It’s easy enough to say that live performance is the true test of a band. But there’s something that goes beyond that. Will a show that’s great once be great 10 times? In a culture prone to fanaticism, there should be things that interest the audience member who’s seen the band on every tour for the last few years, as well as the one who’s seeing them for the first time.

Seattle’s Fleet Foxes have been in New York City twice in the past four months. Though the set list for Sunday night’s show at Webster Hall was almost identical to that from their show at Bowery Ballroom in July, the two performances were wildly divergent. Where the show at Bowery was akin to quietly singing ballads around smoldering embers, the Webster Hall set felt more like a hootenanny around a story-high bonfire.  There are a couple factors in play - frontman Robin Pecknold was sick at the Bowery show, but seemed in good health at Webster, and the Bowery is a more intimate setting. Regardless, both shows were excellent for different reasons.

Though Pecknold’s voice didn’t sound off in July, hearing it at its full capacity was a clear improvement, if only for the sheer power. When he unplugged his guitar and stepped away from the mic for a solo cover of Karen Dalton’s “Katie Cruel,” his voice carried perfectly to every corner of the massive club. Though it certainly helped that he managed to bring the audience — a New York City audience — to near-perfect silence. (It can be done!) Once again, they charmed the entire crowd, and once again, the audience was appreciative to the point of obnoxiousness. The band even made a tongue-in-cheek comment about the return of the cat-call, but it didn’t stop people from whooping literally almost every minute, even throughout softer songs. (more…)

When the Fleet Foxes performed at Bowery Ballroom last week, frontman Robin Pecknold had a cold. But unlike a downtrodden, silent Frank Sinatra, the audience might have never known it if no one had told us (either the Dutchess or the Duke — the openers — mentioned it in their stage banter, as did Pecknold himself). Pecknold’s voice was piercing, still at the shining center of the Fleet Foxes’ appeal. But more than anything, the concert proved that there isn’t just one key to what makes the Fleet Foxes so good. It’s the way the different elements combine.

Opening with “Sun Giant,” the mostly a cappella title track of their EP, the Fleet Foxes showcased one of the major things they’ve come to be known for: their vocal harmonies. Hearing them sing, “What a life I lead in the summer / what a life I lead in the spring,” it would have been easy to listen to just their voices all night long. But when they moved right along into “Sun it Rises,” the soft, ethereal folk rock was the perfect match for their lush vocals.

Fleet Foxes, “Sun Giant” (download)

Moving through songs from their full length, Ragged Wood, and the Sun Giant EP, the Fleet Foxes put on the kind of show that other bands, other audiences dream of. By the end of the third song, the audience was bursting into such loud screaming, clapping, rapturous accolade that the band was visibly taken aback. No doubt the soft-spoken Seattlites are used to tamer crowds.

When the other band members stepped back to let Pecknold perform solo, the music was stripped down and the songwriting received its fair share of attention in the form of Ragged Wood closer, “Oliver James.”

Fleet Foxes, “Oliver James” (download)

The band joined for a few more songs, and then Pecknold came out alone again for an encore of “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song.” As he confessed, “I don’t know what I have done / I’m turning myself into a demon,” the only evil that descended was the end of such an ideal performance. (more…)

What was that goddamn noise? Something had been in my ear for a few weeks. I had my suspicions, so I paid a visit to my favorite review aggregator. Just as I suspected — it was BUZZ. It was buzz, and not only was it coming from Seattle, it was coming from the very same label that has created quite a few buzz bands in its time.

Weighing in with a score of 86 at metacritic, the highest aggregate score this side of fellow critical faves Shearwater, it’s Fleet Foxes with their debut full length, self-titled album on Sub Pop.

When our very own Taylor Long reviewed the band’s Sun Giant EP for Popdose back in April, she described the band as “interesting.” And so they are, just not to me. I’m not saying that this is a bad album, or participating in the critical backlash that Taylor predicted. When I hear good word-of-mouth about a band, I’m usually excited, and looking forward to a positive listening experience. This album, this sound, just didn’t do much for me. It’s pleasant enough, with its pastoral images and gentle sound, but that’s where it ends. (more…)

Having moved away from Seattle to the cement pastures of New York City, I feel woefully out of touch with the consistently good music scene of my hometown. To make up for this, I somewhat frequently badger my friends into telling me about the good Seattle bands. My friends told me — months and months and months ago — about Fleet Foxes, but like the busy, crazy-brained New Yorker that I am, I didn’t remember this recommendation until recently (and not, surprisingly, because of all the press they’ve received lately). While it is, indeed, a disproportionate amount of text to cover the five songs that have been officially released as part of the Sun Giant EP (the album has been leaked for ages, possibly well before they knew they would land on the roster of Seattle champs Sub Pop), the truth is that this is a legitimately interesting band, and one that’s far less gimmicky than most of the bands that have received hype this year (Vampire Weekend, Man Man), which should give them, with any luck, a better chance at not seeing too much backlash, though the Rolling Stone website recently snubbed them (but let’s face it, Rolling Stone hasn’t exactly been known for being on any sort of pulse for quite some time — note that they can’t even be firm in labeling the band as “hype,” they have to preface it with “for now”).

The real story with Fleet Foxes are the harmonies. Without them, it would be easy to set them aside as just another pleasant indie pop band that’s not particularly remarkable, but not necessarily bad, either. There have been dozens upon dozens of these, and there will be dozens and dozens more. The harmonies are what set Fleet Foxes apart. They’re the reason why you can put “Fleet Foxes” and “Crosby Stills Nash & Young” into Google and get so many results you’ll be tempted to check for plagiarism.

In some regards, the CSNY comparison makes sense — ethereal folk rock that screams spring with shimmering guitar parts that rain down like April showers put together with harmonies so beautiful that you could hear them on their own and be completely satisfied. But CSNY rip-offs Fleet Foxes are not. They’ve got a tinge of that other-continent inspired aesthetic that’s going around indie rock these days, and they’ve also got the benefit of well, youth. Robin Pecknold, the primary songwriter, is 21. Remember what being 21 felt like? That’s in here, too. (more…)