On October 1, 2025, I journeyed to Val Air Ballroom in Des Moines to see a performance from Father John Misty, and left with a disappointment most bitter and foul. Despite my highest hopes and expectations for this character of a musician, Father John Misty failed to deliver any long-winded canting cadenced self-referential rant-shackled monologue that evening. So unfortunately it was not one of his best performances.
And yet in spite of that wretched loss and sorrow, it was still a damn good show.
Cut Worms
The Ohio-turned-Brooklyn soft rock act Cut Worms had been touring with Father John Misty for the past several weeks, and Des Moines was their second to last show together. I can at best describe Cut Worms as: nice. If you took a dude from Ohio with shaggy hair and threw him into Pueblo, AZ for like 2 years, then chucked him into Brooklyn for another 15, that’s the kind of music Cut Worms makes. It was nice, it sure was soft indie rock! If you could be so bold as to imagine a group of five dudes in t-shirts and jeans, every one of them possessing locks of hair within that so gentle manipulative chin-to-shoulder length range. I think the moment the first strand of hair grows just slightly past the clavicle, there would be in-fighting and perhaps a coup d’état,. I got the chance to talk with a couple of them at their merch table at the show. I asked why they chose to play a cover of The Velvet Underground’s There She Goes Again, the front-man’s words being that “it’s a good song and we like it.” Fair point lad, cheers. One could argue they were too lost in Val Air sponsored beers for an effective interview by that point. I also had nothing more interesting to ask–my bad!
After stepping outside between sets for a doodle break, I reentered Val Air to find a brand new crowd. Even compared to when the Violent Femmes played there, it was the most packed I had ever seen the venue. Only the greatest inhabitants of Iowa showed up for this event: dudes hauling their man bun burdens, antichrists, eunuch sluts, vegans, low-risk anarchists, and maxi-skirt participants all pooled within that hall to celebrate being an individualistic asshole, together!
Father John Misty
This tour follows the release of FJM’s most recent album, the title is sourced from the Sanskrit word Mahāśmaśāna (महाश्मशान) defined as “great cremation ground, all things going thither.” Mahashmashana oozes an Old Hollywood jazz with wild terrors blended into the soft rock. It navigates themes of mental health and death on a jarring rollercoaster of psychedelic jazz, to sweeping strings, to uptempo rock n’ cowbells. It’s genuine and spiritual in a way that (historically) Father John Misty once tended to subvert.
The stage was just as packed as the crowd. Instruments were crammed in together across the stage, two saxophones, a mellotone, four keyboardly contraptions, a full drum kit, at least six or seven guitars, and one flute squished together against the stage borders. Introduced by a Beach Boys song, all eight musicians walked out on stage into their respective places with a casual air. With a distant wave to the crowd from Father John Misty, and barely a glance between each other, the saxophone queued in, blaring.
All jazz, all rhythm, the ensemble left me astounded. From the first crying tones of I Guess Time Just Makes Fools of Us All, the band played smooth with a perfect balance of light and dark tone. I was so distracted by the ensemble it took a few moments to notice Father John Misty was also singing. The group played by jazz rules, solos taking over while FJM moved in an impossibly smooth dance, suave rolling movements so clean that his jacket and microphone cable flicked along like choreography.
They played the eponymous Mr. Tillman, into a slight emotional intermission during Goodbye Mr. Blue. That song is devastating, it’s the one and only song I have completely blocked out from my music streaming. FJM and the band played it with a very sweet gentleness, with a country twang touching the bitter tang of last times that come too soon. I was still recovering between the songs Nancy From Now and Chateau Lobby No. 4. Both are songs that I adore, but neither me nor FJM were terribly invested in the performance of these, though perhaps for separate reasons.
Over the course of the show, there was a noticeable shift in energy between old and new. Songs from Mahashamana were played with a casual liveliness, relaxed but with a jazzy drive powering through it. They had fun, and felt like the loose destructive indie folk people love FJM for, both the band and Tillman playing with vigor and a practiced energy, but almost dragged through the older songs from his discography. I can’t blame him, this show occurred on the tail following 6 full months of touring the same songs from 2012 (setlist.fm reports that he has been counted to play I Love You Honeybear a full 604 God Damned times. It was lovely to hear some of these songs live, Hollywood Forever Cemetery Sings and Chateau being an iconic backdrop for many of us sad pretentious suckers for a decade, but I can completely understand being sick of playing the same shit over and over. In all, the full ensemble did an excellent job performing the Mahashamana songs, still having fun and energy following their six months of tour (the oddball She Cleans Up leaving everyone dancing with a cool bounce). I’m excited to see what FJM releases next in the coming years, if he will continue in this jazzy Hollywood direction, and if he will perhaps someday be released from these Honeybear shackles.
I appreciate your composure, dear reader, and your patience for my hyperbolic (frankly unethical) use of hyphenation thus far. That night, I felt freed to live as the most pretentious version of myself. With one hand holding together a notebook precariously leveraged against my (9-U.S.-Dollar) beer, I notated illegible scribbling across my notebook pages. Swatched in the crushed velvets of a new nicotine addiction, I was comforted by the vague gaze of the security guy distracted packing his cheeks with Zyns, as if he were the world’s largest hamster. Despite the lack of a ranting monologue, the thing I had been most praying for, it was still a wonderful show. I felt cradled in that Val Air Ballroom corner by FJM’s smoky voice and the jazz surrounding me, and flowing throughout the crowd into all of the worst versions of ourselves, both acceptance and pretentiousness was embraced between everyone on the floor. Wherever you fell under that tender narcissistic ego-death misandrist-slash-nihilist umbrella, you were welcome under the ballroom lights in Father John Misty’s cradle that evening.
Father John Misty’s tour has since drawn to a close, but will perform at festivals coming up in the next few months in Arizona, California, Idaho, and is featured on the recently announced Primavera Sound 2026 lineup. More information on upcoming events at Val Air and throughout the DSM/Davenport area can be found from First Fleet Concerts here.
