Since Fleet Foxes released their Sun Giant EP in February, word has been steadily building about their eponymous full-length debut, and how it may just be one of this year's best. Indeed, it's been hailed by some weak-kneed jounalists as 'adventurous', 'rapturous' and 'timeless', with one publication even declaring it 'a landmark in American music'. For once, you can believe the hype; Fleet Foxes is undoubtedly a stunning album - even more so, considering it's the young Seattle band's debut.
One of the most striking things about Fleet Foxes is their ability to evoke such vivid mental vistas through their music; over the course of thirty-seven minutes, you'll be transported to a dusty dead-end of the Grand Canyon on a blazing hot day, a tallgrass Kansas prairie as the sun sets over your herd of cattle, and back to suppin' moonshine on a rickety back porch in a Georgia backwater before you know it.
Yet, there's nothing contrived about these psych-tinged country-folk ditties, whatsoever. Frontman Robin Peckold's remarkable voice - at times tremulous, at others pure and potent, but always unique - along with his bandmates' glorious, pinpoint accuracy at harmonising, makes the likes of White Water Hymnal, Quiet Houses and Tiger Mountain Peasant Song genuinely goosebump-raising affairs, while their talent for subtle tempo and melody changes (best heard on the superb Ragged Wood and the wistful rollick of Your Protector) are assurances that this is a band with more than one great album to make.
You'll like Fleet Foxes immediately, but it may take three or four listens to truly get under your skin. After that, you'll wonder how on Earth you've survived without this album in your collection. Magnificent.
