Did anyone else think that Helplessness Blues was a flop on first listen? All those positive reviews made me feel like the only one who wasn't on board. I just couldn't understand where all those raves were coming from and lord knows, I tried. Where they heard majesty, I heard directionless wandering. Where they cited insightful lyrics, I heard words heavy on imagery, but without much purpose. And it's not that I didn't want to love it, I wanted nothing more. I was a fan five seconds into their first record; it's just that with Helplessness Blues, nothing seemed as powerful, or fully formed, and because of that I felt let down.
Is that the way to go into a Fleet Foxes concert, two days before Helplessness Blues drops? Probably not. I was admittedly feeling a little low about the band, and really wanted to just bask in the old and forget about the new. As I expected, they wouldn't let me. They pretty much played the entire new record over the course of the night, but somehow won me over in the process. So much so, that Helplessness Blues has stayed on repeat ever since. How's that for a validation of their performance?
If you've read about their sets before, or watched videos online, you probably know that those majestic harmonies everyone goes gaga for are the real deal and can be replicated outside of the studio. Gallons of reverb coat the harmonies, and here's a fun fact: the drummer is their most talented second-string vocalist. When they sing together, it's stirring, in a very deep way, but usually the focus is on Robin. As their lead singer you would expect him to pull in a few more eyes, but seeing that his voice is so big and rich, it's honestly hard to pay attention to his bandmates unless they are joining him in his song. This they don't do as much as you would think, which actually seems to fall in line with the shift towards the more Robin-centric songs that fill up their new record. Make no mistake though, they are absolutely essential. This was apparent when Robin came out to play "Silver Dagger" alone, as the first song of the encore. Without his band behind him, his voice, while still something to admire, lacked the warmth of sound that is usually there to lift it up. To hear the difference was like being wrapped in a thin blanket, rather than a quilt; it still works, but the latter is a whole lot better.
The big change in the live setting is that the songs feel less transportational. Remember that first time you heard "Blue Ridge Mountains" and you felt like you were suddenly in a wooded grove, happily lost, far from civilization? That doesn't happen live. Or at least it didn't at this concert. Part of me wonders if it was because of the sound mix, which featured an ugly bass fuzz-out every time they kicked up the intensity. The breakdown in "Mykonos" met a particularly grisly fate, as did that section of "Helplessness Blues" where they start ramping up to that pretty part about the orchard. It didn't ruin the show or anything, but it took away their chance to be truly transcendent, and put them in a place where their talent was unfairly represented, especially since it kept happening during some of their best songs.
When things were going smoothly—and to be fair, they usually did—they performed beautifully. I was particularly taken with "The Shrine/An Argument." I know, it's a Helplessness Blues song, but that was kind of the point: on the album, didn't get it; live, was blown away. I realized when they when were playing it that this song, and the experimentation it represents, was actually the right direction for them. After the first record, there was really nowhere else to go, unless they wanted to dive deeper into medieval music (please don't). By stretching songs out and turning them into mini-suites, they were giving themselves permission to explore the limits of folk. Like I mentioned before, sometimes the right melodic match wasn't waiting for them as they went off into the great unknown, but here, every change in the tempo and/or delivery seemed alive and fresh. Also, it's kind of fun to see Robin, this mellow, good-natured looking guy, just lose his shit.
It was also in this moment where the new record clicked for me. I started to see the value in their exploration, and gave them a break for not bringing home something as outstanding as "White Winter Hymnal" or "English House." When I did that, the songs were allowed to be what they were instead of what I wanted them to be. "Montezuma" was actually compelling, "Lorelai" ached harder than I had previously noticed, and I seriously can't stop listening to "Helplessness Blues." I guess with some records, you just need the band to walk you through it.
Before Fleet Foxes, another Seattle band called The Cave Singers pulled their bluesy, hill-stomp express into the station. This train seemed like it had been unearthed from the swamp and sent down the line in search of a 4am hootenanny, or at the very least, some old timey tent show on the side of the road. It was conducted by a gravelly voiced gentleman named Peter Quirk, who sounds like a cross between Heartbreaker-era Ryan Adams (think "Bartering Lines") and Deer Tick's John McCauley, and does the best Jim Morrison trance-poetry impression this side of the afterlife. It's a style I love, so I jumped on board and said point it towards the dawn. Thing is, I don't think this is the type of train that runs in the daylight. Cheers to the nocturne.
