Yahoo! Music Album Review

Released on 09/06/08
Label: Bella Union

Emanating from Seattle, the precociously talented Fleet Foxes look set to put America's former grunge capital back on the musical map, a mere 14 years since Kurt Cobain blew its reputation to kingdom come (as well his own brains) with a 20-gague shotgun. Though the Foxes will sell a fraction of Nirvana's millions, they do share a link of sorts: Neil Young. But, while Cobain's fandom was limited to his brutal suicide note and that quote about burning out being better than fading away, Robin Pecknold and his band mates are fans of Shakey's early '70s hippy period.

Indeed, the years 1968-73 is all over this record and, as well as Young, the influences of David Crosby, Brian Wilson and Judee Sill pervade. However, the Foxes - and this is their genius - take such antiquated well-worn rope and braid it into something vital and new. Ironically, though defined sartorially and sonically by this short window in history, the songs on their debut album are mostly timeless. Few better will be released in 2008.

First track "Sun It Rises" actually opens like some lo-fi field recording, before breaking into a circular acoustic riff that melds into reverb-drenched harmonies and an uplifting salvo of electric guitar. It's followed by the set's most immediate song, "White Winter Hymnal", which floats on nursery rhyme Flaming Lips territory and culminates in a folkish wall of sound. If Phil Spector produced Pentangle, this could have been the result.

Again, idyllic lyrical images of "pack horses", "snow" and "strawberries in summertime" abound. "Ragged Wood" then goes and makes it a triple whammy, sounding more like My Morning Jacket than My Morning Jacket have in years. The lines about "turning myself to a demon" in "Tiger Mountain Peasant Song" (and that title) and an ode to meadowlarks ("Meadowlarks") may dissuade both Q readers and Shellac fans, but the remainder of the album is executed with similarly beautiful solemnity.

"Heard Them Stirring" is a kissing cousin of Bon Iver's isolated wonderment, but with added "Smile"-esque flourishes. "Your Protector" delivers an enormous chorus, and "He Doesn't Know Why" spirals heavenly with every unexpected melodious turn. Mercifully, and unlike some of their historic predecessors, who equated the concept of a good time with 28-minute jams at the Fillmore, brevity is another Fleet Foxes asset.

There's nothing here in the way of instrumental noodling, and collective egos are set aside - as they should be - in support of the song. Nowhere is this more apparent than the closing "Oliver James", another spiritual set-piece delivered around a moon-lit campfire. Quiet and inspiring, it makes you want to burn a Wicker Man in reverential awe.

    by Adam Webb