Forget what Marcus Mumford and his (non-biological) sons
said about Babel: the three-year wait
was not in pursuit of perfection. Quite simply suffering from a bad case of
Second Album Syndrome, the London-based quartet toured relentlessly on the wave
of success that followed 2009’s debut, Sigh
No More. With their distinctive folk-tinged campfire-pop sound on the iPods
of millions worldwide, the prospect of crafting a worthy follow-up was always
ominously daunting. How do you progress
from such an unexpectedly triumphant LP? Here, Mumford & Sons have chosen
not to progress at all.
Like
its predecessor, Babel is a 12-track
collection of sing-along anthems dressed, like the band members themselves, in
rustic waistcoats and tweed. Built for
the live stage, each song is destined for the countless festival appearances
the group will inevitably play next year. A hoedown here, a crowd-spanning
clap-a-thon there; Babel will
dominate muddy fields everywhere in 2013.
In
truth, there’s good reason for that: there are several moments of unashamed
quality here. Lead single ‘I Will Wait’ is a Mumford-by-numbers classic in the
making, and is already a fan favourite. The same can be said of ‘Lover of the
Light’, an ever-building rouser with a truly euphoric climax. There is no
palpably weak song, making this album every bit as consistent as the debut.
There’s
a problem, though, and a pretty significant one at that. Babel is so formulaic, so lacking in anything new or interesting,
that one wonders whether there will be a place for the smartly-adorned
collective come album three. Mumford have dipped into the same bag of tricks as
they did for Sigh No More, forgetting
the fact that we all know how it’s done now; the magic is no longer apparent.
You get the banjo-mandolin combination in almost every song. Sometimes the strings and horns come in. Crescendos
abound (‘Lover of the Light’, ‘Below My Feet’). Just as in ‘Little Lion Man’,
there’s a choral ‘Harr-arr-arr’ or three (‘Holland Road’). Thankfully, they frequently
resist the urge for a collective ‘Hey!’ where many would succumb. Still,
‘Reminder’ bears striking similarities to SNM’s
‘Timshel’ (incidentally, both are track 8s), and ‘Broken Crown’ is just a
reworked version of ‘Thistle & Weeds’. There is a lack of musical
invention; the initially pleasant ‘Hopeless Wanderer’, for example, is ruined
by a sudden injection of bland and somewhat violent guitar-strumming. Hardly
spokesmen for subtlety, at times the band seem one bar of rapid strumming away
from a cardiac arrest.
Thematically,
the lyrics have not changed either. Rural and biblical references are abundant.
Marcus croons on ‘Whispers in the Dark’: ‘Spare my sins for the ark… I set out
to serve the Lord’. His proclivity for free will and choice, apparent
previously in ‘Timshel’, continues in ‘Broken Crown’: ‘in this twilight, our
choices seal our fate.’ There is certainly a character and admirable purity to
these lyrics, regardless of their dubious authenticity.
At a
basic level, Babel is a thoroughly
enjoyable album. Fans will adore it, and the live shows will certainly benefit
hugely from it. However, one has to question the potential longevity of a group
who seem intent on sticking so rigidly to formula. With Babel, Mumford & Sons have rather predictably pulled a rabbit
out of the hat. Sure, it’s a cute enough rabbit, but it’s a rabbit all the
same.
6/10
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