In celebration of the much anticipated Shore tour announcement last week, I am abso-f*ckin-lutely ecstatic to share a Fleet Foxes earworm. And we know this one is going to be epic, considering the praise Shore has received over the past year – not to mention a grammy nomination. 

Other than one ticket-to-stream performance of A Very Lonely Solstice last year, Robin Pecknold has held off touring Fleet Foxes since 2017’s release of Crack Up. And I have been sliding in his DMs begging for a tour ever since.

Truthfully, this album plays best when listened to as an entire unit, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t standouts. “Sunblind” and “Maestranza” were both early hits I couldn’t help play out, the former an upbeat tribute to artists that inspired Pecknold. Over the winter months, it’s been “Featherweight,” of all songs, that’s played on repeat in my head.

The combination of strings and strums, glistening keyboard strokes, and my babe’s falsetto voice pulls you in from the very first verse:

All this time I’ve been hanging on

To an edge I caught when we both were young

That the world I want wasn’t near enough

All was distant, always off

Immediately there’s a sense of alienation, of otherness. I’m sorry to reveal there is another big quarantine theme going on throughout this entire album, but this record is a celebration of “life in the face of death” as Robin Pecknold shared. And what a sweet, comforting release it is, as he leads to the warm chorus:

May the last long year be forgiven

All that war left within it

I couldn’t, though I’m beginning to

And we only made it together

Feel some change in the weather

I couldn’t though I’m beginning to

Something about the line “I couldn’t, though I’m beginning to” gets me. We’re catching this artist in a liminal space (to use a piece of literary jargon I once rolled my eyes at in grad school). He’s occupying the space between frustration and forgiveness. 

Robin Pecknold’s lyrics have always been a little out there. Meditations on nature, space, time, the wilderness. Rarely does he ground us with a too-sentimental reference to earthly love, or romantic woes. Believe me, I’ve tried long and hard to find any line from a hit like “Blue Ridge Mountains” that was suitable for print, but somehow I feel like “In the quivering forest/ Where the shivering dog rests” would not tattoo well on my body. So as much as I’ve wanted to string Fleet Foxes lyrics together in some grown-up version of a dramatic AIM away message, his lyrics sort of defy that simplicity and sweetness. They feel bigger. The stakes feel higher.

In this case, the stakes of experiencing New York during lockdown, riding down the streets only to pass boarded up stores, and participating in a summer of fiery protests against police brutality.

Listening activity: Breathin’. Stretchin’. Eyes closed!

This is a slower song compared with some of the others, but it feels revelatory. We’re part of his meditation process. The build up to the final realization, my favorite part of the song, “And somehow I see it’s free” (why is it always at 2 mins 40 secs in that a song rocks my world?). What’s free? Forgiveness? Truth? Connection? Whatever it is feels right. 

The kindness, the heartfelt energy poured into this track… I hope it heals you like it’s healed me. And if not, maybe one warm day is all you really need.

And with love and hate in the balance

One last way past the malice

One warm day is all I really need