At the risk of breaking my leg to jump on the bandwagon of the emerging buzz, you can go ahead and mark me down as a fan of Seattle’s Fleet Foxes.

Their show on March 2 at Modified was enough to convince me to buy the Sun Giant EP and about five plays of that in 24 hours was enough to convince me to sign my fan-club card.

The tipping point probably came when singer Robin Pecknold opted to sit at the front of the stage, sans microphone, to sing Oliver James, a gorgeous tune that will be on their full-length Ragged Wood, due out in the summer on Sub Pop. His voice has surprising power and undeniable warmth.

So this must be the part where the inevitable Crosby, Stills & Nash comparisons go. And I guess there’s something to it. There’s definitely a certain, well, ’70s spirit to the sound – but they’re not hippies, damn it. But, you know, I didn’t really grow up listening to my dad’s Crosby, Stills & Nash records (Cat Stevens and Willie Nelson is more like it), so it seems irresponsible of me to make the comparison. (Hey, I just believe whatever Pitchfork tells me.)

I do know this: Fleet Foxes are further proof of the power of the beard.

• Fleet Foxes | Mykonos