Father John Misty doesn’t do things by accident. When he stepped out onto the O2 Apollo stage in Manchester last night, it wasn’t lost on returning fans that the perfect, pleated curtain from his last tour was gone — swapped for something ripped and a bit rough around the edges. He opened with I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All, a track built around the idea that everything fades, everything frays. Message received.
It’s no overstatement to say that Josh Tillman, under his Father John Misty alias, is one of the most important singer-songwriters of his generation. Across six albums, he’s carved out a space that’s equal parts ironic and sincere, theatrical and raw. His fan base is devoted and switched on, packing out rooms like the Apollo with the kind of reverence usually reserved for cult figures or old masters. There’s a sense with Misty that you’re watching someone who’ll be written about for decades to come — someone who turns personal chaos into something close to brilliance.
This is the first run of UK shows in support of his latest album, and while he didn’t overload the setlist with new material, what we got made an impact. Live, the songs feel different — heavier, sharper, louder. Where the album leans into soft edges and lush arrangements, the live versions bite a bit more. The bass is thicker, the delivery more direct. There’s less polish and more punch, and it suits him.
The setlist was a mixed bag from across his career, with newer tracks like Josh Tillman and the Accidental Dose, She Cleans Up, and Screamland sitting confidently alongside fan favourites. Mr. Tillman and The Night Josh Tillman Came to Our Apt. brought an early lift, while Nancy From Now On and God’s Favorite Customer reminded us why he’s still one of the most distinctive voices in indie. The mood shifted beautifully between intimacy and swagger, and Mental Health and Mahashmashana added a welcome sense of depth.
He didn’t say much between songs, but when he did, it landed. Before Being You, he asked, “Where are the weirdos?” and then told us to dissociate for a bit, pointing out we were all packed in with thousands of strangers. It was funny, oddly comforting, and felt exactly on-brand for a crowd who probably already spend most gigs doing exactly that.
And if you were lucky enough to catch his surprise set earlier that day at Liverpool’s Jacaranda, you saw a very different Misty. That show skipped the new material entirely — maybe by design, maybe to keep the focus here in Manchester where the big stage could carry the weight.
Visually, he’s back to full shaggy-haired glory — and honestly, it’s a great look. He moves like he owns the stage, without ever needing to demand attention. The voice, as ever, is solid gold. Whether he’s crooning or cutting loose, he’s totally in control.
The encore was just as strong, finishing with So I’m Growing Old on Magic Mountain, Chateau Lobby #4 (in C for Two Virgins), Holy Shit, and the ever-glorious I Love You, Honeybear. No big finale, no fireworks — just a steady landing after 90+ minutes that rarely dipped.
This wasn’t the most theatrical Misty show we’ve seen, but it didn’t need to be. It had teeth where it needed them, tenderness where it counted, and a crowd totally locked in.
Check out more of our coverage here.
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