Story/BROOKE SEGARRA
Photos/MAEGHAN DONOHUE
âTheyâ say that, historically, poetry and invention come in times of peace and prosperity, because when members of a society are focused on survival there is little time for poetry and invention. We live in a moment where many artists (not all, of course) are focusing on art that promotes self-care, inner-reflection, healing, and empowerment so many of us can make it, mentally, through another day. Father John Mistyâs Pure Comedy is not one of those records. Itâs concerned very little with the culture of mental-wellness and self-worth, as it describes the lunacy of, not just the times weâre living in, but the muck weâve been in for centuries as a species embracing our human nature to its fullest. Itâs heavy stuff, and if you want to really know what Pure Comedy is all about you can read âHereâs Father John Mistyâs Incredibly Long, Incredibly Awesome Explanation of What His New Album Is About.â Itâs a brilliant meditation on our human condition and a playful deconstruction of many of our modern ideologies, but who shows up to listen to âAnother white guy in 2017/ Who takes himself so goddamn seriously?â Well, myself, and quite a few people who live conveniently enough to order a pizza to arrive at their apartment at the approximate time theyâll be home from the show.
If you want to see anything but the best of people, go to an oversold show. Itâs difficult to describe the spot I was standing in for most of the performance, but letâs just say that I was directly between an exit and the photo pit entrance, against a wall, and behind a mob of people trying to squeeze their way into the show because they paid for a ticket. Father John Misty opened with the title track and opening song on the album, âPure Comedyâ and while Tillman prudently sang, âComedy, now thatâs what I call pure comedyâ and the clearly uniformed security guard directed people to make an exit path from the photo pit, there were shouts of âDo you work here?â and âWhat the f— do you think this is, bro?â In the moment, it was a horrific spectacle, in hindsight, it could be the most low budget and illustrative music video for the underlying point of any song on the record.
Father John Misty brought his greatly anticipated antics, demonstrative expressions, a thought out setlist, the stamina to play a two hour set, and  under the deep purple stage lights âTrue Affectionâ flourished into the devil-may-care discotheque of any Father John Misty devoteeâs dreams. He didnât say much outside of song. Tillman allowed all of his carefully penned poetry to speak its universal themes, and it was the pep rally jeers after Misty bellowed âOh, they gave me a useless education/ And a subprime loan/ On a craftsman home/ Keep my prescriptions filled/ And now I can’t get offâ that confirmed for me who paid forty-five dollars a ticket (before fees) to hear those themes. I was looking for community, but got a couple absent-mindedly bumping into me all through âHoly Shit.â
The scene where Zooey Deschanelâs character in Almost Famous, leaves home and gives her Bob Dylan, Joni Mitchell, and Jimi Hendrix records to her little bro has always stuck with me. Pure Comedy would be in the stack of records (playlist) Iâd hand my teen cousin today with the directions: Donât scroll through Facebook, donât  text, donât even flip through a magazine, because if you do, youâll miss something. Just sit with yourself on the floor of your dorm, apartment, or parentâs home with engulfing headphones and listen. Itâs the best way to listen to Father John Misty. No distractions. No outside influence.
Again, an oversold show, like an airport terminal, will not bring out the best in people.
