Mind you, this all took place within a span of three days, so it was a quick and dirty campaign to confirm entrance and round up all the details pertaining to the actual event. Saturday blew is unseasonably warm, but the sun was shining, I was with my friends, and we were going to see Mumford & Sons perform a private mini gig in Downtown Los Angeles. Not too shabby, temperature aside.
Despite the fact that the very title of the event had "pre-party" in it, none of us were sure what to expect. "Club wear" was also suggested, but the performance was to start at six and even though happy hour would already be well under way by then, it seemed a bit early in the day to don heels and enough black attire to dress the Mob. Solution: aim for the middle (I stowed by three inch pumps in my luggage sized purse just in case). Turned out to be a fairly "come as you are" type setting, which was a relief because if I'm being honest, we were all a bit anxious. As I've said before, this band has come to mean a great deal to us, individually and as a group, and with the future looking bigger and brighter than ever for our four favorite musicians, the days of seeing them perform in such a small setting seem numbered, if not already over. Thus the importance of this night and the reason behind our silly nerves.
I want to take a minute to formally thank everyone at KROQ for being so friendly and wonderful and not only making this night happen, but for taking a chance and playing music that just a year ago never would have graced your airwaves. All of the DJ's have championed Mumford & Sons, especially Kat Corbett, and you're all helping set a new example for what is radio worthy. Keep it up...people are listening.
Once inside, with wristbands tightly fastened, we found out that it really was a party after all. The bar was open on one floor, the theatre where the performance would be was on another and we were free to roam the Museum. CBS Radio spared little expense. It was quite impressive for something we essentially won via Twitter. But not to be detoured by the promise of booze, we went straight to the theatre on the second floor, which for museum purposes, usually pays homage to Hip Hop. After browsing a bit and spotting a celebrity here and there, we soon found ourselves in line and were all amazed again by KROQ's dedication to their fans when we got priority seating over the CBS executives and guests who were also in attendance. Scored second row seats! I'm being to consider that row our official place on the floor, seated or not.
Fifteen minutes later and it was standing room only. For a people watcher like myself, the waiting period beforehand was quite the show all its own; human beings, especially in social situations, are infinitely interesting subjects and rarely bore. But even the strange appearance of Ron Jeremy and gossiping about a few late arrivals to the fray didn't distract any of us for long and Kat Corbett's quick introduction of the band finally put us out of our misery.
I've seen the band play four full gigs and this was my third time seeing them at a radio event, but it was easily one of the best performances I've witnessed from them yet, second only to the first time I saw them play last year at the Music Box (for sentimental reasons, of course).
Opening, as is now accustomed, with "Sigh No More," its quiet plea, which is sometimes shaded and heavy, was...happy and met its crescendo lighter and more playful than I've ever heard it. I don't know if it's simply because they're refreshed from what I would think was a much needed break from the road or the unimaginable, overwhelming elation of knowing they'd be performing with the likes of The Avett Brothers and Bob Dylan the following night, but the energy in the room was excited and infectious and the mood for the rest of the set was fantastic.
And I'm going to eat my words a bit here because I thought for sure that the sheer number of Suits and VIPs in the room would put a damper on the night, but by all regards, this was an incredibly receptive audience and I do believe everyone truly enjoyed themselves, whether they were familiar with the band to begin with or not. Anyone who has ever been to a show and paid even the slightest bit of attention to their surroundings knows that if your fellow concert goers are unengaged, unimpressed, obnoxious or all of the above, the band on stage can sense it and that surprisingly fragile bond between performer and audience is broken. Been there, done that, didn't enjoy it one bit. Therefore, I don't think my assumptions were totally unfounded, but next time I'll try to be a little less...territorial.
"Awake My Soul" and "Little Lion Man" followed and the audience was thoroughly engaged. To my utter shock and delight, Marcus then announced they'd be playing a new song. It is as heartfelt and earnest as a song comes and has the rare distinction of not only being a song you can make your own, but one where you're partaking in something genuinely personal, a sharing of emotion. It takes a truly masterful songwriter to take something deeply personal and craft it into a song that is universally felt. Often times songs can be entirely too reflective of the writers own life and the listener isn't able to lose themselves in the music and it ends up feeling like you're listening to a friend bitch and moan, or even worse, swoon about the joys of love to the sound of a guitar. The song never has the chance to become your song; it can never speak to you or for you or about you and so it fails to ever amount to much more than pretty words put to pretty music.
The other side of the coin is when a song is written simply to be written. If a song has no heart, if it doesn't come from a genuine place, the listener will know it and push it aside. There is a reason misery loves company and a reason why we all have a need to share our triumphs, be it in love or otherwise, with others. No one wants to suffer alone and happiness has some sort of clause written into its fundamental law that makes it impossible not to want to share it with those around us. For better or for worse, there is an inherent comfort in feeling like we're not alone in what we feel. A songwriter has to produce something from a real place in order to get anything in return. There is nothing worse than a song that makes you feel like the joke is on you.
It is a very fine line to walk and this band does it exceedingly well and with what I think is a true understanding of the power of music and what it means to people on a visceral level. The untitled new song was listened to in relative silence and reverence. "Below My Feet," which debuted on the last North American tour, has evolved with each performance and has become one of the most powerful songs in their setlist, so I'm really excited to hear how this one changes as they road test it this Spring. Although, to this untrained ear, it sounds marvelous just as it is.
"The Cave" closed out the set and it killed me and my friends to have to stay seated. No one stayed seated for long once the song was over and the band exited the theater to a standing ovation. As our row began to file out, I employed my ninja-like skills to maneuver around everyone and grab a setlist from the stage. After taking a few minutes to collect ourselves, we ventured up to the fifth floor for the rooftop after party. The city lights, liberal amounts of vodka thanks to our choice bartender, and a surprisingly good DJ made for one of the funnest nights I've had in a good long while. We meet and talked to more genuinely cool people than we're used to at shows or events (some were even kind enough to give us their unused drink cards). Fast Freddy of Boston's MIX 104.1, your thoughts on skinny jeans are sound and just and your generously given drink card didn't go to waste! Hope you got into the Grammy's!
Mumford & Sons went on to not win any Grammy's, but they won something even greater that night: recognition and respect. Their performance, paired with one by The Avett Brothers and a collaboration with Bob Dylan was enough to flood every social network I'm on with talk of how great they were and how nice it was to see a band that looked genuinely happy to be playing music. Just two days later they were at the Brit Awards, performed a gorgeous rendition of "Timshel," and took home the award for Best Album.
It would seem the boys have made it, though I am loathe to share. But alas, these things aren't up to me and my only hope, other than to not continue to have trouble getting tickets to their shows (I've already lost out on seeing them play the Santa Barbara Bowl because tickets went faster than my internet connection could run), is that this all doesn't change them, that they continue to be people and band I've come to love. 2011 has set itself up to be a test for band and fan alike.
