Marcus Mumford and his foot-stomping progeny have just blasted out another album: Prizefighter, their sixth, just seven months after the release of their last record, Rushmere. This is clearly a highly productive patch for the band, who teamed up again with Aaron Dessner of The National, who co-wrote and co-produced the LP, previously coming together for the group’s third album, Wilder Mind, in 2015.
What instantly stands Prizefighter out is that it’s a record jam-packed with collaborations from some A-list artists (Chris Stapleton, Gracie Abrams, Hozier and Gigi Perez) who all add their own voice and make it varied enough to be worth a listen. One of two collaborative highlights for me is the album’s glorious opener, ‘Here,’ with the country music legend Chris Stapleton (a man with more Grammys than the majority of us have fingers). Stapleton’s voice gives an unquestionable hallmark of quality and a feeling of authenticity. Gracie Abrams provides another slice of genuine feeling in the latter half of the album as she sings on the stunning ‘Badlands’ – a gorgeous tune that stands out as something special. Abrams was also reportedly heavily involved in the creation of the record, offering advice on lyrics and musical direction, and I’m sure the finished article was all the better for it.
‘Alleycat’ is another gem and has a joyously upbeat melancholy to it with beautifully written and gently delivered lyrics that carry a theme that is explored across the entire album. A message of reaffirming where the band are, of taking stock and moving forward with renewed confidence and self-belief that things are getting better. Throughout the fourteen tracks, there is a sense that the boys are acknowledging that they’ve been through the mill. Since Winston Marshall left in 2021, they’ve struggled to live up to the insane and immediate success of the ‘Sigh No More’ days, but they seem to be making peace with where they are now. Mumford himself is certainly creatively buoyed and excited: “We feel like we’re hitting our prime as a creative force. We’re putting everything we have into this now, and we’re using everything about our experience so far to embrace exactly who we are. We’re comfortable in our skins these days. And ‘Prizefighter’ is us going for it…”
‘Prizefighter’, the album’s titular track, has a Springsteen-esque storytelling quality and tells a similar tale, albeit with a more resigned edge, that of an ex-champ still swinging punches in the borderlands despite being frustrated at what has gone before and of past glories that might not return. Mumford sings, “You should have seen me, in my glory…he’s really not me now, is he?” There is a frailty to this that can’t be ignored, a sense that the band are willing things to go forward with a newfound belief and drive, but also that there are nagging doubts that perhaps it’s all for nothing, or, at the very least, that they need to be comfortable with the reality.
Unfortunately for me, though, it is this consistent message of renewal, rebirth, staying committed and keeping going that actually dogs this record and makes it weary and repetitive at times. Not so much in the standout songs that I’ve mentioned but in the more than a few also-ran tracks that would have benefited from more time to improve the words or from being cut out altogether. With 14 tracks and a running time of 49 minutes, there is certainly plenty of fat to trim. ‘Run Together’ has the painfully trite “When we run, we run together, when we’re apart, we fall apart.” Come on, Marcus, you can do better! While ‘The Banjo Song’ has the flaccid lyric, “I can be someone (slight pause) for you.” Hmmm, sorry gents, but I’m not exactly feeling your muse swoon with uncontrollable erotic desire here.
In a similar vein, ‘Shadow of a Man’ is a bit of a squirmy wallow in vulnerability with jarringly on-the-nose words such as, “All I ever wanted was a reason to believe.” this is sung with clear feeling but not with the raw blood and guts needed to make you believe that it’s really meant so it doesn’t connect where it matters. Likewise, ‘Conversations With My Son (Gangsters and Angels)’ gives us a tremendous build-up mid-song that promises so much but tapers off meekly at the end like a 100m sprinter suffering from sudden cramp and limping to the sidelines before the finish line. I’m not expecting a Cobain-style scorched throat policy, but just something to make the listener feel that there is true passion behind the words; it is times like these when we get a safe six and a half when it should be dialled up to eleven.
There are other moments when a song that could be so good is let down by having a bit too much thrown at it. I’m a real fan of the album’s finger-picked closing song ‘Clover’, which has a Nathanial Rateliff ring to it, but perhaps less is more, and the strings, banjo, harmonies and other bits and bobs could be stripped back to increase the sense of fragility to the whole piece. I’d love to hear an early demo of this to compare to the album version.
Overall, I think Mumford and Sons fans will love this album as it delivers something really well put together and with some truly blissful moments that reveal a band in a good place, finding new purpose and clarity. However, personally, I need something with more grit and less polish. Something with a true sense that the band believe in their own message with every song. I need lyrics with less angular clunk and more subtle poetry, more seductive narrative and less emotional billboard. I’d also love to get the sense that after a song was recorded, the band just couldn’t give anything else. Instead, it feels at times that the moment they put their instruments down, they reach for a cup of tea and a malted milk biscuit. Despite all of this, I honestly think that this album is the perfect launch pad for moving forward, and if the band reach down deep enough for the next one, then they could end up with something very special.
