Banjo and grace

LINDSAY MAST, HOST: Today is Wednesday, April 16th.

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Good morning. I’m Lindsay Mast.

MYRNA BROWN, HOST: And I’m Myrna Brown.

Coming next on The World and Everything in It: The English-American folk outfit Mumford & Sons are back with their fifth studio album, Rushmere. It’s their first since 2018.

It’s been even longer since the banjo featured prominently in the band’s music. Now it’s making a return as well.

MAST: So where’s it been all these years? WORLD Associate Correspondent Trevor Sides says that answer requires something of a parable.

TREVOR SIDES: In 2012, Mumford & Sons were one of the most beloved bands in the world. They released their sophomore album, Babel, which debuted at number 1 on both the U.S. Billboard and UK Albums charts. It won the Album of the Year at the Grammys. Babel is all about that banjo. The same cannot be said of the other top-selling albums that year—by Adele, Taylor Swift, and One Direction. You tell me. Does this sound like your typical pop megastar?

The entire Mumford & Sons experience is there in “I Will Wait.” It’s worth noting that lead singer Marcus Mumford grew up in the church—the son of Vineyard church planters. In 2022 he summed up the band’s vibe, saying, “We might take you to church—but we’ll also take you to the fair.”

That description fits the broader 2010s folk resurgence, as well. Mumford & Sons served as the elder statesmen of this movement and cut a swath for a whole bunch of other bow-tie-clad startups to get in on the fun.

And what did Mumford & Sons do with this cultural momentum? They demanded their share of the indie-folk inheritance and squandered it like a younger brother on reckless living in a far country. In their next two albums, they plugged in to electric guitars and synthesizers, scorning the banjo for the cool acceptance of critics and peers.

Consider 2015’s “Believe.” We are a long way from home—spiritually, esthetically, and instrumentally.

The wandering further manifested itself in Mumford’s 2022 solo album. In that project he opened up about being sexually abused as a child and his struggles with addiction.

Now, with Rushmere, it seems that Mumford & Sons are seeking shelter in grace. A prodigal kind of grace that’s lavish enough to overcome trauma, doubt, and unbelief.

That’s “Malibu,” the opening track. Christians may hear imagery from the Psalms and the book of Ruth. But given Mumford's reluctance to identify as a Christian, it’s fair to ask who the “you” is. Is it God? The fans? The banjo? It’s a fun way to think of the band’s arc: the genre-chasing prodigals have rediscovered their musical faith because the banjo abounded in steadfast love.

So, yes, on one level, Rushmere is a parable about wandering from and returning to one’s musical roots. And as Rushmere progresses, it’s hard not to hear it as a testimony of spiritual pilgrimage back home as well.

Home is first a place. Rushmere is the name of a pond in the neighborhood where the bandmates first met. Much of the album’s recording took place in the American south. This helps explain the banjo’s rebirth as well as the bluesy flavor of the fifth track, “Truth.” Here, the band finds freedom to plug in without fleeing their musical roots.

Home is also holy ground, a truth Mumford captures in “Monochrome.” This soil is teeming with resurrection:

There’s a realization in “Monochrome” that our self-defined paths end in emptiness. In the second verse, Mumford goes for more Biblical imagery, delivering this line with a lived-in vulnerability.

But this emptiness is its own kind of grace—a gift that leads to, well, surrender. That’s the title of another track, a folk praise song about reconstruction.

The one possible fly in this narrative ointment is the album’s finale, “Carry On.” Mumford seems to revel in being, in his words, “unholy,” “lost,” “empty,” and “adrift.” He bristles at orthodoxy, confusing it for hypocrisy.

Okay, maybe he’s not ready to surrender everything. Of course he isn’t. Stories of deconstruction and reconstruction are never neat or linear.

Still, the bridge on “Malibu” connects past, present, and future. For the band, and possibly for a generation of souls who wandered from their faith. For anyone contemplating the valleys God has walked with them. And how all they ever wanted was to find peace in the shadow of His wings.

This is the power of grace. And the banjo.

For WORLD, I’m Trevor Sides.

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