Earlier this week, on Tuesday, I saw Mumford and Sons at the Ryman. Basically a dream combo, one of my favorite bands at my favorite venue. The night didn't quite go as planned. I have no idea what was going on but lets just say there were forgotten lyrics, a coughing fit, and some possible pukage from Marcus. From everything I've heard, he's a quality dude and I honestly felt really bad for the guy.
Fast forward to last night when I got an invite to a secret Mumford afterparty at the Basement. Its a tiny and intimate joint and I've never seen a bad show there. I really wasn't sure how/if we'd get in but figured it was worth a shot. We were turned away because we lacked credentials or a password and definitely were not on the guest list. One last ditch effort and some possible divine intervention, we managed to get in. There was a tiny crowd with all sorts of industry recognizables. We definitely did not fit in.
The music was incredible, the dancing was non-stop, the atmosphere was electric. Marcus, Ben, Ted, and Winston just wandered through the crowd like anyone else there enjoying the show, chatting and thanking friends along the way. Genuine, humble, quality guys. Mumford redemption indeed. I'll spare you all of the details of the night, but somewhere around 3:30 am, I found my way home and struggled to fall asleep, still reeling from the magic of the night. Surreal, a night I never wanted to end.