Voice of the Year: Fleet Foxes' Robin Pecknold

Photograph by Clare Shilland

While not unprecedented (see Gram Parsons, Neil Young, Jim James), Pecknold's pipes invariably invoke trees-and-mountains imagery, all seemingly unique to Fleet Foxes' home turf. That unmistakable sense of place -- along with some sneakily sophisticated arrangements -- is a big part of what makes their songs so evocative. It's hard to listen to Pecknold murmur and wail about shivering dogs and frozen rivers without also thinking about the Pacific Northwest -- about Douglas firs and percolator coffee and, of course, impenetrable tangles of facial hair.

"Robin's beard is all his own, and I'm sure with every touring day it gets knottier and more fragrant," says fellow rustic songsmith Daniel Rossen of Grizzly Bear and Department of Eagles, who first met Pecknold at a potluck last summer (Pecknold brought a plate of homemade vegetable pakora). "I'd certainly hope people would pay attention to him even if he shaved it off and dropped all that plaid for a nice tracksuit."

Pecknold says that nature isn't an intentional theme in his songs. "When I was writing those lyrics, I had just come home from this really long trip with my brother and sister," he explains. "It was a total REI granola trip, just wandering around. But it doesn't mean that the next thing is going to have that same feeling. It wasn't a conscious choice, like, 'Let's be a nature band!' "

Fleet Foxes are perhaps most beloved for their golden harmonies (Pecknold mews alongside bassist Christian Wargo, drummer Josh Tillman, and keyboardist Casey Wescott, while guitarist Skye Skjelset smiles silently), which pull from a variety of vocal traditions. But Fleet Foxes' layered, textured vocals never feel exclusionary. Instead, their harmonies recall the intimacy of early secular music and are reminiscent, in particular, of Sacred Harp (or shape-note) singing, a gospel style that allows every member of a congregation -- even those who can't read music or don't possess the strongest singing voice -- to join in tunefully. It's an inclusive and deliberately straightforward style, and a departure from the histrionic, finger-waving song theater heralded by American Idol. "Those [Sacred Harp] songs are so simple," Pecknold says. "It's all very easy to understand."

The openness of his writing invites massive, campfire-style sing-alongs, and even if you're not much of a singer, it's not difficult to figure out how to howl along: "I think the beauty of a band like Fleet Foxes lies in their ability to make accessible some musical ideas that would otherwise escape a mass audience, and it's Robin's voice that reels the listener in," Rossen says. "He can fill the room with his voice alone."

Pecknold willingly acknowledges that Fleet Foxes might be part of a new community of like-minded, oft-hirsute folk artists -- from his Sub Pop labelmates Iron and Wine, Band of Horses, Death Vessel, and Fruit Bats to emerging acts like Bon Iver, Grizzly Bear, and Horse Feathers -- even if its members aren't united by place. "Music has become a lot less regional," he says. "But I can listen to new music now, like Vetiver or Department of Eagles, that I'm really excited about, which wasn't always the case four years ago."

He pauses. "I don't have to feel like an old man anymore."