F is for...

Fleet Foxes

When I and my ex-housemate were in training for the London Marathon (which seems a life time ago now), one of our training runs was at Silverstone race course for a 1/2 marathon, which you can read about here.

To get there we rented a car and drove the 75 miles or so up the motorway; it was a fun day out. On the way there, and back, we listened almost exclusively to the Fleet Foxes debut album to the point where now, whenever I hear Ragged Wood, or Sun it Rises, or any tracks from that album I can conjure up, or at least recall dimly, the sensation of that day. Hurtling down the motorway in the early morning sun, the sky a sharp blue, the air fresh with the mixture of spring warmth and chill, or later, sitting in the stationary car with the sun pouring in as we waited to enter the car parks, sitting in a traffic jam on the motorway heading back home, and the rest.

It's fascinating that music can become so synonymous with a situation or location that for days, months and even years after you only have to hear a line, a certain guitar intro, a piano fill, and you can be instantly transported back to another time, another place.