Hi, I’m Matt! Before I get started here I just want to say that this is my first thing for The Lost Ogle and that Patrick’s a righteous dude. He’s been kind enough to lend me space on his site to goof off about local music at the expense of a well-received, extremely popular band, despite the fact that I make very little mention of hot girls. Kudos to you, Patrick.
That all said **sound of knuckles popping** this year’s Grammy Awards get dished out tomorrow and Mumford & Sons are the New York Yankees in a league that —like the MLB— favors big spenders. They’re up for a league-leading six awards (that ties them with Fun. and Frank Ocean for the year’s most nominations), including Best Americana Album for Babel, their second album and a massively popular one by the standards of acoustic, roots-styled tunes in 2012. Babel is a musically powerful if predictable record with lyrics that hold up to scrutiny about the same way soggy wheat-based breakfast cereals hold up against a garbage disposal. (Back in October I spent a LOOKatOKC column on this topic, but for a 100x smarter deconstruction of the band, check out Tom Breihan’s recent post at Stereogum.) There are admirable qualities in Mumford for sure: the pummel and volume of their live performances and their lack of fear to approach big, meaningful themes in their songwriting stand out in particular. But at the end of the day they’re still handsome, polite boys with instruments made of wood and gimmicky poems. (Who happen to have just announced a show in Guthrie, as your rustically dressed friends may have recently pointed out on your Facebook Timelines.)