I Love You, Honeybear, despite the occasional double entendre, is as powerful a statement about love in the vacuous, social media-obsessed early 21st century as it is a denouement of the detached hipster charlatan.
Perhaps it’s Father John Misty as an antidote to the American dream that makes ‘I Love You, Honeybear’ such a compelling and addictive listen. That underneath this beautiful sounding record things are pointed toward a seedier truth.
For all the layers of irony on I Love You, Honeybear, the biggest irony of all might be that such an ostensibly knotty and confusing album’s real strength lies in something as prosaic and transparent as its author’s ability to write a beautiful melody.
He's equally talented at writing heartfelt acoustic guitar riffs or quiet piano tunes, adding the ideal dose of strings and lush backing vocals.
A messy, extravagant, astonishing, beguiling and honest experience: that’s love, and that’s also what I Love You, Honeybear is. Just magnificent.
Over its 45 beautiful but tortured minutes, I Love You, Honeybear weaves a complicated narrative of love gained at the expense of the individual.
Fortunately, the masterful I Love You, Honeybear proves that Misty the character doesn’t overpower Tillman the musician.
I Love You, Honeybear pinwheels between an honest, bruised tenderness and worldweary cynicism, but never in that yawnsomely earnest way you all too often find when singer-songwriters use their material to present and fillet their own relationships.
I Love You, Honeybear, is littered with carefully wired bombs meant to blow up in the face of those seeking straightforward love songs.
Tillman becomes one of the great diarists of our generation in Honeybear, possessing a keen, merciless intelligence within a sophisticated melodic sensibility.
It’s the sort of album that even repeated listenings can throw up a myriad of surprises: you never really get to know who the character of Father John Misty is ... but it’s clear that Josh Tillman has slowly turned into one of the most talented songwriters of our age.
An intimately close-to-the-bone emotional exploration that not only fulfills his potential that was glimpsed three years ago, but trumps the folk masterpieces of his old outfit through sheer conviction.
From the soulful gospel of “When You’re Smiling and Astride Me” to the cherubic synth-pop of “True Affection,” this kaleidoscope of a release is brimming with ideas both batty and inspired.
Fans of the Beatles and Sufjan Stevens will find that songs from Honeybear sit comfortably in their Spotify "Mountain Drive" playlists; fans of stand-up comedy will find the album as thorough, sad and bitterly cathartic as any good hour-long special.
Anyone who values the ability of folk artists to pull back the curtain on the human spirit will appreciate the genius of this album. It’s a record that needs to be listened to rather than heard.
He says “My ambition… was to address the sensuality of fear, the terrifying force of love, the unutterable pleasures of intimacy, and the destruction of emotional and intellectual prisons in my own voice.” And he does so, with some intelligent and honest song writing and passion in his voice.
Honeybear thrives on the knife’s edge of that enigmatic split personality, as he attempts to reconcile the love-swept optimist with the world-weary wise-ass.
Honeybear is rich with sarcasm, flagrant in some places and barely discernable in others. It is impossible to take seriously, but too damn compelling to be dismissed.
Fans of sensitive woodburning-stove indie may be surprised to hear the one-time Fleet Foxes drummer skewering shortcomings close to home.
I Love You, Honeybear, finds the character going through every cycle of life, from lust to love to fear to hopelessness to depression to loneliness, only interrupted by the occasional bout of happiness.
Upping the spectacle from Fear Fun, his 2012 debut, I Love You, Honeybear is an autobiographical set about love, marriage and derangement that's both ironic and empathic.
In some ways it may have too many ideas, just falling short of Grant's 'Pale Green Ghosts' ... But '...Honeybear' is easily a masterpiece and already one of the best albums of 2015.
Lyrically, Tillman has a penchant for enjambment that leaves punchlines and revelations momentarily suspended, so songs unfold with continual surprises.
From such banal beginnings a new life – and a truly compelling new album – have bloomed.
This is a more than worthy follow up to 2012’s ‘Fear Fun’, and while I’ve been well looked after at the Tillman Motel, it took me a while to get used to the furniture.
J. Tillman, aka Father John Misty, comes through with a grand, funny, and gorgeous sophomore release under this recently embraced pseudonym of his.
I Love You, Honeybear is a big, ambitious statement that few artists can pull off for a sophomore follow-up to a beloved debut. But unlike Fear Fun, it does ask the listener to meet the artist at least halfway.
Arch, often meandering and stilted, I Love You, Honeybear is hard to warm to. Go for Fleet Foxes, Grant or Wilson instead.
#1 | / | Drowned in Sound |
#1 | / | Loud and Quiet |
#1 | / | musicOMH |
#1 | / | Paste |
#1 | / | Time Out New York |
#1 | / | Under the Radar |
#2 | / | Rough Trade |
#3 | / | CraveOnline |
#3 | / | Gigwise |
#3 | / | Magnet |