The Weekly Coos

It has been a rocky time since Mumford & Sons released 2018’s Delta, particularly due to the departure of right-wing-pilled bandmate Winston Marshall. This alignment didn’t fit the band’s identity, leading to an understandable split. Marcus Mumford launched his solo debut, which was raw and emotionally resonant, despite the final product being somewhat tepid. However, when the band announced the album on Instagram with the caption “the most prolific two years we’ve ever had,” I felt excitement growing as a fan, especially knowing Marcus Mumford would be more emotionally open. I wasn’t a fan of Delta due to their shift toward a more pop-oriented sound with more synths than in their previous album. This change jolted me as a fan; although there was still an essence of who they were, it didn’t resonate as powerfully as Babel did back in 2013. Fortunately, Rushmere, their newest album, marks a return to form. By that, I mean it features the indie folk, Americana, and arena rock elements that made them a fantastic band to listen to. They don’t shy away from reflecting on what made them great, particularly in the production, where, with the help of Dave Cobb, they weave a tapestry of folk bliss.

Mumford & Sons deliver with the opening track, “Malibu,” which shifts from a more ballad-like sound to the amplified folk production of its second half. It encompasses an element that feels homely to fans expecting something different from Delta. Rushmere is an album that took me back to my adolescence in New York City. I listened to Babel on repeat with all the wonder and gloss in my eyes from dreaming of a brighter future. Though the final product isn’t the perfection I found in Babel, it does enough to keep the lasso tight and pull me in, especially as the following tracks come through with sheer force. They aren’t emphatically loud like you’d expect from Arena Rock, but their instrumental influence is heavily potent, as seen in the title song. Others are less so and are more keen on the simplicity of folk arrangements to enhance the depth of emotional weight conveyed through the writing. It isn’t perfect, and the album seems to lose momentum after the first three songs, but this lingering view of identity is pushed to the forefront significantly. It makes the listening experience smoother, despite retaining the feeling of wanting more.

The album’s production is nimble and direct, but doesn’t stand out like the writing. Judged by the performances, the highs are relatively high, though they wane due to slight homogenization of sounds midway through, which can wear you out on ballads. It happened to me slightly, but it picks up momentum again as “Surrender” comes along. It is a triumphant surprise with its emphatic string arrangements at the end, transitioning from a softer, slower tempo in the first half. “Carry On” closes the album, and it’s as good a closer as ever. Most of the album has a slower tempo and minimizes instrumentation to enhance the raw emotions deriving from ballad and ballad-infused tracks. Transitioning from their duet with Madison Cunningham, a parallel is heard in which the first and last three have beautiful fluidity. This encapsulates what feels like a return to form, which was missed as the band seemed to be discovering new lanes that weren’t all clicking. That isn’t to say I dislike songs like “Picture You” off Delta, but there is something inherent in their strengths when it comes to tracks like “Slip Away” and “Beloved” off the same album, but when you grasp what they do with “Monochrome” off Rushmere, you sense the difference.

Rushmere isn’t perfect; this is a fact. However, it brings a sense of wonder and virtuosity that evokes memories of yesteryears, especially for fans who feel that the poppiness of Delta is lacking. It’s an album that stands firm on its laurels, ensuring you never hear weakness in the writing or instrumentation. Unfortunately, not all tracks hit hard, but it has an opening trifecta and a strong closing that elevate it beyond the mold. It makes the journey more fulfilling; even when a track like “Anchor” feels too catered to the old, it is not as interesting as “Where It Belongs,” which uses minimalism more beautifully. “Anchor” and “Truth” are the only duds that barely push the threshold of creativity compared to how the album opens. Mumford and Sons sound more revitalized, and it shows through a solid release that gives us more than enough tunes to keep on repeat. Fans will like this more than non-fans, or so I assume. It’s quality enough for new listeners to get what I’ve been writing about. I’m a big fan, but that doesn’t dissuade me from writing in a biased manner. Hope you get a kick out of this like I did.