). But that doesn't diminish his stage presence, with even the stage layout designed to create a wide aisle down which Misty could leap and twist and stretch when not at the microphone, like some crazed evangelical preacher (Tillman was raised in a strong, Pentecostal family on the outskirts of Washington DC), even falling his knees, James Brown-style, a couple of times. Together with a lot of strong backlighting and dry ice, very often Misty himself was, well, misty - obscured in silhouette. This may not have gone down well with the adoring female contingent in the audience, not that he would probably care that much, since the cult of celebrity is one of Tillman's many targets for barbs (along with music bloggers, so I'd better be careful...).

© Simon Poulter 2017

For all of Tillman's individual theatrics, this was a show somewhat devoid of it. A confetti burst after just the third song seemed oddly out of place - a finale stunt at best - and Tillman made a joke of it, though one would have thought that pyrotechnics would have been worked out at the time the stage show was being conceived. It was either an odd stunt, or an odd idea of when to bring levity to the show. On this basis, and Tillman's lyrics not withstanding, you could conclude that this was a excursion into muso humour. And while the show was [thankfully] light on rock and roll stuntery (save for Tillman tossing his guitar, somewhat riskily, to his guitar tech during a lively version of Nothing Good Ever Happens At The Goddamn Thirsty Crow) you couldn't help walking out having felt that you'd witnessed - or even experienced - a true spectacle. The Elton John/folk/rock/country reference points may provide a central guideline to what you expect from Father John Misty, but there is plenty of space for other things between the cracks and around the edges, such as the shuddering, pounding electronica-infused True Affection, as well as the singalong pop of I Love You, Honeybear, title track of Tillman's second Misty album.

From start to finish, via the ebb and flow of confessional lyric and solid country rock, this was a knowing presentation of an artist confident in his skin and confident of his own capabilities. Throughout, his voice remained magnificent, one of delightful purity. The former R. Dwight of Pinner might be one point of reference, but the tones of Jackson Browne or Niels Lofgren also come to mind.

As he reached the finale, with The Ideal Husband, it was impossible not to think that Tillman/Misty is well on his way to join the ranks of the other famed alumni of the Hammersmith 'Your Sponsor's Name Here' Odeon. If I had one reservation, it's that Tillman can come across as being somewhat aloof. But, then, isn't that how a proper rock star should be?