EDITORS’ NOTES

Amid the frenetic pace of 21st-century digital living, Fleet Foxes’ debut album serves as a tranquil woodland retreat where time slows to a crawl. But the group trade cabin-in-the-woods solitude for widescreen, canyon-filling grandeur. When they lock into choir-like formation on “White Winter Hymnal” and “He Doesn’t Know Why,” they effectively resemble a landlocked Beach Boys, with the surfboards and soda pops replaced by chopped logs and cans of beans cooked on an open flame.