My favorite among the Fleet Foxes songs from the sessions recorded at the BBC’s Maida Vale studios (actually, among any of their recordings). This one has a transcendent quality; everything is still for a little while when it ends. For me, anyway.
I find myself charmed by the little inner reference to Yeats’ “The Lake Isle of Innisfree,” it’s done sweetly and without pretentiousness. There was a time when I was completely entranced by Yeats’ early poems, the more heavily scented with the faded flowers of pastoral Romanticism, the better: the hero Cuchulain, who-goes-with-Fergus, the small clay-and-wattle cabin by the lake whose waters lap in the deep heart’s core. For me, the song captures some of the lush wistfulness of those poems.