Chloë and the Next 20th Century

Album review

After flirting with strings and horns over the years, Father John Misty—aka Josh Tillman—has gone all in on his fifth album, Chloë and the Next 20th Century. A collection of wannabe standards, it blows a kiss to Irving Berlin and gives a wink at Cole Porter. You hear it in the Jazz Age giddiness of "Chloë," sung with a sort of "Puttin' On the Ritz" delivery: "Chloë is a borough socialist/ She insists there's not much more to it/ Than drinks with a certain element/ Of downtown art criticism." And it's in "Funny Girl"—with its super playful piano, glistening strings and heartsick trumpet— though the lyrics are completely modern, if a maybe a little stalker-ish: "You knocked me out when you charmed the pants off Letterman/ Oh I wish you'd flash that manic smile in my direction." There are also spare, slow-moving rumba moments like the mysterious "The Next 20th Century"—which crackles to life with wild piano and guitar near the end—and Romantic-with-a-capital-R "Olvidado (Otro Momento)," louche with cocktail-bar piano and a bright horn that stretches out lazily, like a woman so pretty she doesn't even bother to brush her hair anymore. Light and breezy, and loosey-goosey with a bit of banjo, "Only a Fool" could have been a Ziegfeld Follies lark. Highlight "Buddy's Rendezvous" is soaked through with mournful sax and piano; Lana Del Rey has already recorded a cover and, truly, it sounds like nothing so much as an LDR song: hellbent on setting a mood. (The title is, presumably, a reference to Buddy's, a Detroit pizza institution where the city's square slice type was supposedly invented. "I'm at Buddy's Rendezvous/ Telling the losers and old-timers/ How good I did with you," Tillman confesses to a woman whose name's been dragged around.)

Tillman also adopts a shockingly sincere tone on "Kiss Me (I Loved You)," its gentle strings and tinkling piano like from a Woody Allen movie you're not sure you're supposed to enjoy anymore. "The end will not befall us/ The sky will not descend/ Life can be more sweet than bitter/ If you'll only let me in," he tries to convince a reluctant ex. In a brief break from character, Tillman dons his tried-and-true Harry Nilsson drag for "(Everything But) Her Love" and the lightly countrypolitan "Goodbye Mr. Blue." Most intriguing is "Q4," an upbeat, glorious, Kinks-esque chamber pop vessel that's like a perfect novella—one about Simone, a failed writer who finds success when she steals the life story of her dead sister: "How could she compete? (I'm sure she wouldn't mind) … Leigh died so many months ago (could write the story of her life?)/ By now this tragedy's my own." Suddenly, the whole album makes sense as the soundtrack of a movie you really want to watch. © Shelly Ridenour/Qobuz