Fleet Foxes by Fleet Foxes
Listening to Fleet Foxes half-heartedly from the car radio in in 2008, I didn't find any reason to like it. In the company of Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago, Fleet Foxes did not strike me as new or interesting. But much like its cover art, the album requires closer attention. (Seriously, just look at the cover art closely. There are some crazy things happening).
I never quite understood the appeal of Fleet Foxes until 2009, sitting in an abandoned floor of the Suzzalo library at the University of Washington, watching Robin Pecknold and friends play "Blue Ridge Mountains" in an abandoned wing of the Grand Palais in France, simultaneously making me fall in love with Fleet Foxes and with La Blogotheque. From there, I took Fleet Foxes everywhere; I was listening to "Mykonos" on the bus crossing Lake Washington, singing along with "White Winter Hymnal" as I walked home from school, falling asleep to "Ragged Wood" at night.
It's easy to dismiss the lyrics when you hear them sing about hummingbirds and red squirrels. Oftentimes, harmonies and vocals take precedence over any type of "meaning" — "Quiet Houses" feature only three different lines, repeated throughout the song, while "Heard Them Stirring" features no lyrics at all, just harmonies. But this is a dangerous generalization; there's a reason the album is able to illicit such vivid imagery.
When given enough attention, Fleet Foxes is an incredibly rewarding album.
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