Play List

I sat down at my computer this morning to do some basic appointment scheduling, e-mailing...the usual muck-a-muck business.  An unknown member of the family or perhaps a visitor to the house (we have many), left this surprise up and loaded, the perfect beginning to an ordinary day:

I'm old and out of touch with the current music scene.  Even in the days when I was young I was out of touch with the current music scene.  If it didn't make its way to my car radio, I probably didn't even know it existed.  With advanced age and ever more distraction, I am even less in tune.  But every once in a while some tolerant young person introduces me to a little known gem that makes me happy to share their musical universe.  Mumford and Sons are such a gem.

Young enough to be my own sons, they are old enough to see the world with brave new eyes, wise enough to reflect upon what they see, daring enough to share the vision, poetic enough to make it sing.

Hailing from England, this new Fab Four is making its way around the world, living out their dream of "...[making] music that matters without taking themselves too seriously."  That's tough to do:  create something of import, of power, of substance, all the while never getting too big for one's britches.

Readers, photographers, culinary wizards--it doesn't hurt that these young men have numerous interests and passions, all of which fuel their music and make them guys you'd want to hang out with.  Shakespeare and Steinbeck come easy to their tongues, they manage an on-line book club that includes allusions to G.K. Chesterton.  Find me an American English major who's made his/her way through G.K., and I'll buy you a Diet Coke.

They aren't afraid to acknowledge the dark, because they are so vibrantly aware of the light, as they challenge the most basic human fear of dying in "After the Storm".  I'm loving the fact that even when alone, cold, soaked to the bone, the singer refuses to keep his eyes on the ground:

And after the storm,

I run and run as the rains come
And I look up, I look up,
on my knees and out of luck,
I look up.
 

And then, a reminder that life is full of one paradox after another, that perhaps it was thus designed in order for us to be jarred out of complacency long enough to notice, to appreciate:

Night has always pushed up day
You must know life to see decay
But I won't rot, I won't rot
Not this mind and not this heart,
I won't rot.

Now, to the heart of the song, to the deepest most personal fear shared by all humans:

I will die alone and be left there.
Well I guess I'll just go home,
Oh God knows where.
Because death is just so full and mine so small.
Well I'm scared of what's behind and what's before.

Bottom line--they make music.   Bottom line--they aren't afraid of the tough stuff of life, but they never forget the good.  


It's poetry, sure, poetry that sings with soul played by troubadours who aren't afraid to let themselves be overcome--overcome with sorrow, overcome with joy.