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The superstar band’s sixth album emphasizes their vulnerable side, with some help from A-list friends<\/p>\n<\/p><\/div>\n
\n\tMumford and Sons have spent their almost 20-year career puzzling out a big question: to stomp or not to stomp? The banjo-banging modern folk they came up with on their 2009 breakthrough Sigh No More <\/a><\/em>and its 2012 follow-up Babel<\/em> didn\u2019t just make the U.K. band unlikely stars, it changed the pop music mainstream<\/a>. Their rustic aesthetic heralded an acoustic music boom that included acts like Ed Sheeran, Noah Kahan, and Zach Bryan, and their sound crept into the rhythms of pop. Like any band with a signature style that starts to feel overly exposed, they\u2019ve wandered a little musically, usually into more sonically refined territory on LPs like 2015\u2019s Wider Mind <\/em>and 2018\u2019s densely packed Delta.<\/em> Last year, they were back with Rushmere<\/a>,<\/em> their first new record in eight years, which hit a nice balance of stomp and not-too-stomp. Their latest, Prizefighter<\/em>, keeps rolling in the same direction, with an emphasis on vulnerability and help from A-list friends.<\/p>\n \n\tWith the always-empathetic Aaron Dessner producing, the band hits an artisanally wrought balance of big-hug anthems and gentler folk moments. Many of the best songs on Prizefighter <\/em>get a hand from other artists, which are sprinkled plentifully throughout the album. It opens with two sweeping songs with big-name cameos. \u201cHere\u201d sees main man Marcus Mumford duet with Chis Stapleton on a country-soul catalog of rough regrets and faint hopes. Hozier is on board for \u201cRubber Band Man,\u201d co-written with Brandi Carlile, a finger-picked folk tune that lifts off into a barrel-chested romantic benediction. The most subtle of these might be the most memorable, \u201cBadlands,\u201d a lilting duet with Gracie Abrams in which Mumford\u2019s plaintive grumble blends nicely with the plainspoken prettiness of Abrams\u2019 voice.<\/p>\n