Throughout the age of the music industry, numerous bands have experienced unheard of success and rapid ascent to a national level of popularity.
Though it takes an immense amount of time, effort and progression from shows at local taverns to battle of the bands events, such stardom can and has been reached.
Sometimes, the problem isn't reaching the top of the charts, but rather staying there. That is exactly what Mumford & Sons, one of the freshest and lovable bands of recent years, is trying to do. The indie folk quartet from London released its first album, "Sigh No More," in October 2009, which featured four singles of international popularity. It was also listed as one of the top albums of the year in over 10 countries.
On Nov. 2, Mumford released a new single on a local radio station in Philadelphia. The song is titled "Ghosts That We Knew," at least momentarily. Lead singer Marcus Mumford told MTV in a recent interview that, "We're not very good at deciding song names," and that the name could be shortened to "Ghosts."
Whichever way they go, the tune has been noted as a possible track on their sophomore album. The next disc has no official due date but a possible release date in the midst of February has been reported.
Mumford can be regarded as a categorical band in the sense that they rely on a few simple formulas in a great majority of their songs. On one end of the spectrum, the group will rely heavily on a smooth acoustic guitar intro with occasional banjo tidbits, leading to a powerful chorus combination of the two altogether. This remedy can be portrayed best in songs such as "Little Lion Man" and "The Cave."
In the second case, Mumford sticks with a simple acoustic melody throughout the entire song. This is the category I believe "Ghosts That We Knew" falls under. Being known as lyrical geniuses, songs such as this one truly bring out the deep and profound meanings that this group has been known to portray. Additional popular songs such as "Awake My Soul" along with "After The Storm" can be seen as similar comparisons.
This song does a good job of grabbing the listener's attention, but not by a powerful introductory riff or brief jam. Marcus Mumford's strong, persistent voice allows him to get the message across quickly, which in this instance can be inferred as ‘pain' while referring to someone else, possibly a significant other, like most songs suggest.
A very simple and basic guitar melody creates a smooth background to add to the feelings and emotions offered by Mumford. As he enters the first chorus, his voice seems to be echoed as it becomes louder and more graspable to the listener. Background singers chime in and help with the following verse, making it seem more powerful. For every chorus, another member joins in unison and takes their own stand in the song.
The banjo finally enters, finalizing a successful jam of multiple assets of instruments and offsetting, yet unified, voices.
This slow progression, both by multiple assets and instruments, helps evolve and transform the mood over the course of the song. It begins with the sense of sadness and vulnerability, but because of a continued and progressive system of addition, it becomes more positively stricken and optimistic. Marcus Mumford strategically changes the tone and magnitude of his voice, which in doing so also evokes a wide variety of possible feelings and thoughts toward the overall message of the tune.
After listening to this song numerous times today, I firmly believe that Mumford & Sons will prevail over the sophomore slump trend. Though it is undeniable that they will develop a song or two that will gain mainstream fame and regard, what truly makes an album successful is the message it gives to its listeners and its overall smooth nature.
By evidence of what this song has already accomplished, it is quite obvious that if one band is to continue to produce songs at an incredibly high and well-accepted level, it undoubtedly is Mumford & Sons.
—Easterhouse is a freshman from Evergreen Park, Ill., majoring in communications. features@thedepauw.com