Written by Jason Gottfried
Mumford and Sons: “Wilder Mind”
The Dixie Chicks went pop and pissed everyone off. Bob Dylan went electric and pissed everyone off. Green Day went Broadway and pissed everyone off. Radiohead went from being a “band” to being a consortium of computer sorcerers and pissed everyone off. David Bowie went everywhere and did everything and . . . well, everyone seems to have generally liked that.
But in 2014, Marcus Mumford, amid the kind of success most musicians would kill for, was talking about breaking up Mumford and Sons, with Winston Marshall offering subtle criticisms like, “Fuck the banjo. I fucking hate the banjo.”
The band not only survived but has blossomed anew—sans banjos. With the release of “Wilder Mind,” Mumford and Sons has traded their suspenders for leather jackets and their accordions and banjos for keyboards and electric guitars—and if you thought they were killing it before, wait until you hear this.
Sure, “Thistle and Weeds” from their debut album, “Sigh No More,” is entirely electric. So what’s the big deal?
Give “Wilder Mind” even a cursory listen; it will defy expectations. Listeners will immediately notice that it doesn’t sound like to the soundtrack to another Portlandia skit about hipsters. It could be mistaken for a Kings of Leon record. But while they’ve changed things up musically, Marcus Mumford is as sentimental a bard as ever.
“Tomkins Square Park” announces a change in the status quo by opening with electric guitar. No glaring distortion or chunky fuzz riffs—just a simple melody. By the time the chorus hits, the realization also occurs that it will be stuck in your head. Instantly singable and utterly poignant, Mumford sings that “No flame burns forever,” setting the stage for an album full of love songs, several of them poised for Top 10 radio.
“Believe” slows down but gets a little heavier, both texturally and lyrically. Mumford ponders and pleads, while drums roll and guitars soar. “The Wolf” kicks in hard, guitars flexing. At this point, there really is no gray area: Mumford and Sons is a straight-up rock band, and with the exception of Mumford’s husky crooning, this could easily be a track from Counting Crows’ “Recovering the Satellites.” Put Dave Grohl on the mic, and they could be Foo Fighters.
The title track, however, is far tamer, and Mumford’s gravelly baritone, counterpointed by a Fender Rhodes, has far more space over a driving drum beat and spacious synths more typical of Coldplay. Following “Wilder Mind” is “Just Smoke,” which derives most of its energy from soulful vocal harmonies.
“Monster” sits comfortably somewhere between Bruce Springsteen and U2, but “Snake Eyes” returns to hit single territory, building slowly but insistently. Mumford first whispers, and later declares ardently, “It’s in the eyes /
I can tell, you will always be danger,” as the band pushes insistently with dynamic abandon.
After the smoke settles, “Broad-shouldered Beasts” enters, sounding much like older Mumford and Sons, laced with subtle Celtic influences that are weaved together with impassioned, almost Gospel overtones. As if to take a break, “Cold Arms” is a simple ballad in the vein of Jeff Buckley.
“Ditmas” sounds less like some of the other songs which are indicative of a new approach. Rather, “Ditmas” seems like old Mumford and Sons with new instrumentation. Mumford’s seeming newfound—or at least improved—capacity for dynamic range shines here, one moment singing close to the mic and the next all but yelling over the din.
“Only Love” returns to the area they’ve carved out for themselves between Springsteen and Counting Crows, made unique with Mumford’s three-part harmonies. The song starts about as low as it can, but after a few verses, the organ is cranked up, the cymbals are crashing, and the tube amps are distorting through what proves to be a final, tearful fist-pumping anthem. In the wake, almost like a folk adaptation of “Chariots of Fire,” “Hot Gates” eases this album down, sinking slowly.
It’s interesting to note that Marcus Mumford’s ex, Laura Marling—a resident of the same British neo-folk scene as Mumford and Sons—also just “went electric.” And they found their sound after delving into American folk acts like Old Crow Medicine Show and Sam Bush, who themselves have adapted the bluegrass music first created by the Irish settlers of Kentucky. With this kind of transatlantic dialogue, it’s hard to argue anymore that America is the predominant cultural melting pot. At any rate, Mumford and Sons’ “Wilder Mind” is destined for worldwide radio saturation, so you’re going to hear it one way or another.
