fleet foxes

I was following the pack
all swallowed in their coats
with scarves of red tied ’round their throats
to keep their little heads
from fallin’ in the snow
And I turned ’round and there you go
And, Michael, you would fall
and turn the white snow red as strawberries
in the summertime

I had never heard of Fleet Foxes before the end of this year. As magazines start wrapping up the year, we are inundated with “Best Of” lists that regularly skew towards the indie/pop category. On almost every list I read, Fleet Foxes was perched at or near the top. A quick YouTube search later and I am madly in love. The beat is something I imagine I would hear in the Smokey Mountains, country-sounding in a way that makes it catchy and classic at the same time. If someone had told me this was from the 1950’s I wouldn’t have any problem believing it. I have never wanted to analyze a song more than this one. Conformity brought about a bloody end? A rant against consumerism? Who the hell is Michael, and did he lose his scarf (i.e. head)? “White Winter Hymnal” is disturbing in its repetition and imagery; every word is purposeful and, with only nine lines and a less than 3min running time, packs more of a punch than most songs.