Banter Theatre #104040
It is kind of remarkable to imagine this man, Marcus Mumford, and of course, this band of his not so-Sons as they are now. Not that the music is a shade less lovely and well-crafted and genuine, but you can see that their stagecraft has developed a thousandfold. They’ve become a band that can play Glastonbury, can play an arena, can play anywhere and with anyone and still make you feel it in your gut all the way at the top of the rows, back of the hall.
“Music reviewers are fucking assholes,” he says, and I’m so glad that as bothered and annoyed and pained as he sounds about the first blush critical reception of Sigh No More - which had just been completed (and gave way to a Grammy nomination and the critical esteem of so many music reviewers and fans), they just kept gigging and learning and being themselves. Though, in this instance, you do want to give them all a hug and say, "I’m from the future where your music owns my soul, and your album is beloved by millions, so don’t be upset.“
And then Winston cracks some inaudible jokes to distract Marcus. +I Gave You All