Seattle loves Fleet Foxes

A wise man once said: "If girls come to the show and sing the lyrics, you know the band is gonna last." The idea is, where the girls go, the boys go, and when you get girls and boys together, you have a happy crowd. Judging by the gender ratio at Friday night's sold-out Fleet Foxes show at Neumo's, the Seattle quintet is in store for a very long, fruitful run. (That wise man was actually roots-rock grandpa Col. Bruce Hampton and the band he was appraising was Widespread Panic. Still, it's a good point.)

Freshly returned to the Northwest after a month on the road opening for Portland six-piece Blitzen Trapper, Fleet Foxes sounded prouder, more polished, and more confident than ever before in their young career. Their three-part harmonies melted over the crowd and held it in mesmerized silence through their 45-minute set. Much ink has already been spilled over the precocious talent of 22-year-old bandleader Robin Pecknold; it's not enough. His pristine voice and unorthodox songwriting were the music's focal points, the rest of the band — acoustic and electric guitars, bass, keys, and minimal percussion — extra shades on his palette. When he took a few solo numbers — the stunning "Oliver James," most memorably — it was as if he was the only person in the room.

Fleet Foxes played most of their unreleased, self-titled full-length album (its Internet leak has already stirred up major blog buzz) and songs from their recent EP "Sun Giant." More than traditional pop songs, songs like "White Winter Hymnal" and "Sun Giant" resemble rounds chanted around the summer campfire or in the family sedan on the way to Grandma's Thanksgiving. Lyrics referencing older brothers and calling friends by name brought fans even deeper into the band's unfolding story.

This is why Fleet Foxes are so estrogen-friendly: There are few things more intimate than a guy with an acoustic guitar pouring warm honey from his throat. Add another two voices to that sound and the product is liquid romance. A female fan handed individual roses to each musician towards the end of the set, to the visible blush of the band. It's Spring, and Seattle is in love.

Jonathan Zwickel: zwickelicious@gmail.com