My beloved Jeep Comanche serves for two purposes: to get me to Oil Can Henry’s and take me to the dump. I’ve recently discovered that visiting Henry — with his free newspaper and undercarriage video — is actually almost as enjoyable an experience as going to the dump. As it happens, I take my discarded household items to the dump at the same neighborhood SAFE Boats International builds boats for the Iraqi Navy (I swear). For at least the last year, I’ve had one record in my CD player with an inoperable radio: disc one (so, both sides of LP 1) of George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass. That means that every weekend I’m in the car I have no choice but to sing along to “Wah-Wah,” “My Sweet Lord,” and “What Is Life” and pull grass clippings out from underneath my green fingernails. I have nothing original to add to the canon of praise that’s been set before it for 39 years, but just the other day I caught myself wishing that Fleet Foxes — holed up in Port Townsend working on a new record — brought a copy along with them.Their first record was pretty, and demonstrated strong harmonies and songwriting. But, everything’s pretty these days. There aren’t enough guitar solos, and not enough chances taken. If Pecknold and Co. can bring some sweaty riffs and stomped feet they’ll have me good.Chris KornelisRobin Pecknold at ReverbFest 2007Note: Mark down my fumbling of the album title as my embarrassing mistake of the day. My bad, y’all.