Father John Misty - Chloe And The Next 20th Century (2LP)

Chloë and the Next 20th Century lands like a sepia film reel flickering to life, Father John Misty trading the Laurel Canyon jangle for a lush, old Hollywood palette. Released April 8, 2022 on Sub Pop in North America and Bella Union in Europe, it finds Josh Tillman and longtime producer Jonathan Wilson leaning into strings, woodwinds, and sly percussion with arranger and conductor Drew Erickson shaping the orchestral sweep. It is a stylistic left turn that still feels distinctly Misty. The barbs are sharper in silk, but they are still barbs.

Right away, “Chloë” sets the tone. There is a sly nightclub strut to it, a horn section wandering in like it owns the place, and Tillman slipping into character with the ease of a film actor who knows where the camera sits. He has always been a keen observer. Here he swaps the cosmic essays of Pure Comedy for mid-century vignettes full of social climbers, publicists, and end-of-the-night regulars. “Q4” might be the clearest example. It skewers the publishing world with references to galleys, foreign rights, and BookScan charts, all dressed up in a glitzy arrangement that could fool you into thinking it is a rom-com theme. It is satire you can dance to.

“Goodbye Mr. Blue” is the one that lodges in your chest. Critics kept hearing Harry Nilsson’s “Everybody’s Talkin’” in its lilting fingerpicking, and the comparison isn’t lazy. The phrasing and breezy melancholy feel like a postcard from a lost radio era, but the emotional core is pure Tillman. He sings to a dying cat and, by proxy, a dying relationship, and he never needs to push. The whole thing breathes. Then there is “Funny Girl,” all delicate strings and moonlit swoon, the melody climbing like a vintage MGM love theme. When the percussion finally brushes in, it feels like a dress swish on a ballroom floor.

A big part of why this world feels so complete is Erickson’s orchestration. The strings never smother, the reeds slip in with a wink, and the whole band knows when to leave space. That care lets the album make bold moves without feeling fussy. The closer, “The Next 20th Century,” is the best example. For most of its length, it moves like a dimly lit standard, then it tilts into scorched-earth guitar noise and cinematic chaos, like a reel melting in the projector. The contrast works because the groundwork is so elegantly laid.

As a writer, Tillman has always been funny in a way that stings a little. Here he is also disarmingly tender. “Buddy’s Rendezvous” paints a lounge full of ghosts and bad choices, and it resonated enough that Lana Del Rey recorded her own version, released alongside the album and included on a special 7-inch in the deluxe box. It was a neat meeting of sensibilities. Her take underscores how strong the songcraft is when you strip away the arrangement. You could hand half these tunes to a standards singer and they would still fly.

The record landed well with the critics too. Pitchfork tagged it Best New Music, and other outlets followed with strong notices, noting the audacity of the stylistic pivot and how assured the writing remains. It is easy to see why. The album feels like a fully built suite rather than a concept stitched together. It works on a late-night drive and it works early on a Sunday while the kettle rattles.

If you are crate digging, Chloë and the Next 20th Century vinyl is a treat. The packaging suits the music’s filmic vibe, and the pressing gives the strings and woodwinds room to bloom. If you already collect Father John Misty vinyl, this sits comfortably next to I Love You, Honeybear and Pure Comedy while showing a different stripe. Hunting around a Melbourne record store, I have seen copies tucked right next to crooner classics, which feels right. And if you need to buy Father John Misty records online, it is easy to find a few variants through the usual suspects, especially if you search Father John Misty albums on vinyl. I have even spotted it while browsing vinyl records Australia listings, wedged between Frank Sinatra reissues and a stray Serge Gainsbourg.

The real test for records like this is staying power. These songs keep giving. The arrangements catch your ear first, but the lines start to glow after a few plays, and the world he sketches pulls you back in. It is showbiz and smoke rings, but the heart is beating under the satin. That is the trick, and Tillman pulls it off with style.