IN REVIEW: Mumford & Sons - "Wilder Mind"

It must have been difficult for Mumford & Sons to be the flag bearers for a new generation of folk, watching a new band aping their style pop out of the woodwork for every royalty cheque they received. Whether rebelling against the over saturation of their genre, growing tired of the music themselves or a combination of these plus any amount of unseen forces, their third album finds them stubbornly abandoning pretty much everything that made them unique.

Make no mistake, they don't need to explain why they came to this decision, and they're well within their rights. It's just a little baffling why a band as renowned for their aesthetic as Mumford & Sons would take a sudden about face into generic stadium rock. Banjos and acoustics are jettisoned for electric guitars and full drum kits, while the fiery and impassioned performances that served as the base for Sigh No More and Babel find themselves dulled considerably.

A handful of tracks act as the exception: The Wolf is the most intense and effective rocker, one that makes you believe (if only for about four minutes) that the transition to full-on rock band was a good idea. Elsewhere, Ditmas is a lively, well written tune with a big, crunchy chorus that should evoke plenty of boisterous sing-alongs on the festival circuit, and album opener Tompkins Square Park incorporates a moody production into a new wavey, puslating rhythm.

The problem with Wilder Mind is its glut of lifeless, middle-of-the-road lite rock fare. Believe, which comes off a bit lukewarm in its Coldplay-sized ambitions, is arguably the best of the bunch. The album's middle section, from its title track (and most obvious nod to The National, from which Aaron Dessner serves here as co-producer) through the sparse Cold Arms six songs later, eats up half the album with a run of take-it-or-leave-it songs that rarely rise above a moody rumble. Cold Arms actually serves as a microcosm of sorts as to what ails Wilder Mind; it uses an electric guitar in exactly the same way an acoustic would have (and should have) been used, had they not been barred from the premises. In its current form it's not awful, but it's hard not to think that it would have felt more genuine as an acoustic number.

While there are no out-and-out terrible songs on Wilder Mind, there's also precious little that jumps out of the speakers and, by surrendering the things that made them special and separating themselves from the dozens of like-minded neo-folk bands, Mumford & Sons spend the majority of the record sounding like hundreds of like-minded indie and lite rock bands instead. It's like a high end restaurant replacing their wine list with Pepsi.

Maybe in time this band will truly develop into an exciting rock band, and I'll look back on this review and wonder why the hell I was so hard on them. For the moment, it all smacks of a band that saw their window closing and ultimately decided to bail on the scene they helped create and go after that sweet, sweet Rock Festival Money. Wilder Mind doesn't sound like a natural progression, nor a sincere attempt at something new, but rather a somewhat contrived, wholly unremarkable record.

May 5, 2015 • Glassnote

Highlights Tompkins Square Park • The Wolf • Ditmas