Are those guys homeless? No, they're just the Fleet Foxes

- BRIAN CREECH

The Georgia Theater was crowded to the gills as the Fleet Foxes humbly ambled on stage last Tuesday evening. Bearded, uncombed and unwashed, lead singer Robyn Pecknold played the part of wandering troubadour when he didn’t even take off his jacket to don a borrowed guitar. The rest of the Foxes, each in a state of minor dishevelment, were his road-weary traveling companions.
    

Their haggard look was well earned. Upon arriving in Athens earlier in the afternoon, Pecknold’s own guitar broke while the band unloaded their equipment. One of the band’s amplifiers also blew-up during sound check. Pecknold showed a characteristic candor that followed him through the night when he said, “We don’t do drama, but, man, Athens, you guys really rose to challenge. Everyone knew someone to call to fix the problem.”
    

From the packed audience, you couldn’t tell that the band had any technical mishaps while preparing for the concert. Kings of composure, their trademark vocal harmonies never faltered, and the instruments were crisp. The show started with the harmonized vocal opening of “Sun it Rises,” and continued through every other song from their self-titled debut.
The Georgia Theater architects mustn’t have been aware of acoustics when they built the place, because all the noise from the bar travels into the crowd, sometimes overpowering the music coming from the stage. But after four songs, the entire crowd stood captivated and silent as rich harmonies echoed throughout the theater.
    

There was a clear “gee-whiz” excitement the band had about playing to such a large crowd. The crowd reciprocated their enthusiasm and got lost in the mystical and complex atmosphere of the Fleet Foxes songs. “Blue Ridge Mountains,” “Your Protector” and “Ragged Wood” all sound like compositions the Beach Boys would have written, if they had come down from Appalachia instead of straight out of California.
    

Drummer Craig Curran’s back beats pushed each song with a sense of pulse-quickening urgency, especially during the break down of “Your Protector,” where the guitar hook, bass line and drums all built the song to almost Springsteen-esque levels of intensity.
    

The Fleet Foxes secret weapon is the emotional range they are capable of capturing with the smallest of musical gestures. With three notes in the middle of “Blue Ridge Mountains,” the song shifts from a pastoral meditation to a harrowing snowed-in catastrophe soundtracked by one of the most sinister repeating piano melodies of recent memory.
    

After the middle of the set, the band departed and left Pecknold on stage with just a borrowed guitar and his voice. He cracked a few jokes with the audience, and then casually launched into a cover of Judee Sill’s “Crayon Angels” that seamlessly segued into “Oliver James,” a finger-picked ballad about a baby found in a river bed. Pecknold’s solo voice took the main stage, soaring and falling to fill the entire theater. Again, the audience remained rapt, exploding into applause as he said, “Thanks” and stepped off-stage.
    

After coming back on for an encore, and the debut of a new song called “Silver City,” Pecknold and company again touted their praise of Athens. After a spirited sing-a-long version of “White Winter Hymnal,” Pecknold shrugged his shoulders and told the beyond capacity crowd “You guys are all awesome. Thanks so much for having us here.” To which someone in the crowd replied “Move here!” After scratching his beard and shrugging his shoulders, Pecknold said, “Sure, why not?”

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Fleet Foxes Performing White Winter Hymnal