Henry Miller Memorial Library Benefit Concert brings Father John Misty to Big Sur.

When Josh Tillman played the inaugural First City Festival at the Monterey County Fairgrounds with his band Father John Misty last month, his stage presence had an audience of several thousand hypnotized. As he unleashed his Jim Morrison-flavored baritone vocals the music roused his soul – visibly – as he slinked and gyrated, exposing glimpses of flesh as his undersized T-shirt rose up his torso with every movement. Next he fell to his knees with a mic stand he caressed like a lover. It was impossible to take your eyes off him.

It’s even more difficult to ignore the all-encompassing narratives that line his accessible brand of Cali folk rock.

“I ran down the road, pants down to my knees/ Screaming ‘please come help me, that Canadian shaman gave a little too much to me!’” he sings on “I’m Writing a Novel,” off his brilliant 2012 Father John Misty debut Fear Fun.

Tillman spent five years as the drummer for Fleet Foxes before breaking away to pursue a solo career he had already delved into under the name J. Tillman.

“It wasn’t like Fleet Foxes was like this thorn in my paw that had to be extracted before I could be liberated,” he says. “Not being in Fleet Foxes certainly gave me a lot more time. Being in a band as popular as that doesn’t leave a lot of time for much else.”

Following Fleet Foxes Tillman abandoned recording under the J. Tillman moniker and went in a completely different lyrical direction.

“There’s sort of a B.C. and A.D. with me lyrically,” he explains. “My lyricism in the J. Tillman era was a lot more impressionistic and imaginative. I developed my own fantasy world and there was a lexicon that went along with that that I cultivated over 10 years or so. I had an initial decision that was like, ‘I don’t want to write like this anymore; I’m tired of kicking this dead horse.’ Then I had an existential break where I was like, ‘If I don’t do this, what the hell am I?’ I thought if I’m not this songwriter I’m just shit on a shoe. That was equal parts thrilling and depressing to stare in the face.”

It was during this time that Tillman moved to Los Angeles, on a lark, and had a creative epiphany: He’s never implemented the personal narrative tone he’s been using his entire life, conversationally, along with his sense of humor, into his songwriting.

“Like a lot of young people you assume what comes naturally to you just isn’t any good,” he says. “I had the realization that there was room in my creative life for my natural conversational voice. Southern California was the first environment where I flexed that muscle, and that was by circumstance. I could’ve moved anywhere else.”

Tillman’s creative conversion to narrative songwriting form may have a little something to do with the bond he’s formed with the Henry Miller Library, which began during his days with Fleet Foxes. Even if it doesn’t, he’s still the ideal performer for the Library’s 10th Benefit Concert, happening tonight.

“The philosophy of the library I just love,” he says. “I love that it’s sort of this really elegant joke: People come and expect to find this historic museum or something, and it has this stately name, and it’s funny to see people walk in and read a couple posters on the wall or something and then look around confused. There’s supposed to be nothing there, and I’ve spent a lot of time doing nothing at that place, and in that way I’ll always be a champion of places dedicated to nothing.”

One of Tillman’s J. Tillman records is even called Cancer and Delirium, a line taken directly from Miller’s Tropic of Cancer.

“I think [Miller] makes more sense to me now than he did when I was 25,” he says. “Henry Miller was not a proponent of the sexual revolution but there’s all this prostitution in Tropic of Cancer. He was a real existential and that’s why he didn’t work in America. They loved him in Paris because he was like, ‘There are no rules; there is no dogma schematic you can just plug yourself into.’ That’s what everybody wanted in America and still does. The ‘label’ thing. Henry Miller was this true free thinker and in that way, he’s very inspiring to me.”

Tillman has spent the past week, leading up to the benefit, staying in a cabin in an undisclosed Big Sur locale. He’s without any company, embracing the solitude of the wild coast’s infinite expanse and not adhering to anything remotely resembling any kind of schedule. His only daily routine: “Doing absolutely nothing.” And letting his beard grow.

Sometime in late 2014, Tillman will release Father John Misty’s sophomore record I Love You, Honey Bear, which will continue where Fear Funleaves off – though Tillman says it’s much more intense – with vivid imagery and amusing narratives. One of the record’s new tunes, “Honey Bear,” kicks off with a resonant – and risqué – burst that Miller would definitely approve of: “Mascara, blood, ash and cum on the Rorschach sheets.”

HENRY MILLER MEMORIAL LIBRARY BENEFIT CONCERT: FATHER JOHN MISTY with ANNE WALDMAN, AMBROSE BYE and SARA GOODMAN happens at 7:30pm Thursday, Sept. 19, at Henry Miller Library, a quarter mile south of Nepenthe Restaurant on Highway 1, Big Sur. $50; $100 Prime Reserved Seating/Meet & Greet; $350 VIP Table/Meet & Greet. 667-2574.

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