First came the blackout that atrophied traffic from Kingsgrove to Mascot. Then came the trespasser on the train tracks at the airport. Then came the protest outside Central, and the teeming opening night crowds at Vivid. Suffice to say, actually making it to Fleet Foxes in time was just shy of a miracle – and would go quite a way to explain the conspicuous clusters of empty seats that were scattered about the first gig of a sold-out four-night residency at that most iconic festival canvas, the Sydney Opera House.
It was hard to think of another reason, as the band’s fans were out in wide-eyed force; this was a return not to be missed. Following a quick run of warm-up shows for their Vivid cavalcade, this was, remarkably, Fleet Foxes’ fifth live date in as many years. Josh Tillman has moved on to more revered pursuits, but otherwise age has not wearied them. Robin Pecknold is singing at the peak of his game, and the rest of the band – rounded out by a lovely, understated string quartet and a suitably dramatic brass contingent – performs with such musicianship it’s like they never left the touring circuit at all.
That’s not to say that all has stayed the same. Fleet Foxes’ new material is still hallmarked by those incredible harmonies; I’m not sure they could shake that haunted garden folk sound if you put a musketoon to their heads. But Pecknold has definitely been expanding the reaches of his repertoire. New songs ushered in the night, leading with ‘Arroyo Seco’, which perhaps best bridged the gulf between then and now. Fleet Foxes are playing with overall form as much as individual song structure, and so much of their latest work segues quite effortlessly (which I’m not convinced is strictly a good thing).
But Lord, Pecknold’s voice is intimidatingly accomplished. From the searing strength of ‘The Shrine / An Argument’ (“Sunlight over me, no matter what I do,” he cried, and, goosebumps) to the more baroque structure of new songs like ‘Mearcstapa’ and the sublime ‘On Another Ocean’, the crowd was riveted. At times Pecknold would drop into a spoken-word register whose language and tone recalled Conor O’Brien from Villagers.
They seemed humble. They were charming. And ridding your head of ‘Helplessness Blues’ for the rest of the night just ain’t going to happen. Better to close your eyes, lie back, and dream of orchards and the inconceivable world outside.
Fleet Foxes played the Sydney Opera House on Friday May 26. Photo by Daniel Boud
