Mumford & Sons Grammys Pre-Party (2-12-11)

My luck continues to hold out when it comes to these four gentlemen and I was lucky enough to attend KROQ'S Grammy Pre-Party at the Grammy Museum last Saturday. I think a lot of this so called luck can be attributed to the tenacity of my friends. Abi once again won us these passes; she took to the internet with blinding determination the minute I told her about the online contest and voilà! The woman is golden.

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!

[Check out all the performances from the party here]

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.

Mumford & Sons: A Really Belated Week in Review

I still have half of my trip to New York, all of Comic Con, and four shows worth of photos to sift through and upload, and the band has already concluded their entire North American tour, but there is a week back in October that takes precedent over all of those easily. And what a week it was. As evidence:


Star 98.7 Penthouse - October 18


The Hollywood Palladium - October 18


The Warfield - October 20

The acoustic set at Star 98.7's Penthouse, which was won through Twitter, was short but sweet. Ever modest and endearing with their easy charm, not only could I sit and listen to them play for hours, I'd be content to sit and listen to them ramble on about farming and football, too. What can I say, I'm a sucker for handsome, amiable, ridiculously talented British men.

A representative of Glassnote Records was there and with the show at the Palladium looming large, it was obvious that getting to spend any one on one time with the guys was just not going to happen, though that didn't stop us from being a bit disappointed when it didn't come to pass. Nonetheless, seeing them perform with only a few dozen other people with the Hollywood sign and Capitol Records Building as a backdrop is an experience I'll never turn my nose up at, especially when the cavernous expanse of the Palladium takes the term "intimate" and flattens it like a tank.

Seeing the line outside the venue Monday night, as it snaked it's way down Sunset and around the building, I instantly remembered why I prefer small venues. It also became clear that for all the people that were there for the love of the band and their music, twice as many were there simply to be "seen." Ugh. Thank you, Los Angeles, for single-handedly making the collective audience look like one giant asshole. But I digress, that discussion is for another time and with a few more cups of coffee.

Thankfully, the guys know how to put on a fantastic show and though I would have been better equipped to enjoy it had I brought my binoculars with me, I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I love them that much. Highlights: "Sister" unplugged (goddamn Marcus Mumford can project - we heard him perfectly all the way in the back) and the New Song (i.e. Below My Feet), which gets better and more powerful with each performance.

After being unceremoniously ushered out of the venue, the trek back to the car seemed like a challenge befit The Amazing Race; the immensity of pain in our feet and backs and utter dehydration makes me think my friends and I are getting to old for this shit. Luckily, denial and I are old friends. The majority of the mob had already dissipated, so when we saw that there were a few people hanging out by what turned out to be the "back door," we ventured over to see what was up.

And who do we find but Ted Dwane chatting with some fans. Out came the ticket stubs and a pen I hoped would work in place of a Sharpie. I was wrong, but after fishing out a ball point, he was gracious enough to sign our tickets while answering a couple of questions from other fans who had wandered over. This was a nice little way to cap off a pretty great day.

Took Tuesday to recoup and pack and come five Wednesday morning, my friends and I were up and loading the car for a mini road trip to San Francisco to see Mumford & Sons at The Warfield. I've been to San Francisco before and it's picturesque and vibrant and a pleasant escape from the muck and mire of Los Angeles, but the area we stayed in did everything in its power to prove otherwise. There was trouble with our hotel, the short walk to the venue was sketchy beyond belief, and we had so little time to get ready before the show, that we were all a little miserable by the time we stumbled into line a full two hours before doors.

It all worked out in the end, though. Second row pretty much made up for the days trials and tribulations and how far away we were on Monday at the Palladium. King Charles made an indelible mark once again and Mt. Desolation found welcomed verve in front of the smaller crowd. Speaking of the crowd, though fraught with hipsters like any show these days, it felt decidedly less pretentious, and we were all in it together for the music. Everyone was a little distracted by the Giants game in progress, but you can't really fault them too much for that, especially since it aided in one of the more charming moments of the night (read: Marcus' reaction to Ted on drums).

Apart from the wonderful, light little moments between songs, the entire set had a weight to it that immediately set me and my friends a bit on edge. There was a rawness and intensity to the performance that felt different from anything we'd seen in person or via the wonders of YouTube. Though each member of the band holds equal footing off stage, as the voice of the band, Marcus truly sets the tone once on stage and he held a certain stillness that was heavy with unspoken emotion from beginning to end. His usual points of inflection during certain songs were amplified and messy, but in that really incredible way that you will only ever get at a live show when you actually get to see a musician working shit out on stage through his music. It was quite a thing to behold and made for an unforgettable experience.

This is also why I believe so strongly in small(er) venues. So much is lost when performances are held in outrageously large spaces and looking back on this week of shows, the one at the Palladium feels thin and almost like it didn't happen. Will I stop going to see my favorite bands when they play these venues (prediction time: Mumford & Sons, when they return to Los Angeles, will play The Wiltern or The Greek if it's a summer tour), of course not, but I may grumble about it afterward. I'm just sayin'....

But back to the show at The Warfield, it ended with a bang. They threw us for a magnificent loop and played "Feel the Tide Turning" and "Whispers in the Dark" as part of the encore. *insert expletive ridden exclamation of joy here* There were chills and looks of awe exchanged between my friends and I and then it was sheer glee over witnessing two songs live we honestly never thought we'd get to see. Way to take it to the next level, boys. I mean, these two songs could easily end up on the next album, but as of now, it's kind of a big deal for this Mumford & Sons fan.

All in all the night was a roaring success and incredible amounts of fun were had by all involved, but most especially by me and my friends. We came together a little over a year ago because of another musician, but this band has solidified the bond in ways nothing else could have. Their music has brought focus, happiness, and hope to our lives. This could all easily be written off as the overly sentimental musings of a fangirl, which they are, but how could I ignore or cheapen it all with indifference when this band joins the ranks of bands (read: Something Corporate and Jack's Mannequin) that have changed my life for the better. I can't and I won't. So here I am owning it from my little corner of the internet. Put that on a t-shirt or have it embroidered on a pillow, I'll buy them both.

My poor little neglected blog. And to think I had such enthusiastic intentions when I first started this thing. But alas, life seems to have gotten away from me and finding the time, and more importantly, the words has been more difficult than anticipated.

My muse seems to be in hibernation, hiding out from late arrival of another California summer, which is a shame because I've been to quite a few amazing shows lately and have added even more to the already full list I started back in May.

Angus & Julia Stone at The Hollywood Forever Masonic Lodge back on May 26 turned out to be a delightful show. It was a decidedly unusual place to hold a gig, but the venue itself was lovely and set a really incredible mood and tone for the night. Julia Stone, as it turns out, is a remarkable jack of all trades and it was amazing to watch her hop from one instrument to another with each new song. Highlights of the night: having Nick Maybury accompany them on "Yellow Brick Road" with his masterful, haunting guitar skills and getting to hear/see "Private Lawns" live (if you didn't already know, it's a cover of Doris Day's "Just Blew In From The Windy City" from Calamity Jane, a film I grew up watching and adoring).



And then there was Mumford & Sons, for which I have so many words I'm going to skip them here and just say that it was, without a doubt, the best show I've ever been to and I've yet to recover. I also had a chance to briefly meet the guys at a radio event the day before and they are arguably some of the nicest, most genuine people you will ever meet. Look for a obscenely long recap of said events in the near future where I wax poetical and ramble on about new standards being set and the sheer joy they've brought to my life. It's gonna be a doozy.





The night after Mumford & Sons was another British act of a completely different vein: The xx. I wasn't really sure what to expect of the show or how their rather mellow music would translate to a live performance, but it turned out to be surprisingly powerful.



My friends and I then caught the first night of Sam Bradley's Tuesday night residency at The Hotel Cafe on June 22. We've seen Marcus Foster and Bobby Long a handful of times, so we thought we'd finally give Sam a go and I'll just come right out and say it: didn't really do much for any of us. He has a really fantastic voice and buckets of charm and charisma on stage, but I'm a little confused as to what kind of musician he is, what sound he's going for, and I think maybe he is too.

That didn't stop the usual horde of fangirls from showing up and a large majority of them making complete asses of themselves. The needle on my Secondhand Embarrassment Meter never left the "Holy Fuck I'm So Embarrassed For Them - Please Don't Judge Me By Their Actions" mark all night. Sam also gets a gold star for being incredibly gracious and staying after the show to sign, take pictures with, and speak to the longest line of fans I've ever seen outside that particular venue, even as the staff was trying to clear the alleyway. 'A' for effort, man. And then, then there was Bobby Long's show at The Troubadour. This was my fifth time seeing Bobby and it could very well be my last. It's a really long story and like my forthcoming Mumford & Sons post, it'll get its own dedicated review. I'll preface it by saying that my heart is a little broken. And by a little, I mean a lot.

Now I'm all caught up. Upcoming shows I'll hopefully be posting about in a more timely manor: Laura Marling (!!!) on 7/28, Civil Twilight on 7/29, We Are Scientists on 8/6, John Mayer on 8/22, Something Corporate on 8/28, Local Natives on 9/18, The xx and Warpaint on 9/22, The Black Keys on 9/28, Matt Hires on 10/9, and last but not least FLORENCE + THE MACHINE on 11/6.

Needless to say, I'm a bit excited for what's to come.

My time management skills have been nonexistent the last two weeks. There's this little thing called a full time job I have that has been monopolizing my time and unfortunately, no matter how much I wish it, the time I do spend online doing my favorite things (like finding new and promising bands/musicians) doesn't pay the bills. Right about now, though, I'm beginning to think that I chose the wrong major and spent five years of my life pursuing a career that no longer holds the interest or excitement it did when I didn't know any better.

It seems I've suffering from "if you only knew then what you know now" syndrome. It's incurable and might be catching, so if you are content with your current lot in life and can't handle a healthy dose of snark, you might want to keep your distance. Misery loves company, right?

Lucky for me, and those I interface with on a daily basis, I have my music. Lots and lots of music to quell the inner storm, the perpetual existential crisis that continues to swell with each passing year, though not for a lack of trying.

My days of relatively ignorant bliss are behind me and I move forward embracing what I know, and what I don't know but wish to learn, all the while creating a running soundtrack to help get me through the days and if I'm lucky, bring a shred of perspective to keep me grounded.

So now it does truly begin. I'm currently working on a rant/review of one of my favorite new musicians that I'm having a bit of time wrapping my head around, but am determined to make happen as time permits.

In the meantime, and in lieu of a real recommendation, here's what been on heavy rotation for the last few weeks: Freelance Whales and Mumford & Sons. These days, give me a band with a bango or accordion or glockenspiel (or if you're really going for broke, a double bass) and I'm there. But more than the slightly quirky mix of instruments and respectively, a sound that is both familiar and refreshingly new, you've got a lot of heart...and soul. Two things is short order in the world at large, let alone in the music scene. So give them both a listen; you just might find something you didn't even know you were looking for.