Mumford and Sons - Babel

Mumford and Sons are one of those bands who do very well.

They sell a great deal of records and can fill some good sized venues without breaking a sweat, yet it's hard to find anyone that I know who will admit to liking them.

For some reason that I can't fathom they are the band whose name must never be spoken.

It's as if it's rather fashionable in some circles to look down noses on their efforts without having to explain, or even justify why, they draw this passive aggressive loathing.

No matter how many awards they have picked up, nor how much critical acclaim they have attracted, or how large their fan-base is, I struggle to find anyone I know who will give them the time of day.

It's all rather strange.

When their debut arrived I felt it was a rather refreshing take on the indie folk sound.

It didn't bowl me over, but I could see the appeal, and to be frank anything that was going to disrupt the stranglehold of dross that is the charts is always welcomed by my ears.

Now here they are with Babel, their follow up to Sigh No More - an album that is creeping ever closer to having sold 3 million copies I may add - and while some bands would buckle under the pressure of having to  deliver an equally successful album they have instead created a release that has shot straight in at the number one spot in the US and is currently the fastest selling release in the UK.

Apart from the populist support it has received from the public, it would appear that the mainstream media are loving it to.

Yet will this success be enough to break down the walls and encourage those who dislike them to lend the band a fresh ear?

Probably doubtful, but when I listen to Babel I honestly can't dredge up enough of a fuck within me to make the effort to get those who would willfully dismiss the band to listen.

After all it's their loss as Babel is an album that will push the band to deserved stadium stardom with or without the patronage of the cool kids and the music snobs.

It's huge in every sense.

It's anthemic, but falls short of being bombastic. It's got heart and it's got soul.

It's effortlessly, and touchingly, introspective at times, and at others it's equally a rousing soundtrack to a singalong party that could exist in a corner bar, or even reach the back row of a football stadium.

It's quite possibly the every-man album of this generation.

There's really no reason to dislike it at all, unless you want to be a contrary cunt and claim that it's shite while arguing that the grass isn't green and the sky isn't blue.

Fashionistas be damned. It's a great album. Simple as that.