Having dragged Gareth's butt to Treasure Island on Sunday, and Interpol Monday night, it was only fair that I got my not inconsiderable butt dragged to Mumford & Sons at The Warfield Wednesday night.
Depending on who you read, M&S are either a Folk band, or an Indie Folk band. Now, you can write what I know about Folk music on a Morris Dancer's cod-piece (provided he's not doing one of his silly dances at the same time). The last time I saw an actual F.O.L.K singer was (as Arthur Askey used to say), back in "nineteen hundred and frozen to death", in some converted barn near Bridgwater.
I need to digress here - the mention of Bridgwater has got me all misty-eyed and recollect-full.
I might even digress from the digression and highlight what a wonderful thing the hyphen is, allowing one to go wild with the English language.
Anyhow, Bridgwater, Somerset is the home of cider-drinkers extraordinaire, my oldest living friend (John Boyland) and possibly the best album title of all time: Half Man Half Biscuit's fabulously-named Trouble Over Bridgwater. For younger viewers, that's a play on Simon & Garfunkel's classic Bridge Over Troubled Water. HMHB are responsible for several other chuckleful plays, including Back In The DHSS, Voyage to the Bottom of the Road, Four Lads Who Shook the Wirral, Saucy Haulage Ballads, Achtung Bono, and CSI: Ambleside. Clearly, a knowledge of UK geography is essential to appreciating most of those fun titles.
Where was I? The Warfield, enjoying Mumford & Sons. They're renowned for their multi-instrumentalization (that's another non-word, whether you use a Z or an S), and sure enough they swapped instruments several times, curiously leaving the drums untouched for all but 2 of their songs.
Rarely before have I been so mystified by the intensity, the passion displayed by an audience. The Warfield was sold out, and the fans were screaming, yes - screaming for the band. And when they weren't screaming, they were shushing anyone who dared speak while the band was playing.
I say "rarely", but I guess I've seen television footage of how fans threw themselves at Elvis Presley and The Beatles, and how besotted ladies threw their underwear at Tom Jones. And I was amazed at the level of "commitment" by female fans at an R.Kelly show a few years ago. I'm not saying last night's crowd was screaming in quite the same way, but their excitement was nonetheless shocking to me.
That didn't mean I really liked it. I'm not sure whether it's old school or new school of me, but whatever it is I can't get used to the idea of a lead banjo supported by an upright bass, especially when they're trying to perform folk as though it was rock.
It's now the day after, and I still can't believe a San Francisco audience is so heavily into something like Mumford & Sons.
Rarely before have I been so mystified by the intensity, the passion displayed by an audience. The Warfield was sold out, and the fans were screaming, yes - screaming for the band. And when they weren't screaming, they were shushing anyone who dared speak while the band was playing.
I say "rarely", but I guess I've seen television footage of how fans threw themselves at Elvis Presley and The Beatles, and how besotted ladies threw their underwear at Tom Jones. And I was amazed at the level of "commitment" by female fans at an R.Kelly show a few years ago. I'm not saying last night's crowd was screaming in quite the same way, but their excitement was nonetheless shocking to me.
That didn't mean I really liked it. I'm not sure whether it's old school or new school of me, but whatever it is I can't get used to the idea of a lead banjo supported by an upright bass, especially when they're trying to perform folk as though it was rock.
It's now the day after, and I still can't believe a San Francisco audience is so heavily into something like Mumford & Sons.
2 comments:
I'll check out their stuff and let you know if they're really "folk"...
Just listened to some Mumford & Sons. I really like them too. Hmmmm. Philip turning me on to folk bands. Now what?
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