The band’s first self-titled album came into my possession and never was set aside. Song after song I found myself getting lost in the vocals of Robin Pecknold while the band harmonized, creating this frenzy of folk sound that never really followed any true pattern. It’s like Crosby, Still, Nash and Young had a love child with the Grateful Dead. And, let’s just face it, who would complain about that offspring?

Fleet Foxes’ second album, “Helplessness Blues” was released in May and remained in my iTunes without any plays for quite some time. You see, I knew this story all too well. Fleet Foxes was my Woody from “Toy Story”. I grew so close, shared so many moments, felt like nothing could possibly top this connection. This second album would soon be Buzz and I just wasn’t ready to accept that. But I did.

I became addicted. My life was in song. Everything I experienced sounded like that album. Each step I took was in time with Joshua Tillman’s powerful pulse on the drums during “Sim Sala Bim.” The wind whipped the freshly fallen leaves of autumn around my dancing body during the chorus of “Lorelai.” My life was confined in the picturesque world of a snow globe as the hands of Fleet Foxes tipped it upside down.

And as much as I hated this vision I’d become, singing and gallivanting down the street like one of those damn dancing kids from “Glee,” I just couldn’t contain myself.

Fleet Foxes is just that good.