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Rating: * * * * *
You can tell the five members of Seattle's Fleet Foxes grew up listening to bands their parents loved, like The Beach Boys, Steely Dan and Crosby Stills & Nash. Singer Robin Pecknold's first halcyon utterances on opener Sun It Rises are a perfect pitch for launching into Good Vibrations, but instead of erupting into a crazy, excitable love song, Fleet Foxes conjure up a lilting mantra of mandolin, steely guitar, thrumming drums and choral harmonies. It's here something special starts to unfold.
It's harmonic pop. But also experimental, brave, fresh and, most importantly, they are never afraid to be stunningly beautiful, like on the acoustic Meadowlarks.
Since leaving home they've obviously devoured many styles of music, from classical to jazz to psychedelia and, as the cover art attests, English folk music.
There's Ragged Wood, a three-part mini masterpiece, which canters off only to be reined back in by acoustic guitars and a Procol Harum organ, and the way they launch, flute-and-all, into the dark gypsy folk of Your Protector (where they run with the devil) is so self-assured it's scary.
As an album, Fleet Foxes has a similar, musically rebellious and brazen feel to it like the Kings of Leon's debut album, only less dusty and sweaty of course.
The other scary thing is you sense there's even better to come from Fleet Foxes in the future.
Scott Kara
