Wednesday, March 7, 2012

mumford & voms

Last night's Mumford & Sons concert at the Ryman was not exactly what I expected, but will not be erased from my memory for quite some time....for better or for worse.  We trapsed in with the most assorted fans ever: frat bros and elderly people and 4-year-olds [Tangent: BTW- how pissed would you be if you didn't get a ticket to a sold out show because a toddler got it. Yeah, I know. That kid is much cooler than I ever was.] My favorite were the Mumfordians (?) who decided to dress like the band:

I couldn't even count the number of bow ties, vests, suspenders, pork pie hats and Dapper Dan hairdos that graced the pews of the Ryman last night. [Tangent: My fella, who sometimes dresses like a dandy anyway, said he consciously avoided these items when getting dressed because he didn't wanna look like "that guy." I respect him all the more for this decision.] It was unsettling. Jamie kinda thought they were hoping to understudy, like maybe if something went down...someone would tap them on the shoulder and say, "hey kid, now's your time to shine."  My theory was that maybe they were the band...and that they would scurry down out of the audience and musically take the stage, kinda like the beginning of CATS. None of these theories proved correct; besides, the band wasn't even dressed very Mumfordly. How embarrassing for those people!

The show was something I have been extremely excited about given that I was seeing a band that has seen me through some hard times in the past couple years. Sometimes I need help feeling feelings and Mumford is the key to unlocking my black heart. Plus, I would be seeing them in my home church, the Ryman....a place that always makes me 8 shades of happy and peaceful. My expectations were that some spiritual stuff was about to go down. [Tangent: I imagined it would be akin to reading 8 Chicken Soup for The Soul books minus the suicidal urges that follow reading too much of that kind of thing.]

There were some definite bright spots [Tangent: At least that I could see from behind the couple in front of us who kept making out and the "woo-hoo girls" who refused to sit down even though most in their section were seated. My wheelchair has a fancy dancy elevator feature so I could raise up and see most of the stage over their heads, but the woman next to me must have missed the entire show. Be considerate concert going folks.] They had a serious moment with their "off the mics" version of Timshel which made me cry. Yes, I was that girl who got ruined her mascara when she heard: 

And it will steal your innocence
But it will not steal your substance

On the other side of the coin, this performance made my heart happy. I was Garfunkel'd my it, you could say.

About this time, things started to detour into apeshit crazytown. Frontman, Marcus forgot his words a few times in a couple songs and abandoned Thistle and Weeds altogether after the first verse. Because he made a joke of it [Tangent: If I recall he said something like, "I bet Hank Williams never forgot the fuckin' words."] and because he's British, I tried to see this sort of thing as charming. However, the denouement of the evening happened soon after when after a coughing spell, Mr. Mumford was forced off the stage to upchuck, while the band strummed on in confusion. After a minute of this, the stage tech came to inform them that a break was needed. Lights up. Five minute break. Return of Marcus. No explanation. Audience befuddled.

Maybe they should have asked one of the Mumford wannabes in the balcony to step to the plate because I could tell that whatever occurred during that break had taken a lot outta the fella. The rest seemed a little meh and there was no encore....understandably so. [Tangent: I am only assuming they had saved some of their big numbers like Sigh No More for the encore and since that never happened, I never saw it. :( ] Get that man some Gatorade.

I hate to say this, I just don't know if they were completely ready for the enormity of this 3 night stint. It would be interesting to see them under different circumstances now that the bar has been lowered slightly and with a couple more albums under their suspenders. In the meantime, I did get a sweet tshirt to commemorate the puke that took the Ryman by storm.

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