Send "Mumford & Sons " Ringtones to your Cell 
| Musicomh |
 Everyone knows what happens to the average human being when the brain isn't fully engaged. It's not so dissimilar to being drunk. Emotions overcome common sense, meaningful words seem illusive and most other words are fluffed. And actions have a cruel way of betraying true feelings. No, there's nothing particularly sophisticated about the average heart-on-sleeve soul. And there's nothing particularly sophisticated about Sigh No More either. But it doesn't seem to matter that much. While Mumford And Sons may not excel as urbane, multi-dimensional songsmiths, they succeed by virtue of their sheer, unabashed wholeheartedness. And theirs is a wholehearted sound too. Bringing together virtually all of folk's sub-genres, Mumford And Sons share The Low Anthem's predilection for tradition both in terms of instrumentation - there's everything here from ukeleles to trumpets - and recording and production. This is the kind of record that's likely to sound similarly raucous when played live. Moreover, it's the type of music that sounds like it involves a bustling band of 20, but in reality involves a far smaller number - four in this case - of talented multi-instrumentalists. And as the album flits from the rousing Celtic-influenced skiffle of Roll Away Your Stone to the busker-folk of Little Lion Man and on to the pastoral gospel-bluegrass sound of Timshel, it's Marcus Mumford's pleasant, if not spectacular, voice and unaffected words that keeps the the album from becoming a disjointed folk compilation. During Thistle & Weeds, Mumford screams "I will hooold ooon!" with plenty of heartfelt gusto but, unfortunately, not quite the same striking effect of, say, a Damien Rice....full text |
| Nme |
| The problem of authenticity in folk is as old as the Appalachians. Ever since masters of the form were plucked from under rocks and corralled into chic NYC café venues for the edification of right-on students in the early ’60s, folk has signalled something desirable yet tantalisingly out-of-reach for fed-up inhabitants of the lonesome, crowded west. Mumford and Sons might sound like the name of a defunct timber supply yard you were sworn off playing around by your mum as a nipper, but in fact it’s the ongoing concern of four young fellows from London; a name that fixes the band in a long tradition of ramblin’, gamblin’ truth-tellers with guitars, and proudly announces authenticity shot through their spindly frames like sticks of rock. All of which is complete bollocks, of course. They’re no more authentic than my dog is a communist triple agent. is also descriptive of a certain passion and heartfelt attention to detail which could be about to serve Marcus Mumford and his merry band of cohorts mighty well indeed....full text |
| Guardian |
| It is quite obviously a Good Thing that the centre of gravity of young British guitar music seems to be shifting. Where 18 months ago there was a new "landfill indie" album every other week, now it's new, young British folk-pop groups offering debut albums with metronomic regularity. Mumford & Sons spring from the same agglomeration of musicians that has already bequeathed us Laura Marling and Noah and the Whale, and are by all accounts a delightfully rowdy and passionate live band. Why, then, does their album feel just a little bit too polite? Even when the songs - as they invariably do - cut loose into the hoedown section, with bluegrass banjo underpinning acoustic guitars, strings and horns, there's the sense they are holding back. Maybe that's also what causes Sigh No More to sound a little generic: though everything here is pleasing, there's no single "Wow!" moment. Still, it's a promising start, and once Marcus Mumford develops the storytelling skills of US counterparts such as the Low Anthem, there will surely be better to come....full text |
Mumford & Sons lyrics
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