by Rachael
There is nothing modern about Fleet Foxes. Their self-titled debut is
an already-classic collection of Medieval gems that evoke that
mythological historical America that never really existed. The album
could be subtitled “Songs About Mountains.”
“White Winter Hymnal” has the most immediate hook of the bunch; it’s
almost too easy to never have been written before. “Tiger Mountain
Peasant Song” is ancient and haunting, while “Quiet Houses” is a silly
shout-fest that unravels into a hippie jam. It’s fantastic. “Your
Protector” appears on the tail end of the record and, after so much
simple prettiness, its urgency is a shocker. Like the others, its
lyrics are vague and irrelevant. It’s got a killer chorus and a
bleeding vocal. It’s followed by a lovely song about birds and
another one about mountains. Do these guys have electricity?
Nevermind The Posers 