Well, it's a little late considering the shortlist of nominees for the controversial Mercury Prize was announced last week -- but I did my teeny weeny bit for the folk'ing fantastic Laura Marling a few months ago and now feel it's time for me to fly the flag for this glorious lot. Mumford and Sons.Again, my musical vocabulary is somewhat wanting, but their debut album, 'Sigh No More,' is delicious. Believe the hype. Curl up with it, rewind and listen again and let it wash over you in all of its toe tapping glory. As my brother recommended them to me, my mind leapt to awkward country themed discos, clutching a sweaty Smirnoff Ice as my scuffed boots (NONSENSE. ARMY BOOTS ARE PRACTICALLY THE SAME, DARLING) and wilting cowboy hat navigated gingerly through grubby straw and leering, chubby hands. But those first, haunting notes, simple sweet lyrics and that voice that's both gravel and chocolate left all that behind.
A white blank page
and a swelling rage,
You did not think
when you sent me
to the brink,
You desired my attention
but denied my affections,
They. Are. The. Shit.
Not particularly eloquent, but sometimes there's just no point beating about the bush. Truly, buy the album. Listen to it. Then listen to it again. It doesn't get old, or tired, or dull. If anything, frankly, it gets better. I can't decide if I even want them to win the Mercury award. (Not many have escaped the aftermath of the poisoned chalice.) But I do want them, music snob that I am, to explode into the modern musical consciousness. To be recognised and celebrated for their talent. To not be resigned to the bargain bin at HMV or, God forbid, themed dances.
Besides, not just anyone can make a banjo sexy.
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