Sometimes I’d like to think US music bloggers are the craftiest of the bunch worldwide.  We’ve got our ears to the field, tilted toward the vast expanses of global music of merit, right? Every now and again, and perhaps I’m simply admitting my own individual oversight, we catch wind of a noteworthy outfit that’s been soaring for sometime in other parts of the world.   London folk outfit, Mumford and Sons, represents this idea perfectly.  We caught wind of the track “Little Lion Man” way back in October of last year, but the reverberation didn’t quite hit us at the time.  Several months later, and with Sigh No More just hitting US shelves yesterday, it’s time to revisit the excellent quality and epic sound of this debut.  I say debut, but merely as denotation, because the cinematic and banjo-frenzied album is easily more mature than most debuts we hear around here.  We’re stoked to see how this translates to a broader audience.  Through each spin of the album, listeners dive into a myriad of styles and musicianship; it’s a bit twee, but not in a way that detracts from the opus-like nature of each emotionally charged track.  Mumford and Sons, to the general US listening audience, is new (although they’re selling out shows by the dozen), but they’ve been pumping life into the English airwaves for over a year.  In the span of time it has taken me to begin this review and complete it, the band has already punched their ticket for a performance at Bonnaroo and the train is rolling.  Sigh No More is nothing short of a blast of big sound, triumphant enough for just about any audience.

The band’s connection with Noah and Whale is well documented, but interestingly, the sound parachute-lands miles away from there, as, for me, Sigh No More is a mixture of chamber folk, cinematic pop, and southern blues that hits crisply and clearly with as much punch as anything I’ve heard in awhile.  Mumford and Sons has concocted an excellent formulaic approach to folk/pop anthems and they complete the equations with feverish gusto.  Tracks like “Little Lion Man” and “White Blank Page” essentially begin as ambiguous motifs that rise in intensity (and banjo frenzy) until listeners are square stuck between hoe-down and all out emotional catharsis.  This formula weaves and pulses through the album sonically in tracks like “The Cave” that at it’s onset is a simplistic finger-picked lullaby delivery that moves into multiple-part harmonies in the chorus and then into a blistering banjo jangle before it dives back and forth into higher octane speeds.  Importantly, the band never sacrifices the underlying warmth and inspirational delivery in these big opus-like tracks.  “The Cave” oohs and ahhs out in full knee-slapping finger plucking and soaring horn arrangements.  While the band occasionally moves into panty-droppers that are sure to get the gushing female applause, it’s a knock to the record’s impressive variety if a pigeonholing of their sound is allowed.  “Awake My Soul” is more a homage to Irish balladry and hearkens to their English roots.  Alternating guitar bass and high notes are plucked as the band arranges jarringly gorgeous harmonies with their pipes.  “In these bodies we will live.  In these bodies we will die.  Where you invest your love, is where you invest your life.” I’ll take that sentiment to the bank, folks.  Through a majority of the album, it’s incredibly difficult not to crank the volume and enjoy what they’re bringing to the table; excellent musicianship paired with a delicious panache for pop anthems.  This can’t be unpleasant, and it never feels so.

To me, the path that Mumford and Sons must blaze as their popularity rises in America involves the left turn they take stylistically in the peak of the record, “Thistle and Weeds.” This more brooding number wedges in at the tail end of the album and hits a melancholy mixture of piano brilliance and full on earth-shattering grandiosity.  As most of the album spins lively and energetic, this is the knee jerk reaction so delicately necessary to make this album tick.  As the band soars into the song’s final minutes, teeth clench and it’s impossible to shake the emotional draining that’s forced in just one listen.  All the musicians came to work the day this track was recorded, and if it doesn’t pop in on year end lists, people are missing the boat. Lyrically, it hits on all cylinders, as well, marking a more tense and bilious approach to the band.  As I’ve spent quite a bit of time with this album (last October), it’s the squirmy and unsettling vibe of this track that makes Mumford and Sons so slippery.  The easy route is to focus in on the cinematic arrangements, but if the band steers outward a bit more like they’ve done with “Thistle and Weeds,” they’re going to make a huge leap toward stardom.   The album just hit the US shelves yesterday, and you’re doing yourself a huge favor by snagging the record and wearing the grooves right off of it.  Enjoy “Little Lion Man” along with a couple BBC recordings (via I Am Fuel You Are Friends).

Mumford and Sons – Sigh No More (BBC Radio 1 Session)

Mumford and Sons – The Cave (BBC Radio 1 Session)

Mumford and Sons – Little Lion Man

Buy Sigh No More now at Insound!