THE BEST RECORD OF THE YEAR : Number 7

Nine years after I Love You, Honeybear catapulted Father John Misty into the spotlight, Josh Tillman returns with Mahashmashana, an album as sprawling and ambitious as its title suggests. Known for his sardonic take on love, existence, and the absurdity of modern life, Tillman’s latest work trades much of his signature wit for a more contemplative and serious tone. While Mahashmashana offers lush arrangements and sweeping orchestration, it leaves some long-time fans yearning for the biting humor and clever lyricism that once defined him.

The album’s title track, an opulent nine-minute epic, serves as the centerpiece. Drawing comparisons to the glam rock grandeur of T. Rex’s Ballrooms of Mars, the song’s slow build and orchestral swells create a sense of cosmic scale. It’s a striking composition, filled with lyrical gems like, “A perfect lie can live forever, the truth don’t fare as well.” Moments like these remind listeners of Tillman’s capacity for poetic introspection, even if the track leans more towards the somber than the sardonic.

Other highlights include Mental Health, where cascading piano and jazzy woodwinds evoke a luxurious lounge atmosphere reminiscent of Arctic Monkeys’ more recent work. She Cleans Up emerges as an unexpected feminist anthem, brimming with raw 60s rocker energy, while Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose oscillates between Lou Reed-inspired storytelling and Bond-esque cinematic flair. Yet, it’s the disco-infused I Guess Time Makes Fools of Us All that delivers the most memorable punch. The track’s swagger, coupled with an electrifying sax solo, injects a much-needed dose of levity and groove.

Despite these standout moments, Mahashmashana can feel weighed down by its own seriousness. Returning to earlier albums like Honeybear or Pure Comedy reveals just how much sharper and more playful Tillman’s songwriting once was. Tracks like Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose attempt to recapture the spirit of past hits like The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt., but instead of a sly wink, it feels like a long, drawn-out sigh. The absence of gallows humor leaves certain songs feeling heavy-handed and overly self-reflective.

That said, there’s undeniable artistry in the album’s production and arrangements. The orchestral swells, unpredictable percussion, and rich instrumentation showcase a musician still at the top of his game – even if the lyrical content sometimes feels elusive or meandering.

Ultimately, Mahashmashana is a complex and divisive entry into Father John Misty’s catalog. For listeners willing to embrace the album’s grandeur and philosophical musings, there’s much to admire. Yet for those longing for the caustic, charismatic Tillman of old, Mahashmashana may feel like an ambitious but incomplete offering – a reflection on mortality and time that occasionally forgets to laugh at itself.