Morning:
10°c
A hazy Sunday, a crowd held in rapt devotion, four solemn voices coiling into harmonic shapes that could only have been crafted by the Almighty.
Even without the astonishing array of preacherly beards - the Ezekiel; the Dostoevsky; the Beelzebub - the Fleet Foxes' performance at the Roundhouse felt more like an act of worship than a rock'*'roll gig.
When, after a particularly heartbreaking solo turn, the lead singer Robin Pecknold gazed into the middle distance and gesticulated in an upwards motion, my wife turned to me and wondered: "Is he pointing towards God?"
"I think he's asking the sound man to turn his guitar up," I replied. But actually, what did I know?
There's a definite religious bent to the bands that are striking a chord right now. The Kings of Leon, newly crowned best international band at the Brit Awards, supposedly grew up as the children of a travelling evangelist and still milk the story to add to their mystique. Arcade Fire earned the unofficial title of the best live act in the world with a show that is positively pentecostal. Then there is that nagging rumour that Bono is actually Christ himself, but I was unable to confirm or deny this at the time of writing.
I daresay about 80 per cent of the Fleet Foxes crowd would not be seen dead in a church. A devotion to indie music tends to go hand in hand with a disregard for religion; when hotly tipped American band Cold War Kids revealed they were born-again Christians a couple of years ago, they immediately lost half of their fanbase.
It comes down to how you style it - when the five members of Fleet Foxes chant in unison "You run with the devil", as if they are engaged in some collective act of will to shut out Satan through sheer selfless sincerity, the Roundhouse was hushed into silence.
London can seem a pretty unholy place most of the time. On the way home from the gig I came inches from being brained by a bendy bus, and, I confess, I felt little consolation that the would-be instrument of my death had the words "There's probably no god. Now stop worrying and enjoy life" written on the side of it. Is it any wonder that we now seek out that affirmative, communal experience that religion once provided in concert halls and stadia?
Mind you, I'm not sure how to explain the boisterous section of the crowd who persistently asked the band to play something from High School Musical. Perhaps that's just the indie form of speaking in tongues.
Fleet Foxes are at the Roundhouse tonight (0844 482 8008). Returns only.
