THERE was the second album syndrome to overcome and, more specifically for neo-folk messiahs Mumford & Sons, the not inconsiderable added burden of attempting to follow up a high-selling and highly decorated debut release and having to record between an unrelenting tour schedule.
If 2009’s Grammy-nominated, Brit Award-scooping Sigh No More exploded like a multicoloured rocket, Babel is something of a damp squib, a Roman candle that draws a few oohs and aahs but ultimately fails to soar to any great heights. The portents were promising.
I Will Wait, the album’s first single release, ignited the touchpaper of hope with its banjo and tambourine-driven bonhomie, infectious hooks and rousing finish. The opening title song is a sparkler, too, the track’s raw intensity adroitly balanced by two stripped back interludes. Marcus Mumford’s tender crooning of “know my weakness, know my voice” is genuinely touching.
Other lines in Babel introduce an agenda of biblical overtones. Satanic undercurrents swirl in Whispers in the Dark, another acoustic wall of sound punctuated by quieter passages, as Mumford spits out: “But a brush with the devil can clear your mind, strengthen your spine.”
After the catchy I Will Wait fades, a predominantly drum and embellishment-free set takes a repetitive turn, with one track sounding much like the next in structure and melody. The rot, or rather rut, starts when a quiet guitar and piano arpeggio intro to Holland Road gives way to an acoustic tsunami that’s reminiscent of the Pogues and the irrepressible Shane MacGowan in their heyday, before steadying for a comparatively sedate outro.
It’s a pattern that recurs ad nauseam until Not with Haste brings Babel to an anticlimactic conclusion. Hopeless Wanderer defines the album’s tone sonically, with frenetic banjo, mandolin and guitar strums spinning into an amorphous final wash. There are aspects of Babel to admire.
Ghosts that we Knew builds impressively from a simple fingerpick. Lover of the Light, Below My Feet and Lovers’ Eyes respectively use distorted banjo, grungy electric guitar and multitracked vocals to effect. The best thing said about Marcus Mumford’s solo excursion, Reminder, in which the leader accompanies himself with a rudimentary acoustic guitar strum, is that it is short.
Master M might have backed Dylan at the Grammy Awards, but rhymes such as, “So watch the world tear us apart / A stoic mind and a bleeding heart, Touch my mouth and hold my tongue / I’ll never be your chosen one” and “Keep the earth below my feet / From my sweat my blood runs weak” are unlikely to have His Bobness looking over his shoulder. Nor indeed Rhymin’ Simon, who, on the deluxe edition of Babel, backs young Mumford on a decidedly lacklustre bonus rendition of The Boxer.
Marcus Mumford faces a steep climb if he is to reach the lyrical peak of Paul Simon’s masterpiece.
Source: theaustralian.com.au
