Mumford & Sons are back again.
Their new studio album, Rushmere, marks the end of the band’s seven-year hiatus. That period that saw their band partially split up, a global pandemic, and social and political changes in their native England.
Named after a local pond in southwest London where the band would hang out in their early days, Rushmere hits the center of the nostalgia and memory bullseye that folk and rock music often aim for.
Across the album, lead vocalist Marcus Mumford blends cloaked references to Christianity with bold depictions of hypocrisy and deceit.
Rushmere is not so much a return to form for the band. Rather it is an attempt to redefine their signature existentialism in a fresh package of folk songs unafraid of ongoing doubt and questions.
What does it mean to love after loss?
When should you surrender?
What is your anchor in life?
How can you keep carrying on when nothing seems to go your way?
Nearly 20 years into the band’s existence, they’re still circling the same tension between spiritual longing and worldly desires. Rushmere’s questions continue to pepper listeners with thoughtful attempts to make sense of this world’s unceasing confusion and pain. Always wondering if redemption will win out in the end.
Marcus Mumford is clearly a reflective and thoughtful writer. Rushmere’s 10 songs focuses on themes of broken relationships, searching for truth, and theological questions.
“Surrender” shows Mumford’s realization that growth is needed in a relationship before moving on. He sings, “Break me down and put me back together/I surrender, I surrender now/And hold me in the promise of forever.” He has experienced the pain of noncommittal love and is now ready to make a lasting promise born out of forgiveness.
Later, on “Anchor,” a winking reference to a symbolic nautical anchor serves as a backdrop for personal and spiritual relationships. “But now I know I’ve got to know myself/Know I’m the one that needed help.” He later sings, “I can’t say I’m sorry if I’m always on the run/From the anchor.”
“Carry On” contains the most direct references to Christianity as Mumford grapples with the effects of original sin. He sings, “I will take this darkness/Over any light you cast/You and all your original sin/Carry on.” Even though Mumford’s theology is at best murky, the attempt is admirable. To wrestle with what it means to be human and broken reveals a man willing to confront the pain of this world to receive a greater reward in eternity.
“Malibu” portrays a relationship in which the pair “walk through the valley” together. Mumford sings, “You’re all I want/You’re all I need/And I’ll find peace beneath the shadow of your wings.” For the thoughtful Christian, these lyrics echo of a relationship with God, though it’s difficult to tell whether this is Mumford’s intention.
“Blood On the Page” features a duet with rising country star Madison Cunningham in which two lovers question their fidelity. Ultimately, the pair ends up realizing that “I will not lie” and “You would not lie” even though they can admit “There’s blood on that page/I am in over my head.” It’s a startling portrait of how chaos and pain can be overcome through mutual truth and trust.
For all of their reflection and spiritual longing, Mumford & Sons possesses a duality. The other side of the Mumford coin is vindictive, retributive, and at times, hopeless in its pursuit of truth and meaning.
“Where It Belongs” features a rotating list of threatening rhetorical questions aimed at an absent former love. Mumford fires away asking questions such as “Are you really gone?” and “Do you ever think of living wildly/let your anger go to h—/Where it belongs?”
“Caroline” shows the cracks in a relationship that’s on its last legs. Mumford sings, “Break this glass and make a scene again/I know that’s what you want.” It’s a relationship that has “words you write that have lost all of their meaning.” And later, he compares the state of their relationship to an emptying drink of alcohol in singing, “You wanna pour me out then drink me up off of the floor.”
“Rushmere” compares the restlessness of not knowing what’s next in life to being wasted or drunk. Mumford sings, “Well light me up, I’m wasted in the dark/Rushmere, restless hearts in the end.”
“Monochrome” continues the drinking: “The kind of love I am always chasing/Is the kind of love that won’t be chased/I had no fear at the bottom of my cup/But now it’s dry, I am afraid.”
“Truth” contains a passing reference to gambling away life’s outcomes by comparing making decisions to throwing dice.
It’d be simple to conclude that Rushmere’s strongest moments double down on the band’s trademark sound and then add your favorite songs to another folk playlist.
But I think that outcome would miss the point of a Mumford & Sons album. And while I can’t say for certain, I’d guess Marcus Mumford would agree.
On the title song, Mumford poses a question: “Don’t you miss the breathlessness/The wildness in the eye?” At the forefront of each song are lyrics like this, dense with religious imagery, shattered emotions, and relatable experiences.
Over a decade removed from an album centered on the image of the Tower of Babel, Mumford & Sons find themselves still wrestling with what it means to live a meaningful life in the midst of the world’s idols.
Rushmere reveals they still haven’t found that answer. Though they may be a bit closer to surrendering. In doing so, they just might discover the true anchor that lasts beyond any worldly relationship.
Listening to Mumford & Sons’ journey and honest reflections can be effective in sharpening our own ability to mirror honesty. Though to spend too much time in a world of doubt could unintentionally aid in the deterioration of the very faith we seek.
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.
