The Lenten season has commenced, presenting many of us with the opportunity for self-reflection, deep prayer and fasting from some of life’s comforts in solidarity with the turmoil Jesus faced for the 40 days leading up to Easter. And while I have been anticipating the new Mumford & Sons album “Prizefighter” for far more than 40 days, it was a pleasant surprise to discover the unexpected relationship between this new piece and the season.
The album was released Feb. 20 — only two days after Ash Wednesday — and was co-produced by Mumford & Sons and Aaron Dessner, who most recently produced Florence + the Machine’s album “Everybody Scream” along with many of Taylor Swift’s best albums to date. Recorded at Dessner’s Long Pond Studios in New York, the group branched outside their typical practices, featuring multiple artists on the album and writing “more songs than [they] had in the last seven years combined.”
The album opens with “Here,” with Chris Stapleton: a heavenly pairing of talented voices, instantly drawing me in. Mumford’s vocals are crisp and cutthroat as he vulnerably lays all of his cards on the table through this song, opening the disc with a confessionary track. Once we are presented with his personal confessions of past mistakes, pride, blame and lies, frontman Marcus Mumford foreshadows the album’s instigation when stating, “I had lies like you wouldn’t believe / Brought to my knees.”
“Rubber Band Man,” with Hozier, opens with gentle instrumentals, juxtaposing the devastating lyrics soon to follow. Both Mumford and Hozier have claimed to have complicated relationships with the Church throughout their lives, adding an interesting spin to this track. They continue weaving what can be interpreted as religious imagery into the work by addressing the ephemeral nature of human life, a large focus in Catholic teaching. While taking into consideration the artist’s continued struggles with religion, the listening experience becomes all the more interesting and personal.
We are then presented with “The Banjo Song”: a catchy, Lumineers/Noah Kahan-esque sound that slightly strays from classic Mumford & Sons tracks. It’s not their worst work, by any means, but it does resemble an overplayed radio pick that may throw off frequent Mumford & Sons listeners. But this is quickly saved by “Run Together,” reviving their folk talent with a song that belongs in a coming-of-age film and falls back on religious themes. Whether expressing a relationship with God or another individual, Mumford expresses deep devotion within the song’s chorus line “I am yours, and yours, and ever.” This devotion is further played out as falling to one’s knees and freedom in emptiness, two things I and many others are focusing on throughout the season.
“Conversation With My Son (Gangsters & Angels),” one my favorite tracks, asks the self-reflective question the Lenten season calls to: “Who am I away from the fire?” This track points out humanity’s frequent weakness when it comes to choosing “the machine” rather than “the cross,” busying ourselves with everyday life and neglecting the spiritual. Mumford then leaves us with the message we all need to hear in such a polarized world: “But love your crooked neighbor / With your crooked heart.”
Next, the band plays with creative instrumentals and staccato verses in “Alleycat” and “Prizewinner,” two strong but lowkey tracks of the album. These two both showcase Dessner’s quirky producing skills with thoughtful lyricism and The National-esque rhythms, while still remaining true to the band.
As the next song “Begin Again” played on my first listen of the album, I instantly knew the religious direction I’d take with this analysis. With lines stating “We’re made of the same dust / can you see a way out?” and “What happened to your good faith,” Mumford directly interacts with faith in an explorative and curious way. The close reference of Ash Wednesday in “Begin Again” toys with the idea of death as a way of “shedding one’s skin” and wiping away their father’s sins, similar to the Catholic beliefs of one’s soul leaving their body after death and awaiting the life of the world to come.
I try to keep tabs on many artists at a time, but Gigi Perez has never come across my table. Her feature on “Icarus” transformed this already beautiful piece into the otherworldly serenade this album yearned for, and I’m so glad this was my first impression of her. The piece contributes to the idyllic themes of the album as it walks us through the narrator’s mistakes he’d made in youth, told through the story of Icarus as he flew too close to the sun and brought his death upon himself.
“Stay” is another one of Mumford’s stomp-clap songs of yearningly missing a past love, wondering if they will take his new self back and offer redemption. It ties back to the opening song “Here” with its vulnerability and guilt-ridden lyricism, demonstrating the lingering sense of dread the narrator carries regarding his lost love.
Underwhelmingly, the album proceeds with “Badlands” featuring Gracie Abrams. Not only does the song lack a dynamic structure, but the Abrams feature does nothing but muddy the crisp vocals we are served throughout the rest of the album. The doubled vocals of Mumford and Abrams don’t allow any room for Abrams to showcase personal talents like the features of Gigi Perez, Chris Stapleton and Hozier. Abrams, although a frequent visitor of Dessner’s production studio, was not a great fit for this album in the first place.
On the contrary, “Shadow of a Man” broke me down and built me back up again. It expresses the pains of life and responsibility within society, hopelessly and on the brink of death. But just as the distress troubles us enough, the line “There’s reason to believe / I feel it pull too tight / Wrap its arms around me” makes us believe again. There’s much we can take from Mumford’s reflections on how little the pain of life should burden us, and “thank God [we’re] just a shadow of a man.”
To close out the album, are “I’ll Tell You Everything” and “Clover” (a very Irish goodbye). Both pieces center around love, but “I’ll Tell You Everything” progresses through yearning for redemption in becoming a better man to “Clover” then appreciating the relationship the narrator is in. “Clover” juxtaposes the previously mentioned “Alleycat” with the narrator’s newfound “farm cat” with whom he has found love.
Long awaited, “Prizefighter” lives up to any and all expectations and leaves us with lots to consider for the remainder of these forty days. But now, “The chase is over, my love.”
