Fleet Foxes may have a firm grasp on rock and folk history, but they never play to their record collection. Rather than revive a particular scene or recreate a lost sound, the Seattle quintet cherrypick their ideas from a broad spectrum of styles, pulling in Appalachian folk, classic rock, AM country, and SoCal pop to create a personal synthesis of the music of their peers, their parents, and even their grandparents.
The band didn’t leave town to record Fleet Foxes, yet it sounds like it could have been recorded anywhere in the United States—Austin, Minneapolis, Chicago, Brooklyn, Louisville, or more likely some clearing in the woods. That placelessness constitutes an active effacement, considering that Seattle has been a locus for alternative music for nearly two decades. The five-piece is thoroughly embedded in that scene: Their ranks include current and former members of Crystal Skulls, Pedro the Lion, and Seldom. Furthermore, to produce the sessions that created the Sun Giant EP and this debut LP, they hired Phil Ek, best known for his work with Modest Mouse, Built to Spill, and the Shins. Nevertheless, theirs is a studiously rural aesthetic, eschewing urban influences and using reverb like sepia-tone to suggest something much older and more rustic than it really is. The album opens with a short tune (titled “Red Squirrel” on early leaks but not listed on the CD) that could be a field recording sung by a small-town congregation 50 years ago. It ushers us into Fleet Foxes’ old world; after a few bars, the song darts into the heraldic “Sun It Rises,” which sure enough sounds like someone’s idea of a sunrise over an evergreen mountain. But they’re not done yet: Just as the song fades, it rises into a quiet coda that previews two more elements of their sound—the patient guitar lick on “Blue Ridge Mountains” and the vocal harmonies that color numerous songs on the record. All that’s missing are the crackles and hisses of an old LP. (Fortunately, Sub Pop is issuing it on vinyl.)
What follows is surprisingly full and wide ranging, almost as much as the Bruegel painting that graces the album’s cover. Skye Skjelset’s guitar roams wherever it pleases, while drummer Nicholas Peterson keeps the songs in check, allowing the band to move freely but not wander too far into the woods. A flute, half-submerged in the mix, adds lurking menace to the album’s most intense jam, “Your Protector,” and Casey Wescott’s staccato piano rhythm runs through “Blue Ridge Mountains,” heightening the momentum of the chorus.
