Following the release of their eponymous 2008 record, the Seattle–based Fleet Foxes became critical darlings (Fleet Foxes earned 4 stars from Rolling Stone and a coveted 9/10 rating from Pitchfork, both of which are marks of having “made it”), settling in alongside a slew of like–hearted, harmony–laden folkies (Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear, Iron & Wine).
Fleet Foxes, like their peers, rely on a mostly vocals–driven formula; their songs often resonate like church hymns, with lead singer Robin Pecknold’s lyrics reinforcing a rustic, old–fashioned vibe. The folk–baroque fad ushered in the “lumberjack” look: in 2008, plaid shirts and beards were suddenly ubiquitous — and every hipster wanted to rent a cabin in the woods and learn how to whittle.
Fleet Foxes return this spring with Helplessness Blues, also produced by Phil Ek. The album heavily echoes its predecessor; it’s bucolic and pretty Americana, infused with choruses borrowed from The Beach Boys. Fleet Foxes aren’t breaking new ground here; despite the familiar territory, they sometimes falter. Pecknold’s lyrics grow increasingly cloying (from the title track: “I was raised up believing I was somehow unique, like a snowflake distinct among snowflakes, unique in each way you can see”), and though he’s after the ambiance of a sunlit orchard in autumn, he ends up conjuring a stolid cliche.
“Lorelai” and “Battery Kinzie” are standouts, showcasing what the band is capable of at its best. “The Shrine/An Argument” is an eight–minute opus, cut with jarring silences and screeching dissonance.
All in all, Helplessness Blues holds its own, but it can’t compare to the original.
Fleet Foxes, Helplessness Blues
Sounds Like: Indie folk by way of Brian Wilson 99–Cent Download: “Battery Kinzie” Good For: Getting in touch with your rootsy, scruffy side
