Review Summary: Fleet Foxes emerge from the haze and isolation of summer 2020 with a soothing, languid, and revelatory new take on their iconic folk rock sound.
Are you awake yet ？
The summer is already over. Don't tell me you've been asleep this whole time. Dissociating, on autopilot, baking in the sun. In their fourth full length release Fleet Foxes return in much the same state to jolt us awake and remind us that yes, even in 2020, time marches ever onward. Memories to be made. Growth to be had. Don't miss the bus.
The aptly titled 'Shore' marks the fourth excellent LP in a row for the earthen, harmonic wizards that make up Fleet Foxes. Most of all lead singer Robin Pecknold, who demonstrates considerable personal growth and nuance as a lyricist. Washed out and sun drenched, 'Shore' is clearly a product of the summer, evocative of the endless stretches of sun drenched shore side days of our youth, viewed through the eyes of an introspective, mature Pecknold.
The band has in part shed their folk trappings, swapping their iconic flannel for breezy summer shades, and instrumentation to match. The pristine keys, dynamic percussion, and polished, layered vocals almost have a dream pop like quality. Almost. The prominence of acoustic guitars and multi part vocal harmonies keep 'Shore' firmly in folk rock territory – only the band has found clever means of bending, stretching, and expanding the borders of the genre - by borrowing tiny pieces from Beach House, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, and even Talk Talk.
Its almost ironic that the album was released on the autumn equinox, it being so fixated on the haze of nostalgic summer days. ‘Sunblind’ and ‘Jara,’ both likely indie hits, sweep you away on warm summertime squalls, waxing poetic on lost loves and social struggles, eyes wide and full of wonder. But unlike the band’s earlier releases, these aren’t bite sized pieces of speculative nostalgia, but focused exercises of personal introspection. In them, Pecknold leverages the act of dwelling on past regrets as a transformative experience:
"First sign of the first good morning, since you’ve been out of town,”
“First time any violent omens don’t shadow me around…”
This intensely personal quality falls in line with Fleet Foxes’ prior releases, except here it is broader in scope, and more ambitious in sound. The melodies on display are sweeping and gorgeous, as always, but the hooks are more unassuming, its structure bordering on experimental. Instead of marking its highs with pop perfect recurring hooks, 'Shore' amplifies its atmosphere by employing exquisite, delirious layers of sound. None of this should dissuade you from diving into the album, however, as it is kept carefully on-rails by the band, who by now are adept at balancing discipline with ambition.
This album marks a turning point for both Pecknold and the band at large; the wide eyed idealism of Helplessness Blues has been replaced with a languishing anomie that Fleet Foxes miraculously finds comfort in. Which is really the best anyone can hope for amid the social isolation and unrest of 2020. 'Shore' gently sears its way into your id the way a comfortably burning sun slowly bakes and toasts one’s complexion, leaving you in a contented haze.
You won’t want to stay there, however, nor would the band. The rich, introspective qualities of 'Shore' engage you in a way that Fleet Foxes never have before. Its clearly the product of Pecknold’s isolation under quarantine, likely the best piece of Covid-influenced art to date, because it asks the listener to peel apart the layers of our respective isolation. To reflect.
To wake up.
