Father John Misty’s new album: If only the cat had died sooner – Kultur

One might have to imagine parts of Father John Misty’s brain as a cross between Bret Easton Ellis’ emotional center and the x-ray warmth with which Harald Schmidt can skin and fillet his interlocutors – almost painlessly at first. A refrigerated chamber lined with dry ice, with glistening meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, scalpels and one or two filigree choppers.