Among my social circle, I have a famous distaste for bands like Mumford & Sons, Of Monsters & Men, and the rest of their ilk of faux-backwoods, banjo-accompanied strum-and-stomp folk pop.
Every ounce of that aversion is due to Fleet Foxes, whose explosion of popularity in the late 00s opened the floodgates for imitators.
However, while there is an undeniable amount of trend hopping in the bands that followed them, Fleet Foxes’ fifteen-year career betrays an ignorance to—if not disdain for—the passing trends of popular music. Rather, their influences have always run much deeper than the flavor of the moment.
Never has that been more evident than their fourth album, Shore, which was recorded in many of the same studios as the classic albums that have served as the Foxes’ musical north stars. Whether through observable or supernatural means, those influences are more synthesized on this album than ever before.
When I first heard Fleet Foxes, my brain distilled their sound to the convenient label “Indie Folk Beach Boys.” And while bandleader Robin Pecknold—now its sole member—has listed many more influences (Cat Stevens, Joni Mitchell, and Judee Sill to name a few), The Beach Boys have remained the most obvious musical touchstone, even as they have warped their sonic palette with extended psychedelic jams, and tape manipulation.
But on Shore, Pecknold’s place as Brian Wilson’s heir apparent is laid to rest. The lush, sunshiny harmonies that have always filled their album are obviously still here, but there is more of a chamber pop flavor than ever before. Much of this is thanks to the many unique instruments he had at his disposal when recording at the legendary Electro-Vox and Electric Lady studios. Among them were a drum set belonging to Frank Sinatra and a vibrophone played on Pet Sounds. He plays tribute to many of these influences on “Sunblind,” an homage that features the names of many of his musical heroes. Brian himself appears in the form of a sample, counting in the rollicking “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman.” And while he may be the only remaining permanent member of Fleet Foxes, he enlisted plenty of help to record the album. Among the players here are Christopher Bear and Daniel Rossen from Grizzly Bear and Uwade Akhere, a fan enlisted by Pecknold after he heard her versions of a couple of his tunes, whose voice is the first heard on the disc.
Work on this album started immediately after Crack-up, Pecknold aiming to write a brighter album than that one. After writing and recording most of the arrangements though, he felt lost on the lyrics. Then, the COVID-19 pandemic shut down the world. He left Vox studios and returned home to New York where he waited, watching the rise of conspiracy theories, racial unrest, and political division—not much fodder for a “bright” album, admittedly. And while the lyrics aren’t too explicit about these issues (have their lyrics ever been explicit about anything?), there is a defiant, almost violent hopefulness that pervades these songs.
“A Long Way Past the Past” is surefooted and triumphant, modulated electric guitars blooming in psychedelic chords behind Robin’s bellowing voice. “Young Man’s Game” sounds practically exuberant, despite its lyrics about imposter syndrome and lack of inspiration. “Can I Believe You” is a jubilant sounding anthem dedicated to the risk and reward of trusting another person with yourself. That track also features a choir composed of hundreds of Fleet Foxes fans on Instagram, bringing more authenticity to the communal aspect of the song.
For me though, in a strange way though, this album represents the absurdity of how time shapes our perception of music. Though this album was released last fall (intentionally on the autumnal equinox), vinyl manufacturing delays prevented the physical copies from getting to fans until this week. This album has been on Spotify the whole time. I’ve owned a digital copy for months. I’ve listened to it dozens of times. But somehow, when I put the record on, it feels like I still barely know it yet. It feels like a new release to me now. And as such, it will likely make it onto my 2021 Year-End list (since I omitted it last year, forgetting that it existed without a physical version). But considering that the last year and a half has largely existed independent of time, it makes sense that an album largely inspired by that year’s events would feel similarly untethered.