Fleet Foxes – Hammersmith Apollo, London 02/06/2011

I was told recently by someone at Brighton’s The Great Escape Festival – albeit at 4am in the morning and after the consumption of a not inconsiderable amount of alcohol – that however good the new Fleet Foxes album was, he just couldn’t listen to it, because he innately blamed the band for opening the gates to the phenomenon that is now Mumford and Sons. However vodka-blurred and unreasonable this statement may have been, it’s fairly representative of how a lot of people now feel about the insurgence of folk which has found it’s way into the mainstream in the last few years, Fleet Foxes included.

This mentality is something I’m pondering as we file into the Hammersmith Apollo. Watching as the exceedingly normal-record-buying-public looking members of the audience shuffle around (the impressive beards you might have expected have largely been left to those on stage, who, to be fair, pretty much make up for the whole 5000 strong crowd, in this respect). I’m also not sure just how well the band are going to be able to put across their complex sound live, especially in a space as big as this. Cynicism is definitely creeping in.

Before they begin to play, the band stand close together, six men, dwarfed by the huge stage, peering out nervously at the immense audience in front of them. The intricate guitars of ‘The Cascades’ begin to diffuse through the room and for a minute or so, I’m still not sure. That cynicism is insisting that they may be able to pull off this soft, delicateness, but once it comes to the richness of their more interesting material, they won’t be so strong.

Cynicism is wrong. By the time they’re about half way through their second song – a rousing and powerful rendition of ‘Grown Ocean’ – I just couldn’t care less what people think about mainstream folk: this is wonderful.

For a start, the vocal harmonies which permeate most of the songs, are astounding, much more so than on the record. Coming in three, sometimes four parts, the voices echo beautifully through the room, complementing each other perfectly. But really, it’s the raw intensity which the band bring to ‘Your Protector’, and the bedrock of strength lying beneath the penetrating lyrical power of ‘Battery Kinzie’, which is the most unexpectedly impressive, and made all the more satisfying by Josh Tillman’s resonant drumming.

Of course, it doesn’t get any more visually interesting. There’s a few flashy lights, but they don’t exactly put on a visually enthralling show, and it’s pretty easy to find your eyes vacantly gazing at the roadies as they run back and forward over the stage – ant like – with mandolins and violins, a saxophone, flutes and endless types of guitar, rather than at the band members. But this lack of visuals doesn’t seem to matter much. The fervent, unexpectedly full sound, juxtaposed with the exposed vocal break downs, is captivating enough for anyone here.

Too soon, the band are leaving. But singer Robin Pecknold quickly returns for the encore, with only the soft harmonies of Josh Tillman, and the rhythm of the impassioned, clapping audience to accompany him for a stunningly intense ‘Oliver James’, which instantly becomes the highlight of the set. They finish, band now returned to the stage, with ‘Helplessness Blues’ – the title track from their new album. The track’s involved, stirring chorus, so soon after the very personal feeling of the previous song, making for a perfect ending to the night, and we’re left only to grin, and enthuse about the magnificently bizarre saxophone solo at the end of ‘The Shrine / An Argument’, into the night.

So, Fleet Foxes may have had some part in facilitating the Mumford cult, but tonight, their intoxicating performance more than makes up for it.

Photos by Sebastien Dehesdin