Review Summary: A series of surprisingly coherent and original steps forward...followed by a series of steps both backwards and sideways.
There’s a camp of critics who will crucify Mumford & Sons’ every move. It’s something I definitely understand, as these guys are hardly the poster boys of originality, but it’s also a prime example of hyper polarization. Mumford & Sons have always been gimmicky, they’ve always been cliché-ridden; but one thing they’ve never been is expressly talentless. They’ve always had a knack for crafting a decent vocal hook, and their guitar/banjo skills are probably what drew in most of their existing fanbase. The point here is that Mumford & Sons are essentially the textbook definition of a band that probably could have done more with their careers, but instead opted to stay the course in the name of stability and financial gain – much to the chagrin of people like me. However, that’s also what makes
Delta such an interesting crossroads for Mumford & Sons. In a mathematical context, the term signifies difference or change…and after listening to the album, I can confidently say that for the first time in this band’s history, that’s what we actually get.
There’s genuine curiosity stirring throughout
Delta, as the band experiments with a wide range of styles. The introduction of electronic elements into a folk band’s fabric is typically reason for dread, but they actually pull it off well – especially on ‘Woman’, which fronts as a ballad but transcends the term thanks to an addicting, slow-rocking groove and vocal/lyrical warmth that invokes images of embers softly glowing in the night. ‘The Wild’ brings on a full-blown orchestra for its latter half, complete with brass and string flourishes to comprise one of the band’s most unique crescendos.
Delta hits its creative apex at ‘Darkness Visible’, a song that thrives on its shadowy mystique. There’s a spoken passage in the first half that reads from John Milton’s
Paradise Lost – a blank verse poem about the fall of mankind – before the song resplendently erupts into an industrial beat accented by a delicate piano sequence. If you heard the song in random context you’d never know that it’s Mumford & Sons, which is proof alone that
Delta’s attempts to transform the band are, at least at times, a success. Isn’t that already more than we bargained for？
Unfortunately not all change is good, which is another side of
Delta that we witness in spades. Large swaths of the album float by undetected because the band loses itself in failed attempts at ambience, while other moments are more egregious – such as the laughably auto-tuned outro to ‘Forever.’ They also default to this odd finger-snapping/computerized percussive exchange far too often…once would have been bad enough, but for inexplicable reasons it surfaces on three tracks (two of which are consecutive). ‘Picture You’ is the only track that ends up completely ruined because of it, but their affinity for finger snapping and hand clapping on this album is still totally bizarre and unwarranted. Opener ‘42’ begins with overdubbed, harmonized vocals that are also a little too doctored up in the studio, which is something that happens a lot over the course of the record but never should have been placed within
Delta’s opening seconds, almost as some sort of brag. The best way to summarize Mumford & Sons failures here is sheer aloofness; it’s as if there was a wheel of genres in the studio that they spun for each song, because from one track to the next you don’t know if they’re going to sound like Depeche Mode or the Backstreet Boys.
We also knew that Mumford & Sons would not create an entire album without at least a few safe spaces for its loyal following to latch onto. Lead single ‘Guiding Light’ is that foundation, building to a harmonized folk chorus while the verses are underscored by paced drumming and occasional piano notes. ‘If I Say’ – another single – follows in the same vein. It was originally scripted to be a stripped down acoustic number, but as the layers added up in the studio it ended up aspiring for something far more epic, as strings swell in the background with emphatic drums and an uptick in vocal poignancy. Despite all of the embellishments, there’s nothing really remarkable – or even noteworthy – about the song. It’s just mediocrity projected to the stars. The band plays its epic hand a little better on the eponymous closer – ‘Delta’ – where Mumford & Sons wind through six minutes of acoustic balladry, sound sampling, banjo folk (yes, they brought it back again), and cathartic rock n’ roll. It’s not going to inspire future generations of musicians, but it’s comfort food for longtime fans that also works well as a summative finale.
So where does all of this leave
Delta ？It’s definitely their boldest album to date. There are songs on here that I still can’t believe Mumford & Sons were able to write, as well as some others that I wish they didn't. To boot, a handful of these tracks could have easily fit in on any of their previous albums. It’s a series of surprisingly coherent and original steps forward, followed by a series of steps both backwards and sideways. I’d venture to say that’s better than continuing to rummage around the status quo at least, even if the cumulative results are still decidedly average.
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