As his band return with a new album, Fleet Foxes' Robin Pecknold talks to Andy Gill
Who are tomorrow's Arctic Monkeys, or even the next xx? Elisa Bray trawls the indie labels to seek out the best up-and-coming young talent
If you can't win an Oscar then gracing the cover of your school's magazine is surely the next best thing. Such is the source of an unlikely spat between Dom Joly and Christopher Nolan, whose new movie, Inception, comes out next week. At a panel debate with some fellow comics to launch the Sky Movies Comic Book season, Joly made an impassioned case for Nolan's Batman Begins as the best of all Batman movies. Just one caveat: he and Nolan both attended the prestigious Haileybury School in Hertfordshire. To Joly's chagrin, Nolan has replaced him as the school mag's favourite alumnus. "I'm gutted," he said. "I used to be the most famous from the school; they were always putting me on the front of the magazine. Not anymore." Joly's claims seem almost plausible until one consults Wikipedia: other Old Haileyburians include Prime Minister Clement Attlee and the incumbent minister of state responsible for policing and criminal justice, Nick Herbert.
Jangly? Check. Beardy? Check. Harmonies? Check. Shirts? Checked. It's easy to see why this London-based six-piece are being hailed "the British Fleet Foxes".
To say that J Tillman is the drummer in the Fleet Foxes is like saying that Michael Jackson sang with the Jackson 5 – it's true but it tells only half the story.
I'm a very slow reader. I read every paragraph twice. I've just finished reading David Kynaston's 'Austerity Britain: 1945-1951'. It's a blockbuster history of Britain. I just read a couple of new books about the English Civil War by David Clark and Blair Worden.
A new breed fly the Union flag
The music industry might be struggling for sales, but the UK's shrewdest small record labels flourish. We should all celebrate Independents Day, says Elisa Bray
As Bruce Springsteen heads for Worthy Farm, Blur reunite and Doves aim for great heights, this year’s festival season offers the perfect recession antidote. Ben Walsh is our guide
I went to see Fleet Foxes; that was great. I've been listening to MGMT and also a TV on the Radio song, "Family Tree".
Beardy orchestral folk-rock best listened to in front of a crackling log fire... it would be all too easy to dismiss Calgary's Woodpigeon as just another band looking to infiltrate Fleet Foxes' den.
Coldplay and Duffy were the headliners, with four nominations each.
The Junction in Cambridge is a nondescript venue: a white box, plonked in the middle of a retail park surrounded by gaudy chain restaurants, overlooked by a terrifying giant snowman. This is all that Fleet Foxes – Seattle's greatest musical export since you-know-who – will see of the city, but they're probably too exhausted to care, having already completed a dozen or so dates on their sold-out UK tour. Backstage in a dressing-room, marvelling at the hundreds of penis drawings on the walls, lead singer and songwriter Robin Pecknold sighs long and hard.
I'm re-reading Elizabeth Taylor; A Game of Hide and Seek, The Soul of Kindness and now Angel. Barack Obama's The Audacity of Hope. I've been halfway through Daniel Deronda since August 2007.
Nostalgic hippie ruralism and an aura of wilful mystery surround Fleet Foxes. James McNair tries to work out what makes them tick
'Mojo' has already declared them "America's next great band", so it's difficult to know what to add to the welter of positive press that has greeted Seattle's Fleet Foxes since their lovely 'Sun Giant' EP.