Fleet Foxes/Dutchess and the Duke @ The Cat

July 9, 2008 by Aaron  Send to a Friend

all photos: Faith Desired
NPR live stream: right here (featuring photos by Joel)
live MP3s coming at you later today: Shawn Breen

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No need for introductions here. You must have gotten the memo by now. We love them, you love them, Pitchfork loves them, so all of western society now loves them. They are the fine gentleman of Fleet Foxes, folks, and they’re coming soon to a town near you.

There’s been a lot of talk of Kool-Aid drinking and buying into the alleged “hype” of this band. Thankfully, this was an occasion where several folks gave up on resisting their base impulses and surrendered their hyper-critical approach to all things that are good. This acceptance made the show a sell-out. Radical, dudes. For those of us who were lucky enough to witness this performance, ’twas radical indeed. And maybe not so much radical in a literal sense, but certainly in a figurative one.

The night comprised of two acts that pay musical tribute to their forefathers without being entirely indebted to them. Two groups that recognize certain timeless and, one might say classic, elements within modern popular song-writing which they’ve adopted, reinterpreted, and reinvigorated through their own musical vessels.

The Dutchess and the Duke - The name itself serves as an appropriate receptacle for their referential and nostalgia-tinged minimalist and wry folk-rock. Nostalgic in its style and lyrical content, the music borrowed chord structures reminiscent of The Animals or early Leonard Cohen tunes, and complimented those structures with country-twanged harmonies similar to Linda Rondstadt or Townes Van Zandt’s live recordings.

Looking like a modern day Peter, Paul, and Mary, Du & Du incorporate 2 bespectacled dudes, a brunette, a 12 string Epiphone/6-string shooter, and a tambourine/floor tom setup to pump out some roots-rock ballads about seemingly post-modern but entirely genuine conundrums. Wistful and eerie love songs at their core, these post-punk-folkers make their singing a musical focal point and let their trebly guitar permutations follow behind.

After months of waiting for this show (that time-frame is not overblown or dramatic), after hearing about how amazing they were, after being regaled with stories about the spiritual fulfillment of those who’ve attended the concert, I must say I was a bit excited.

The show was sold out. NPR was broadcasting live. Sure, through the magic of the intranets, hype has a tendency to steamroll into an avalanche, and I tried to keep my expectations under wrap about sharing an evening with a young band sure to be one of the most-acclaimed new groups of the year. None of that mental preparation seemed to matter much as the plaid-clad “we’re not hippies” hippies took the stage Monday evening and knocked me over with their first punch.

Kicking off their set with the a cappella “Sun Giant,” the harmonies immediately hit me hard, like a mack truck that gives you full body chills. I looked around and saw raised arm hair everywhere. I was not prepared for the sheer magnitude and complexity of their choral structure. Moving quickly into “Sun Rises,” one realizes how absurdly powerful and emotive lead singer Robin Pecknold’s voice truly is. Although often compared to Jim James from My Morning Jacket, the arrangements of the full Foxes’ band find every member contributing fully. Each of the parts bear as much of the weight as the whole.

Each song felt like a journey. Not only through the descriptive lyrical content, but following along the nooks and crannies of each dynamic shift, each harmonic interweave. Every voice forged a path, and to follow the charted course of one or all of them yielded benefits untold. Trudging carefully and patiently through “White Winter Hymnal,” “Ragged Wood,” “Your Protector,” and “He Doesn’t Know Why,” the men of Fleet held the crowd captive, akin to mythic sirens.

Battling a bout of sickness, frontman Pecknold repeatedly apologized for “faking it through the set.” Most fortunate about the success of this band, is the fact that the members seem truly and genuinely to be good dudes. Each song ended with Pecknold’s smiling, appreciative and almost surprised face thanking the packed house through a continued nervous nod. And when the band left their “lead” singer for a few of the most affecting songs to sing solo, the performances of “Oliver James” and the closer “Tiger Mountain Peasant Song” brought such a response that Mr. P seemed almost embarassed by the amount of attention.

Much has been written about the Foxes’ inspirations and their return to constructing hyper-focused and multi-layered harmonies, a craft that several assume was left to musical groups of yesteryear. But to witness the performance of these complex, beautiful, and often awe-inspiring interlaced vocal works served as a reminder of our tendency to overlook the tangible and entirely contemporary beauty of the present.
I felt Fleet Foxes would want us to marinate on that.

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