Sometimes life is a triumph. Other times it resembles a fight. To Mumford & Sons, both are worth it…as long as you are honest about how you got there.
Mumford & Sons has chased fame for nearly two decades. Their early music often cut through the tumultuous parts of life and found fans who shared complicated relationships with love and loss.
The band’s penchant for finger-plucking folk rock filled with swollen emotions quickly defined an essential era of stomp-and-holler music. Their formula often relied on lead singer Marcus Mumford’s uncanny ability to locate relatable pain while wrestling through life’s highs and lows.
On Prizefighter, the band continues its exploration and enlists powerhouse help from Gracie Abrams, Hozier, and Chris Stapleton.
Mumford revealed he invented the character of a “prizefighter” to allow his writing to go to undiscovered places. A cursory listen through Prizefighter reveals a litany of unanswerable questions.
Mumford asks the following: “Is this all there is?” and “How could she throw me away?” and “Is this not enough for you?”
Guided by a complex connection to Christianity, Mumford & Sons’ questioning on Prizefighter rotates between relational and personal woes. In keeping with their previous work, asking these questions attempts to uncover the depths of their longing for peace.
Prizefighter contains a throughline of perseverance. Despite ongoing failures, Mumford & Sons offer alternative options for how to respond when faced with those setbacks.
“The Banjo Song” puts Mumford’s struggle simply, saying, “I’m a mess myself but I think I could be someone.” In Mumford’s view, there’s hope in admission as long as it leads to change.
“Conversation with My Son (Gangsters and Angels)” slides through slippery discussions of the afterlife as Mumford reflects on his mistakes while acknowledging a second chance. He encourages his son to, “Reach across again, Here’s where heaven starts, I end where you begin …”
On “Rubber Band Man” Mumford and Hozier meander and wonder if it’s better to be flexible in love or deal with the consequences of refusing to change. They eventually opt for becoming the rubber-band version of themselves so they can answer the question, “If nothing lasts forever, babe/Then can we make a start?”
“Alleycat” reveals Mumford relying on his lover to help him out his despair as he sings, “I was in pieces then/Till you put me back together.”
“Here” gives Mumford a chance to offer up his “pride and shame” in an attempt to start new again.
“Run Together” continues the theme as he sings, “When we run, we run together/When we’re apart, we fall apart/I will love you now and ever.”
On album opener “Here,” Mumford lays bare his regrettable decisions and worldly success in one gigantic throat clearing before moving on to deeper reflections. He vaguely references troubling images such as, “my gun and my blade” as well as “a substance that I crave.”
“The Banjo Song” encourages moving forward and repairing relationships sometimes through questionable means: “Tell a lie…Burn a bridge/It’ll be alright.”
“Prizefighter” shows Mumford at his lowest as he grapples with a former lover’s new relationship while dwelling on his past. He sings, “You should’ve seen me in my glory/In my cups, I was on fire.” Before concluding, “But I should just stay put ‘til you’re good.”
“Begin Again” contains a reference to Mumford’s father’s profession as a church leader in the U.K. He sings, “Don’t carry your father’s sins more than you can take/I swear there’s another way” referencing an alternative to Christianity he is pursuing.
Mumford and Grace Abrams fashion “Bandlands” after a Bonnie & Clyde-esque getaway from a doomed life. They sing, “Running away from a tame life/Running away like a wild child.”
On “Icarus,” Mumford invokes the Greek myth of a doomed boy falling from the sky as he gets too close to the sun. Refitting Icarus’ gamble for a relationship, he sings, “Thought I’d take my chances…I was burned by morning/I got too close to the sun.”
“Stay” contains a reference to someone having “a blade to their skin.”
“At the end of the day when I’m broken and beat/Here I am complete.” Prizefighter’s closing song, “Clover” traces the edges of despair while offering a sliver of hope within the carnage.
Mumford & Sons has never shied away from that sense of brokenness. The members’ shared internal crises so often appear in ongoing relational strife and desperation for something to change.
What has changed on Prizefighter is Mumford’s delivery of these messages.
Each time you might expect a song to explode into a holler, Mumford pulls back. By comparison to signature Mumford & Sons songs, this collection is muted and muffled, choosing to go quiet when expected to go loud.
Prizefighter’s eagerness to enter the quiet moments prompts a different type of reflection. Notably, this is the first Mumford & Sons album without profanity or direct references to harsh styles of living so often characterized in their work. Yet, the album also lacks a central religious symbol on which Mumford typically seesaws back and forth.
Make of those observations what you will.
Though it is clear that the band’s long-wrought journey continues a commitment to vulnerability and honesty. In doing so, the group encourages listeners to similarly plumb the depths of despair and the highs of hope. Where those reflections lead is where the real fighting begins.
Jackson Greer is a High School English Teacher in the suburbs of Texas. He lives in Coppell, Texas with his wife, Clara. They love debating whether or not to get another cat and reading poetry together. Also, he is a former employee of Focus on the Family’s Parenting Department.
