So we went to Fleet Foxes on Saturday night, and they were incredible. It's not often that you get to see a band live and the vocals are as good (or, as in this case, even better) than they are recorded; at the risk of sounding a hundred years old, it was a treat. Maybe I am closer to a hundred than I think though; Vincent and I complained all the way home (until we realised how we sounded, and shut ourselves up with pies) about the passengers who talked all through the gig (if you've been to anything at the Town Hall, renowned for its acoustics, you'll know why this was so maddening) and were obviously there because it was something they'd heard advertised on b, and were really just waiting for it to be over so they could start saying they went. Philistines. I wanted to yell that at them but didn't want to ruin the atmosphere any more, or further add to the drink fumes (to which Vincent and I had already contributed more than our share, which was also why we missed Tiny Ruins). We didn't hear a Beach Boys cover, which Vincent was rooting for, but everything we heard was so beautiful it really didn't matter. All of them have wonderful voices (and Joshua Tillman's drumming was totally brilliant), but what really sticks with me is the beauty and purity of Robin Pecknold's voice. My favourite parts of the show were when he sang alone with his guitar under a cloudy spotlight; it was like being able to see Plato's forms for myself. I still don't know if I completely agree with what Schopenhauer said about music and art, but hearing Robin sing made a pretty convincing argument. Mojo made Fleet Foxes first album an instant classic, and on the strength of that alone, I bought it. I wasn't sure at first; I liked it, but I wasn't head over heels as I was when I bought Bon Iver the month before. But Mojo. They know what they're doing. Fleet Foxes are completely original; both albums and their LP are frequent plays on our iPod, and live, they really couldn't have been better. If they come to your city, you have to go.
Tonight we have Beirut. There's less at stake, as they're not a favourite, but I really hope they become one. My favourite of their songs is one I've posted before, but Vincent found this very good cover by Florence & The Machine, so I'm posting it again. I might have a dent on my forehead where the dentist leaned on the plastic glasses I had to wear while she gave me two more fillings this morning, but with Beirut tonight and Ahipara on Wednesday, I feel very lucky indeed. Happy Monday, mi amigos!