Sasquatch '09: Blitzen Trapper, Fleet Foxes

If your dad is anything like my dad-- an old Neil Young-worshipping hippie who used to be in a band-- he regularly gripes about how music sucks these days. And I humbly propose that the remedy to this tired complaint is to burn the guy a copy of Blitzen Trapper's Furr. I think the reason the band's done so well is because while their music derives its sound from all the classics all us 20-somethings grew up on-- Led Zeppelin, CSNY, the Doors, etc.-- the result has its own personality that's distinguished itself from its sonic predecessors. In a show of worship I've had yet to witness at this festival, the crowd sang along almost the whole time and went particularly apeshit for the title track from Furr, in particular. I half-expected my dad, circa 1972, to roll up rocking his yearbook Jewfro and ask me for a Zig Zag.

The most striking thing about the Fleet Foxes' idyllic late afternoon set was that Robin Pecknold played the entire show standing up. Every other time I've seen this band, he sat down to play (though admittedly, it's been a while since I've seen them live). I don't personally think it matters one whit whether he sits or stands, but it was a stylistic choice he was known for, and now he's switched things up. Sort of like his hair, which is short now. Otherwise, the Fleet Foxes played a characteristically precious set complete with "White Winter Hymnal," lots of angelic, harmonized "oooohs" and guitars played with bows while a cluster of barefoot neo-hippie chicks performed an impromptu interpretive dance (meanwhile, everyone else blazed some dro and mellowed out.)