its turned chilly again here. not that it really got hot this year. walking home in a borrowed sweater with the hood pulled tight around my face i notice i’m crunching through brown leaves. i don’t remember them falling. perhaps last night’s fireworks left me with a november cordite memory.
still, this turn in the weather; turn in the season feels like the start of comfortable twilight for this year.
as blankets unfurl over bedspreads then; as cocoa steam curls me to sleep, some music to dream to… my log cabin in the mountains feels closer than ever. the dog’s in the yard and kids by the hearth not so much a distant idyll any longer. a crunch of tyres on gravel track, squeals as children run to meet the man we all four adore. and what’s on the set? fleet foxes.
we’ve j.tillman to thank for these guys. for introducing us to their manager, the utterly beautiful and delightfully talented aja. fleet foxes shouldn’t be able to sound like they do, since by all accounts these songs have been basking in the low evening sun in southern california for the past forty years.
fleet foxes are the all enveloping harmonies of crosby stills and nash, the soporific, rolling timpani of sunflower-era beach boys and that late winter sunshine which fractures into swollen beads of light on a camera’s lens. they’re northern european folk stories, snow shoes and moonshine. they’re heart broken times-a-changing, the music that robertson, manuel, hudson, danko and helm didn’t get onto acetate and a book of british birds.
i’m more than a little bit in love with this band and it won’t be long till you are too. go listen to more on their myspace page until they release a record for you to chart a new period of your life by.