Live Review: Fleet Foxes

After a five-year hiatus, Fleet Foxes return. Their third album, Crack-Up, drops in a matter of weeks, and judging from the new material liberally applied to their setlist, it's dense, almost capricious songwriting that reflects a group wilfully pushing off from safe mooring.

The golden harmonies remain, but, perhaps with the loss and replacement of Josh Tillman, they've consciously shifted the focus away from vocals, dropped the hooks, freed up the melodies, and added layer upon layer of instrumentation. The results are prismatic and exhilarating. Tonally, the band has rebuilt itself. It's a trip, and when played side by side with their older material, the difference is startling.

Crack-Up opener I Am All That I Need/Arroyo Seco/Thumbprint Scar, a six-minute opus of strings and cascading melodies fighting for attention, was first. Soaring three-part harmonies had to muscle through the wall of noise. Two more new tracks followed, Cassius and Naiads, Cassius. Great songs — if a little obtuse — but, predictably, it was only when they reached White Winter Hymnal that the crowd really responded. That, then moving through Ragged Wood into Your Protector, was worth the ticket price alone for many. Stylishly executed and handsomely rewarded, it was a gold medal run.

Among the new material, Fool's Errand and Third Of May/Ōdaigahara stood out, the latter being a sprawling wonder, full of evocative imagery and bravura. The extended encore saw Robin Pecknold perform Tiger Mountain Peasant Song, a Bee Gees cover (In The Morning), and a full-throated version of Drops In The River, a throwback to simpler times. Closing with Helplessness Blues rounded off a thrilling experience. The band challenged us. This marks the beginning of a fascinating arc in their career.