#1 Album: Fleet Foxes – Helplessness Blues

In the spring of 2011, the stakes appeared to be set impossibly high for Fleet Foxes. Their debut LP was a massive critical and popular success that shot them into the upper echelon of indie stardom almost overnight; the three years Robin Pecknold & Co. spent crafting the followup through an arduous process of writing, scrapping, and rewriting only heightened anticipations. A sophomore slump seemed all but certain.

That’s exactly what Helplessness Blues would have been if Fleet Foxes had decided to turn out a repeat performance or to sidestep musically. Instead, Pecknold underwent a remarkable creative transformation, from a bearded dude crooning about meadowlarks to a full-fledged singer-songwriter with something meaningful to say and a meaningful way to say it. As a result, this album represents both a giant creative leap forward and a throwback to the classic works of great 1970’s singer-songwriters.

In Pecknold’s case, Paul Simon’s output with Simon & Garfunkel is an obvious touchstone; both share a distinctly boyish vocal timbre and grapple with similar themes of being frustrated by love, feeling old at 25, and contemplating one’s very existence. The difference between the two is that Pecknold doesn’t obscure his disillusions with overly wrought metaphors or ruminations of whether the theater is really dead. As a result, simple lines like “I don’t know who to believe” come across as sincere and relatable rather than preachy.

In addition to Pecknold’s emergence as a gifted singer-songwriter, the band as a whole has developed nicely. Full-throated harmonies abound (after all, this is still a Fleet Foxes album) but are complemented by darker instrumental passages and quieter moments of introspection that make for a more dynamic listen. Additionally, these musical shifts provide the perfect backdrop as Pecknold walks the fine line between innocence and cynicism.

Helplessness Blues certainly isn’t the most innovative or boundary-pushing release of the year, but those kinds of things hardly matter in the long run. What does matter is that when I look back at my young adulthood, these twelve songs will mean just as much to me as they do now.

By Peter Gill

#1 Song: M83 – “Midnight City”

It‰’s hard to write about “Midnight City‰” without using hyperbolic claims (“BEST OUTRO EVER‰” or “THE CITY IS MY CHURCH‰Û), but in a way, that sums up what this song is about: awe-inspiring wonder. Amongst a sprawling double-album full of fantastic tracks, “Midnight City‰” stands out as it throws one musical peak at you after another.

The song begins with its now instantly familiar synth riff, before unfolding into a straight-up enormous anthem. Meanwhile, Gonzalez‰’s vocal delivery is perfect: subdued and at times even slurred, but explosive and cathartic at all the right moments -just listen how “waiting in a car‰” turns into “WAITING! IN A CAR!‰” over the course of the song. And then, that sax solo hits. Dear God, that sax solo‰Û_ I started this paragraph saying I wouldn‰’t make grand or hyperbolic statements, but the saxophone outro makes that fairly hard to do.

Instead, I point you in the direction of the recent live performance of this song on “Late Night.‰Û Watch how the band reacts when the solo hits; there is no self-conscious posing, and no arms are crossed. Instead, everyone is lost in that musical moment, grooving and dancing away on national television. On a song that could fill up stadiums with its sound, it is that moment where even the people in the nosebleed sections would be losing their minds.

By Cameron Meindl

Editor’s Note: It’s been a blast counting down WVAU’s favorite music this year! A big thanks to all our fantastic contributors: Alex Rudolph, Jesse Paller, Louise Brask, Leo Zausen, Maxwell Tani, Richard Murphy, Sharon Din, Sean Meehan, Kevin Kunitake, Brian Waligorski, Austin Ryan, Jesse Drucker, Peter Gill, Cameron Meindl, Mike Creedon and Cassie Wiegmann.