The Sun Giant EP was enough for me to sit up and pay attention. That’s both a compliment and a critique. “Mykonos” by Fleet Foxes and its world music cousin, “2080” by Yeasayer, were two of the best singles of 2007. Sun Giant’s melodies were sweet and lush and immediate but it got shelved pretty quickly as little more than a pop curiosity. Fleet Foxes’ self-titled debut strikes a different chord entirely making a much more memorable impression.
The Sun Giant EP was the natural progression from the less freak-folk fold of this decade’s indie pop stars like My Morning Jacket and Band of Horses–bands whose dusky country twangs of slight sacrilege made for well-timed indie pop gimmickry. Fleet Foxes–their first full-length released June 3 on Sub Pop–steps out from most of those panderances and nudges indie folk forward, creating forty minutes of meticulously organic harmonies and demonstrating an intimate knowledge of their musical roots.
First of all, “Appalachian” is probably going to be this band’s most-loathed term over the coming years but, well, it’s not such an ill-fitting adjective. Fleet Foxes weave blankets of harmony over all of their tracks and crank up the reverb lending itself to descriptions as “pastoral” and “earthy.” If these kind of abstractions don’t help you get a better sense of the sound, imagine the banjoing boy from Deliverance growing up, making nice with some other local musicians and starting a band. Is that better?
Instead of plucking a few choice recording aesthetics or hatcheting refurbishments of The Byrds or The Flying Burrito Brothers, Fleet Foxes find a subtlety that our most contemporary indie roots artists have ostensibly eclipsed. It is a synthesis of old sounds–or, maybe more appropriately, old-sounding songs–without being heavily indebted to anyone in particular. In a sense, Fleet Foxes is less about resurrection and more about sincerity independent of genre and classification.
“White Winter Hymnal,” the album’s second track, is as close to folk-pop perfection you can get without having to consult Gordon Lightfoot first. The simple, thrice-repeated single verse starts and ends in just two-and-a-half minutes but flows gently upward and crystallizes with crisp, delighted grandeur. It kind of sets the tone for much of the record–Fleet Foxes’ presentation is full of existential fervor and deliberate focus. What results is a sonic landscape difficult to put a critical finger to.
The minimalist vocal introduction to “Blue Ridge Mountains” could sit unflinchingly in a sequence of Grizzly Bear tracks. “He Doesn’t Know Why” demonstrates one of Fleet Foxes’ most acute powers–their mastery of control. Similar to “White Winter Hymnal,” Fleet Foxes gently and almost undetectably are able to change pace mid-song, progressing or restraining, all the while discreetly wrapping the emotional impact of the music around the listener. It’s a highly underrated skill but one which will continue to validate Fleet Foxes as folk/roots-pop innovators as long as they are able to pull it off.
