IN REVIEW: Marcus Mumford - (self-titled)

 

Born out of a simple desire to "reconnect with (his) songwriting muscles" during Covid lockdowns, the debut solo record by Marcus Mumford turned into something much more meaningful as it took shape. Through the process of creating (self-titled), Mumford uncovered and explored childhood trauma, ultimately deciding to use the album as a means by which to talk about what had been suppressed. This makes the stark opening track Cannibal much more harrowing, Mumford seething at his abuser and acknowledging that, as difficult as it may be, speaking openly about it is necessary to begin healing.

This thread runs throughout (self-titled), as following track Grace addresses the revelations of abuse to Mumford's mother; even with its difficult subject matter, though, the bombastic production by Blake Mills allows the song to embody the catharsis that comes with unburdening one's soul. It's a sound that reflects Mumford's words as he struggles to navigate the healing process, and it's the album's most strikingly cathartic moment.

As the album progresses, so does this process; Prior Warning grapples with the fear of hurting the ones we love with this harrowing information under a tasteful, subdued instrumental, while Better Off High glides on a percussive, muted melody that only explodes briefly on its chorus as Mumford goes a little more cryptic but admits the role his trauma has played in his substance abuse. This is followed by the sparse, acoustic Only Child, which reads like Mumford dealing with the aftermath of the revelation as it pertains to his relationship.

On the second half, (self-titled) continues to tell the story of Mumford's process but opens itself sonically through added instrumentation and guest appearances; Clairo shows up on the shadowy Dangerous Game, while Better Angels goes for a fuller-sounded band approach, resulting in perhaps the closest thing we get to a full-bodied rock song on the album (especially in its post-chorus cacophony). Monica Martin harmonizes on the gospel-tinged Go in Light, while Phoebe Bridgers lends some haunted harmonies to penultimate track Stonecatcher, a sullen song that allows for a little despair to creep in (hardest hitting lyric: "all we can hope is that we suffer well") before the gentle, Brandi Carlile-assisted closer How; here, Mumford lands on empathy and forgiveness, after all of the trauma and strife, referencing previous songs' lyrics throughout as an attempt to give the story an ending, even as both Mumford and the listener know the scars will last a lifetime. It's an emotional, gripping ending to what's been a difficult listening experience.

To be sure, there's precious little here that will remind anyone of Little Lion Man or I Will Wait; as alluded to, the bulk of these arrangements are sparse and intimate, often putting the listener in the stark solitude of the trauma with Mumford. In this way, it's a masterfully created experience, even if it's admittedly not consistently engaging from a musical standpoint. Likewise, with an emotional backdrop such as this, (self-titled) is obviously a record that spends a substantial amount of time in the doldrums; so as to say, while there is at least a modicum of closure, getting there can be a rough slog for anyone not to mention those who have been victims themselves. That said, though it's not perfect in execution, (self-titled) was clearly a very difficult, emotional and important record to make, and I truly applaud Marcus Mumford for overcoming his fears and sharing his troubling story with the world. 

September 16, 2022 • Capitol

Highlights Grace • Better Angels • How