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Father Jon Misty Embraces The L Word A musician quitting one of indie music’s biggest bands at their peak seemed like a weird move at the time, but for former Fleet Foxes drummer Josh Tillman, it seems to have paid off. Tillman recorded a slew of albums throughout his 20s, and as a way of taking himself less seriously, he created the Father John Misty character, a kind of druggy drifter-type. But while his 2012 debut, Fear Fun, in large part poked fun at his newfound L.A. lifestyle, his new album, I Love You, Honey Bear, tackles something else entirely. What makes Father John Misty unique is that it’s impossible to remove the man from the songs, since he draws so heavily from his personality (which is ironic considering the pseudonym). Each song plays like an esoteric inside joke that’s ripped directly from the headlines of his own life, with titles like “The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apartment” and “Nothing Good Ever Happens at the Goddamn Thirsty Crow” from Honey Bear. If you’ve read interviews with Father John Misty, it’s hard not to notice a bit of grandiosity. He tends to mythologize his past. On the new album, he rips into a white girl for an annoying “soulful affectation” in her singing voice, but what’s that we hear in the verses of “Thirsty Crow”? And get a load of his album preview: “My ambition, aside from making an indulgent, soulful and epic sound worthy of the subject matter, was to address the sensuality of fear, the terrifying force of love, the unutterable pleasures of true intimacy, and the destruction of emotional and intellectual prisons in my own voice.” But if you can get past the fact that this reads like some kind of cultural theory masters thesis, Honey Bear is an album of great ambition. In it, Tillman has done something that some songwriters strive for their entire lives: He’s written about falling in love in ways that are true to himself and never for a moment clichéd … kind of like he said he would. “Chateau Lobby 4 (in C for Two Virgins)” shows how a simple connection can have profound results: “I haven’t hated / all the same things as somebody else / since I can remember.” In “The Ideal Husband,” Misty describes the moment he falls recklessly into the abyss, and the kind of rash thinking that it usually leads to: “I showed up at seven in the morning / I said baby, I’m finally succumbing / Said something dumb like I’m tired of running / Wouldn’t I make the ideal husband?” “I Went to the Store One Day” is a folky rumination about the chance meeting that can set the blueprint for your entire existence. He imagines the rest of his life with the girl he just met at the store, all the way until he’s on his deathbed, and perfectly illustrates how your mind can’t help but scramble toward the future when you’re with someone you love. But it’s not all about the lovey-dovey; “Bored in the USA” is a mournful balled lamenting the lack of feeling in our consumer culture and “True Affection” is about the difficulty to connect through so many different layers of technology. The album also made musical strides. While his first release was straight-ahead Beatles-style pop, this one proves he’s really emptying the coffers at Sub Pop with great results. It’s chock full of beautiful orchestral flourishes that add a whole new dimension. And just as with the subject matter, it seems that he’s embracing the sappier side of things. Criticizing consumer America or questioning our reliance on technology has been done many times, but finding an original way to say how you feel about a significant other is a creative achievement. Despite his pretentions, Father John Misty has really accomplished something great with I Love You, Honeybear. Album of the Week: Dead Cats Dead Rats’ Raw Lately I’ve been hearing people talk about how much they miss the ’90s. Yeah — the decade was cool. Flannel, acid wash jeans, weird hair cuts, Surge (thank god it’s back) and Nintendo 64 were in style, and Seattle was the mecca of music for most of those years. There was also Milli Vanilli and a plethora of horribly catchy “boy bands” that really ended the ’90s on a downer. While I don’t like to romanticize the past, a spectacular punk trio from Boston that has a sound similar to Nirvana, Mudhoney and Bad Religion has a new album out and it definitely harks back to the music of 20 years ago. That band is Dead Cats Dead Rats and their new album, Raw, is one of the most badass albums to come out in 2014. Relating to previous material I’ve heard from them, DCDR’s new release is loud with an abrasive angst. If you’re having a stressful day, crank this baby up, let it rip and rock the fuck out. Frontman Matt Reppucci has scorching riffs on guitar to go along with bassist Chris Wolz and drummer Travis Tenney crafting an electrifying rhythm section that is a musical force to be reckoned with. Press play on this bad boy and I guarantee you won’t stop listening. People these days sometimes just have to chill out, stop and smell the roses. Life’s too short not to do it. While partaking in said activity, make time to bask in the top tracks of my Album Of The Week. Just relax and indulge. A complete headbanger, “Warm Up” is my favorite track off of Raw. So much emphasis on rhythm and power really makes for a complete ripper of a song. With a particular jumpy blues quality, “Knockout” has Wolz’s bass serving as the backbone for the entire track. A great amount of intensity with this one gives it a classic structure and a lot of energy. For a sick riff, I suggest giving “Big Trouble” a listen. Reppucci’s guitar is a total beast, exuding ferocious sounds and highly amplified tones. Dead Cats Dead Rats will be heading down to Dusk in Providence on December 11 to tear it up with local punks Ask The Dead, Public Policy and Pink Eye. If you like it loud, then I absolutely recommend you hit up the show. While you’re there, pick up a copy of Raw. It’s brain melting goodness that’ll ooze into your soul. Dead Cats Dead Rats’ Website: dcdrband.com CD Review: Bryan Ferry’s Avonmore Last Monday, former Roxy Music frontman Bryan Ferry released his 15th studio album, Avonmore. The album was produced by longtime Roxy Music/Ferry associate, Rhett Davies, but he also got some help from a long list of talented musicians, most notably Nile Rodgers of Chic (and everything lately) and Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Nile Rodgers makes his influence known not only by his signature funky, choppy guitar sound that is featured in most of the songs, but an overall sleek tone to the songs and the production. The title track has a driving disco backbeat with impressive bass fills sprinkled throughout that can only be Flea. But occasionally the lushness goes a little too far. “A Special Kind of Guy,” for example, takes the smoothness to a sickly sweet parody level, complete with some tepid wah-wah guitar in the background. Perhaps the overproduction is due to an overblown cast of characters; on “Loop De Li” alone there appears Nile Rodgers, Johnny Marr, well-known blues guitarist Neil Hubbard, Sex Pistols axeman Steve Jones, session guitarist David Williams, and jazz legend Marcus Miller on bass, and that’s not even everybody playing a guitar. Ferry’s status as a UK national treasure is definitely secure, but it seems like he may be a little too focused on partying with rockstars. One of the elements (other than the top-tier musicians) that made Roxy Music so special in the ’70s was Ferry’s somehow-masculine cooing vocal technique. It’s undeniable that age isn’t the best thing for your vocals; unless you’re some kind of immortal weirdo like James Taylor, you probably won’t be hitting the high notes you did in your 20s when you’re 69 (Ferry’s age). But in some ways, like in the case of Johnny Cash at the end of his life, the discernable age in a singer’s voice actually works to enhance what made it so special decades ago. He uses his signature vocal vibrato effectively in the title track and “Driving me Wild,” but it’s never more prevalent than it is on the song “Soldier of Fortune,” the strongest original on the album. Ferry’s personal life seems to come through on the album, especially in this track. Earlier this year, Ferry was divorced by his 30-year-old wife of about two and a half years (“I’m a soldier of fortune, ambassador of pain / I had the world on a string and I threw it all away”). Ferry, with his English mansion, hasn’t exactly seen the dark underbelly of life, but his weathered voice gives the song an undeniable gravity. Ferry’s never been afraid of cover songs, and Avonmore closes with a pair of the most eclectic and best covers of his career. The first is “Send in the Clowns” by Stephen Sondheim, originally part of the musical A Little Night Music.

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