It’s after midnight in Dublin town. So it must be time for some worthy indie-folk played by anonymous Londoners. Oh dear. A Friday evening with Mumford & Sons is lovely if you’re looking for some decidedly dreary, stiff and po-faced company. It’s as if Pat Kenny never left The Late Late Show. Yes, that bad.
What your reviewer is trying to say is that this particular gig makes him feel like Jack Nicholson in the Oregon State Hospital. Seriously, it is enough to drive you around the bend. People cheer like crazy after every song. People shush other people when ‘deep’, hushed acoustic numbers are being rolled out. During one of the more ‘stirring’ numbers, there is one lone lighter held aloft, as everyone else has a natter. It sums up the evening. A limited band trying to create a memorable moment.
It’s often ill-advised to talk about musical authenticity. Kurt Cobain probably killed himself because of that. But really, this is a band that ring hollow. Under the shadow of Fleet Foxes, they have the look and sound of some English gents who discovered folk music in between hockey sessions and rowing practice. They seem like nice chaps, and wish us all a belated Happy Paddy’s Day. But they push a brand of Celtic folk that’s devoid of Celtic soul. Mumford & Sons playing to an Irish audience is a touch like selling coal to Newcastle. They are clearly accomplished musicians, and a couple of numbers are close to being genuinely good. Sadly, once Mr. Mumford takes to the drums for a while (really), their Phil Collins moment is complete.
It doesn’t help that they’ve decided they’re in the Springsteen mould, and play for yonks. The encores never end. And if you saw the Brits, they re-enact that cringey ‘we-only-have-one-microphone-let’s-have-a-session’ front of the stage bit. The only time the sentiments of band and reviewer coalesce is on the decent ‘Little Lion Man’. “I really fucked it up this time, didn‘t I my dear?”, the line goes. Maybe I’m the one who’s out of step, but either way I need a cold shower and some Fairport Convention.