Their fourth album will be available along with a 55 minute companion film, from 14.31 today.
Fleet Foxes New Album ‘Shore’ – released later today
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On his fourth album, singer-songwriter Robin Pecknold refines and hones Fleet Foxes’ crisp folk-rock sound, crafting another musically adventurous album that is warm and newly full of grace.
For Robin Pecknold, the music of Fleet Foxes has been a coming-of-age story. Pecknold founded the band in Seattle with childhood friend Skyler Skjelset when they were just about 20 years old, making unpretentious yet studied folk music and quickly signing with Sub Pop, who released the band’s pair of landmark 2008 releases, Sun Giant EP and their self-titled debut. Fleet Foxes hid their youth in plain sight, singing fables and channeling musical influences—like Judee Sill and the Byrds—that signaled nous and maturity. By 2011, a 25-year-old Pecknold began to show his age with the existential Helplessness Blues before disappearing and returning, at 31, with the more confrontational Crack-Up. Over the course of just a few releases, you could trace the arc of a songwriter shedding his past, finding his voice, and making more personal, complex, and, often, brooding music.
Shore, the fourth album from Fleet Foxes, brings gratitude back into the fold as Pecknold ascends to a graceful new plateau. The record’s mood is born largely from existential worries and the shadow of death, common concerns of Pecknold, who, now 34, has spent his career transforming anxiety into euphoria with towering, wall-of-sound choruses that belie the unease that inspires them. Career-making songs like the barnstorming “Helplessness Blues” were strengthened by a sense of overcoming despair, the feeling that we could all stare down obsolescence and say, That’s OK, I’m OK. Distress does not disappear entirely on Shore; it’s just accepted and worn, making for an album that is musically adventurous and spiritually forgiving, like it’s constantly breathing in fresh air.
On Shore, being grateful also means staying true to yourself and expressing what comes naturally. The album is bright and open, recalling, at times, the sunniness of their early songs, as well as the lighter moments of 2017’s Crack-Up, like “Fool’s Errand.” Instead of turning away from major-key melodies and blissful vocal harmonies, Pecknold leans into musical happiness on songs like “Sunblind” and “Young Man’s Game,” among the most jubilant entries in the band’s catalog. On the latter, Pecknold acknowledges the futility of faking it, singing: “I could worry through each night/Find something unique to say/I could pass as erudite/But it’s a young man’s game.” Reinvention, he implies, is deceitful; refinement and reflection, instead, are the paths to progress.
The idea of refinement is crucial to Fleet Foxes because, on the surface, the band sounds remarkably similar to how it did 12 years ago—without feeling like it’s retreading past sounds or themes. The resurgent Crack-Up demonstrated Pecknold’s evolution as a lyricist and songwriter, someone who could write stirring couplets while commanding extended metaphors and maintaining a degree of writerly distance. The album also contained more intricate arrangements, something that Pecknold has carried onto Shore, where the compositions are even more textured and buoyant. The new album, which Pecknold performs almost entirely by himself, is lively, as if he has broke open previous albums’ ambitious centerpieces (namely “The Shrine / An Argument” and “Third of May / Ōdaigahara”) and spread bits of those proggy endeavors across the whole record. “A Long Way Past the Past,” for instance, layers horns and a shifting guitar line beneath Pecknold’s harmonies and words about letting go of regrets. The crisp production details give Shore a natural feel, like the guitars, drums, and horns warble and float in the breeze alongside the birds, whose chirps lead “Maestranza.”
Elsewhere, there are explicit nods to contemporary classical music, as on “Jara,” which features hocketing by Meara O’Reilly, and “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman,” which pairs O’Reilly with a snippet of Brian Wilson counting to resemble Philip Glass’ Einstein on the Beach and, in its sampling, also recalls the early work of Steve Reich. These moments don’t last long, serving as intros to their respective tracks, but they do signal Fleet Foxes’ continued willingness to experiment and venture beyond the confines of their reputation as a folk band whose music sounds as accessible and pleasant coming out of the speakers at Whole Foods as it does to Post Malone.
In composing some of the most vibrant music of his career, Pecknold also opens up as a writer, returning a bit to the nature imagery of his early work while turning his poeticisms into actual reflections of his thoughts. On the striking “Sunblind,” Pecknold shares his love for late songwriter heroes, including Richard Swift, John Prine, Bill Withers, Judee Sill, Elliott Smith, David Berman, and Arthur Russell. He mourns their loss and thanks them for leaving behind the gifts of their music, while also connecting their art with a life lived fully. “I’m gonna swim for a week in/Warm American water with dear friends,” Pecknold sings, alluding to Silver Jews’ 1998 opus and juxtaposing the jagged brilliance of Berman’s songs with the physical act of “swimming high on a lea in an eden.” “Sunblind” is made all the more exhilarating by how Pecknold arrays the darkness of American Water and the ocean’s vast beauty, acknowledging the former and embracing the latter. He returns to Berman on the sedate closer “Shore,” specifically recalling the day of the songwriter’s death. At the song’s end, Pecknold repeats, “Now the quarter moon is out,” again turning to the landscape in mourning.
Pecknold’s appreciation for life, his joy in spite or because of death, continues throughout Shore. Dark figures creep into the edges of the songs—e.g., “These last days/Con men controlled my fate” from “Maestranza”—as if their invitations to give into self-pity or hate are necessary to propel Pecknold toward music that’s rich and fulfilling without becoming overly sentimental. Every moment feels earned. The album’s climax arrives on the back half of the propulsive “Quiet Air / Gioia,” where Pecknold exalts, “Oh devil walk by/I never want to die.” It’s a consciously excessive declaration that does nothing to obscure our greatest fear, earnest and vulnerable in its very willingness to make the admission.
Fleet Foxes’ music has never been overly heavy, but each release brings expectations. Pecknold said that he wrote some of Helplessness Blues to have new material to play on tour with Joanna Newsom. And the tangled, prog-folk of Crack-Up, of course, came after a six-year hiatus, landing like a great unburdening of every idea gathered during Pecknold’s time as a student at Columbia University. Shore may be the first Fleet Foxes album without such a burdensome weight, arriving somewhat by surprise, without a long layoff, and into a cultural landscape that no longer foregrounds indie rock at the center of the musical universe. There’s a freedom to it that shows in the lithesome “For a Week or Two” and “Thymia,” or at the beginning of the record with the singing of Oxford student Uwade Akhere, suggesting that Pecknold does not feel the need to lead the way or come back immediately with some massive statement. Shore looks to the world and realizes there is already enough, as if staring into a darkness and responding with beauty, acceptance, and light.
My god, what an absolute load of tosh!
“Unpretentious but studied folk” as opposed to that media release which is pretentious wank.
I read it twice to fully absorb its awfulness. How on Earth do people think this will assist the success of the record?
I hope the record is better.
The NME used to have a column where they reprinted verbatim extracts from press-releases accompanying new-release records. Each extract was quite rightly appended, in large font, with the word BOLLOCKS!
I don’t expect it to be anywhere near as good as the debut, hope it’s as good as Helplessness Blues, and pray that it’s better than the formless, song-free mess that Crack Up turned out to be.
That press release is utter tosh though.
I’m firmly in the first album is ace but the other two albums are bobbins camp… However on first listen this album is rather good.
There are several elements that make a Fleet Foxes album great. Layered vocals, daring instrumental swells and vibrant, at times anxious, lyrics are all present throughout their catalogue, from the assured folk-pop of their 2008 self-titled debut to the magnificent existential ramblings on 2017’s Crack-Up. These signifiers are all present on their new album Shore, but the effects are much more nuanced. Fleet Foxes remain a quintessential millennial band, and, on Shore—which dropped with only a day’s warning—they’re once again tapping into the millennial psyche, this time with a little more optimism.
Upon first listen, Shore lacks the immediacy of Fleet Foxes and 2011’s Helplessness Blues—at least from a sonic standpoint. But frontman Robin Pecknold’s astonishingly thoughtful lyrics quickly bring the listener back up to speed, at times recalling the grandiose scope of Crack-Up’s more cheerful moments, even if the indie-rock stylings are lagging a bit. He’s at times bursting with love (or, in the case of the triumphant “Wading In Waist-High Water,” in over his head) and at others dryly funny (“I’ve been solving for the meaning of life / No one tried before and likely I’m right,” he offers on “Young Man’s Game”). But he’s almost always getting at something wise or meaningful.
At times throughout his career, Pecknold has hidden behind more metaphorical lyrics and mythological narratives. But, on album highlight “Sunblind” (which pleasantly bleeds together with “Wading In Waist-High Water’’ in the tracklisting), he’s forthright in dedicating the song to his late musical heroes: John Prine, David Berman, Bill Withers, Judee Still, Elliott Smith and Richard Swift are all called out by name, with the latter two providing the soundtrack to a weekend respite (“I’m going out for a weekend / I’m gonna borrow a Martin or Gibson / With Either/Or and The Hex for my Bookends / Carrying every text that you’ve given”). The list goes on as he namedrops Jeff Buckley and Arthur Russell, singing “I’m loud and alive / singing you all night,” as if to say “I won’t let anyone forget you” to each of those artists who left us too soon.
Shore only gets livelier from there, peaking into Sufjan Stevens-esque nostalgia on “Featherweight” and expressing old-soul fatigue on the quick-paced rocker “Young Man’s Game.” Pecknold also familiarizes himself with his own privilege on the second of those two, singing “I’ve been lucky as sin / not one thing in my way.” He expounds on this idea in a statement released alongside the album: “I’ve been so lucky in so many ways in my life, so lucky to be born with the seeds of the talents I have cultivated and lucky to have had so many unreal experiences. Maybe with luck can come guilt sometimes. I know I’ve welcomed hardship wherever I could find it, real or imagined, as a way of subconsciously tempering all this unreal luck I’ve had.” That gratitude seems to radiate from every corner of Shore, even its more somber moments.
Now 34, Pecknold seems much more comfortable with life’s messy bits—and much more eager to embrace the small things. He pulls a friend from the depths of despair on the jaunty “Jara” and condemns the youthful days when he once romanticized pain on “A Long Way Past The Past.” But it’s on the title track and album closer where he seems the most at peace, clinging to a loved one for dear life before memorializing Prine and Berman yet again. “Kin of my kin / I rely on you / taking me in,” he sings, reaching for the safety of the shore from the choppy banks. The root of the German word for friendship roughly translates to “place of high safety,” and that holy stronghold seems to be what Pecknold is grasping at throughout Shore’s generous 55 minutes. Shore is a place to return to when you’re weary.
The album is indeed the work of many, which is maybe one reason it feels so generous. From the numerous instrumentalists and collaborators (including recent Taylor Swift partner Aaron Dessner and Oxford student and singer Uwade Akhere, who opens the album with a beautifully controlled verse) to the choir of children who usher in Pecknold’s first lines on the record, Shore feels broad and warm, like a wedding reception or another gathering of beloved friends and family, even if Pecknold (humble as he may be) really remains the sole Fleet Foxes mastermind. There’s an air of togetherness that feels especially vital right now.
While Shore is rife with specific musical allusions and abundant references to nature, these lyrical quirks favored by Pecknold are all in service of the album’s overall cozy tone (“cozy” being an applicable word, because the band released Shore exactly in time with the autumnal equinox, thereby fully owning their reputation for being habitual creators of cool weather vibes). Pecknold grabs the listener by the hand on “I’m Not My Season,” ready to pass on this graceful reminder: “Though I liked summer light on you / If we ride a winter-long wind / Well time’s not what I belong to / And you’re not the season you’re in.” We as humans are not defined by circumstances—we just live through them.
However, you’ll find many critics and reviews framing the music of 2020 in the context of 2020’s many horrible events. As they well should—it’s impossible to remove one’s experience with an album or song from the time when it was released, especially during a year as fraught as this one. Pain and anxiety in music are easy to detect and magnify right now. But Pecknold’s positive poetry within Shore feels even more necessary. His message on the record is a command to seek peace where you can find it, to find your highest place of safety. Pecknold’s own description of such a place in the song “Featherweight” is as reassuring as any line on this steady—at times revelatory—album: “And with love and hate in the balance / One last way past the malice / One warm day is all I really need.” Shore doesn’t ask much of us—it merely shines into the room where you’re sitting, bringing in light like early morning sunbeams.
Whenever I see the name ‘Fleet Foxes’ my Brain automatically suggests ‘A flock of Seagulls’ so I’ve never actually heard any of their songs.
Probably just as well, you wouldn’t like them. I know I’m not the only one who does on here, but they’re definitely a marmite band and attract an unusual amount of bile, although for a group of musicians who make music that sounds like it comes from the seventies one would expect more love. Ah, well, so long as Brooce and Bob are still going we’re all happy.
For me at least, one of those bands were one album -the first in their case – is all you need
https://www.theguardian.com/music/2020/sep/23/fleet-foxes-robin-pecknold-shore
The last we heard from Fleet Foxes was back in 2017 on their spacious and ambitious Crack-Up album. With multi-episodic songs and an interconnected, mature and opaque feel in places it marked a change from the relative light and musical innocence of their first two albums.
In his accompanying ‘artistic statement’ to the surprise release of fourth album Shore (timed to coincide with the autumnal equinox), Robin Pecknold delved into the background to the album, sounding genuinely surprised and thankful, firstly that it came into existence at all and secondly, that it had been shared so quickly after its creation (Pecknold only finished writing the album in June and recording was completed in August).
Longstanding collaborator Beatriz Artola seems to have been more instrumental than ever both in contributing to and helping Pecknold produce the album (parts were written and recorded in Portugal, France, Los Angeles and New York). As the pandemic started to take hold at the same time as the album developed, Pecknold realised he wanted to make an album “that celebrated life in the face of death”.
It’s immediately apparent that Shore occupies a different space to its predecessor. On the whole it sounds more foregrounded and melodic, with fuller and more consonant arrangements. An enjoyable prime Fleetwood Mac-like sheen saturates much of the album and there’s positivity, happiness and effusiveness within the songs that is hugely welcome.
The first sign that this album will offer something different comes with the unexpected appearance of a female voice, that of relatively unknown singer Uwade Akhere, on opening track Wading In Waist-High Water. It has a mildly repositioning effect but also introduces the supremely comfortable, relaxed feel that permeates the album. It flows into Sunblind, in which Pecknold movingly pays tribute to other musicians who have passed away (Judee Sill, Elliott Smith, Arthur Russell, David Berman and Richard Swift all feature, among others).
Tracks like Can I Believe You show how Pecknold’s voice still carries powerful clarity of expression and communication of emotion. Musically it’s the biggest he’s sounded, like flying over jagged mountain peaks while taking in the scenic views. Jara further showcases his unrestrained joy of singing, also being one of many tracks here to have a breezy, exploratory pace to it. These early stages make Shore feel like an album about being in love, both generally and specifically with music. In his notes Pecknold writes how we might not need music to live but he can’t imagine life without it, and this album is his moving attestation.
Within the high fidelity there are some understated moments. Featherweight has a gentle, hazily autumnal Grizzly Bear feel (not a surprise, given Daniel Rossen’s presence elsewhere on the album) and For A Week Or Two bears the closest resemblance to old Fleet Foxes with its languid Beach Boys harmonies. Maestranza meanwhile is arguably the most soaring track of an album that boasts several fully in-flight, high altitude moments and is followed by the liberated, sunny disposition sound of Young Man’s Game.
The second half of the album sees more in the way of quieter, softer-focus songs. I’m Not My Season has a poignant tenderness, Quiet Air/Giola possesses some inviting piano mini-diversions and Thymia recalls the wistful, rural impressionism of The Trials Of Van Occupanther-era Midlake. This stretch of subtlety is broken by the energetic, whirlwind arrangements of Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman with propulsive Philip Glass-like motifs abounding amid the building momentum (it also features a sample of Brian Wilson’s voice from The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds sessions, an additional nod from Pecknold to one of his musical heroes).
Pecknold commented how he “didn’t want to leave any gas in the tank” when releasing this album and it rings resoundingly true. He may have experienced self-doubt and uncertainty in the past but the songs here suggest he’s taking steps to move beyond this. Shore is a glorious, life-affirming collection of songs, a move to the centreground that shows his absorbing of musical influences is paying rich dividends. It has ‘future classic’ written all over it.