Fleet Foxes – Shore | Album Review

I hate to start a review off with an “I told you so,” but… I called it. Back in 2017, I wrote about Fleet Foxes’ then-recent album Crack-up and awarded it the accolade of “Album I Feel Like I Will Adore In A Few Years.” At that time, even after dozens of listens, I was still lukewarm on the band’s third album, but I could tell there was something about the collection of songs that hadn’t yet revealed itself to me. Now, three years later, I can unequivocally say that I was correct, and Crack-Up sits alongside the band’s first two records for me as part of a pristine trifecta of classic folk albums. 

Back in 2017, just two months after the release of Crack-up, Fleet Foxes lead singer Robin Pecknold posted a photo of a mic along with the cryptic caption of “IV x 'XX,” implying their fourth release was already in the works. While I (and many other indieheads) hypothesized the band would pull a Future / Hndrxx on us, that quick succession of releases never came to fruition back in 2017. 

I tucked that Instagram post away in my brain, and that’s partially why the surprise announcement of an imminent Fleet Foxes album back in September wasn’t too shocking for me. While I love a good surprise release, I’d been waiting for (and anticipating) this record for nearly three years, so in a way, this was the one thing in 2020 I have actually been prepared for. While Shore is a fantastic collection of more autumnal-flavored Fleet Foxes songs, I left my first listen (and second listen, and almost every subsequent listen) severely underwhelmed. 

There are a few possible culprits for this disappointment (one of them surely being three years of build-up and anticipation), but I’m genuinely hoping this isn’t just an “okay” album. I’m writing this as a way of grappling with my thoughts and criticisms because Fleet Foxes are very near and dear to me, yet this album feels distant and emotionally unattainable. I’m hoping this is just a case of history repeating itself the same way that I came around Crack-up, but some glaring holes on this record lead me to believe it will have a more challenging time growing on me. 

Once again, don’t get me wrong, I like Shore quite a bit; there are some all-time great Fleet Foxes tracks in here, however, the first word that comes to mind when describing the album would be “flavorless.” When I finish the record, I find myself having quite enjoyed it, but I also couldn’t tell you more than any two specific moments from the 54 minutes of music I had just taken in. This is hard as a long-time fan, and (from my perspective) negatively impacts the band’s legacy only because their discography to this point was near-perfect. So as of right now, Shore feels more like a fresh bruise that’s tarnishing a once-pristine record. 

Part of this comes down to seasonality. I’m someone who already tends to project ancillary layers onto an album’s release: the time of year, my mental state, my recent experiences, random information about the band, etc. So when a band like Fleet Foxes goes out of their way to put out an album on the first day of autumn, I’d naturally assume that it’s their “fall” album with a big capital F and a trail of vibrant, crunchy leaves in-tow. 

While Fleet Foxes felt like a mossy (and occasionally snow-covered) post-winter campground, Helplessness Blues felt like an energetic hike under blue skies on the first day of spring. Meanwhile, Crack-up felt very much like a “peak summer” album, a record that encapsulates the sweltering days, the scattered feelings, and the rust-covered death rattles of August. While the band’s other albums evoke such strong seasonal feelings in me (both projected and intended), Shore is just… there.

The funny thing is, for the most part, the release dates of these albums line up with those feelings I just described. And the band made such a big presentation out of Shore premiering on the autumnal equinox (down to the minute), I expected this record would have been a bit more… cozy? Ultimately, Shore is about as cozy and welcoming as any other Fleet Foxes record, but it does not feel particularly ~fall~ to me. 

The second (and bigger) issue with Shore is the songs. The album opens fantastically with “Wading In Waist-High Water,” a brilliant and picturesque welcome party helmed by a guest singer Uwade Akhere. From there, the band transitions seamlessly into “Sunblind,” a fast-paced piano-adorned track with some attention-grabbing builds and swirling, ethereal background vocals. The band then hits us with “Can I Believe You,” a towering anthem with a chorus that makes you wanna belt and a melody that becomes catchy within a matter of seconds. The decision to launch straight into the chorus on this song is not lost on me because it might be the best the band has ever written. 

Everything is trending upward at this point in the tracklist; three songs deep, and they’ve all been hits that sound unlike anything the band has done before. On my first listen, I found myself thinking, ‘this might be the best Fleet Foxes record of all time,’ then the whole thing comes crashing down. I’ll admit I’m being overly-dramatic because the record never really dips below a “pleasant listen,” but the problem is that it also never reaches the peaks of these early songs ever again. 

“Jara” is “Helplessness Blues”-light, and it’s here where the record begins to feel like Fleet Foxes merely going through the motions. “Featherweight” finds Pecknold stuck in his high register as Moon Shaped Pool keys dance and twinkle around him… though not to a particularly compelling end. Frustratingly, “A Long Way To The Past” has an almost identical chord progression to “Can I Believe You,” which, coming only three tracks later, just makes me want to rewind to that song so I can hear a better version of this instrumental. I am literally able to sing “can I believe you” over the first few seconds of this song, and it fits perfectly. It’s bizarre. 

Aside from these by-the-numbers tracks, there are too many slow songs that don’t arrive at a satisfying emotional payoff. “For A Week or Two” is a slow, plodding piano ballad, and “I’m Not My Season” just kind of unfurls and lays there. Again, neither of these songs bad, they just don’t grab me like any other Fleet Foxes ballad ever has. I feel no connection to the lyrics, the instrumentals are bare, and they don’t even end in a cool way; they just kind of slowly stop as if the band is putting themselves to sleep. 

Fleet Foxes also echo some of their folky indie rock contemporaries later in the tracklist. “Going-to-the-sun Road” has some incredible 22, A Million-like hornwork and an instrumental where restraint pays off because the group finally lets another instrument shine. Meanwhile, “Cradling Mother, Cradling Woman” is cool and should appeal to me because it sounds exactly like something off Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois, but ends up feeling not very Fleet Foxes because of it. 

The band undeniably sticks the landing on “Shore,” an ultimate slow build a-la “Blue Spotted Tail” or even “Innocent Son,” where Pecknold gently guides the listener with the softest, most precious singing he can muster. Accompanied by a piano, Pecknold is eventually joined by other instruments as the track builds to one bright and uplifting swell as if forming a heavenly procession. It’s stark, it’s haunting, and it’s beautiful, but aside from sending us off on a lovely note, this song doesn’t pull enough weight to persuade me that the album as a whole is complete. 

So Shore starts strong and ends strong, but maaaan those songs in the middle drag. They blur together, they plod along, and they leave me wanting anything else. By the time the album wraps up, I’m left remembering two things: the chorus to“Can I Believe You” and the subversion of expectations opening with a guest vocalist. Shore is Fleet Foxes, that’s for sure; it’s laid-back, choral, and woody… but it almost feels as if it’s only those things. I see none of the innovative, jaw-dropping arrangements found on Fleet Foxes, I see none of the conceptuality or ambition deployed on Helplessness Blues, and I see none of the experimentation or subtlety used on Crack-up. 

Shore is inoffensive; it could soundtrack afternoon book readings, long drives through the mountains, and Instagram-ready millennial brunches. Shore does not command attention, it does not linger with you, and it does not breakthrough. Perhaps most disappointing of all, unlike Crack-up, I feel as if there’s not nearly as much to dig into on this record, so I don’t even have the same confidence or optimism that Shore will “reveal itself” to me in time.

Shore is a Fleet Foxes album, which means it’s a solid listen and a compelling folk album at the very least. But Shore is also a Fleet Foxes album, which means I come into it expecting nothing less than the stellar songwriting and instrumentation found up to this point throughout their decade-plus career. This record isn’t bad, it’s just disappointing and straightforward. It’s only bad in the context of Fleet Foxes, and that makes me disappointed. Shore feels like Fleet Foxes for the sake of Fleet Foxes, and sadly, that’s not reason enough to exist.