Fifteen inches of snow on the ground is enough to bury me in blankets, itching to get out. So while browsing the bookshelves of the world wide web I was reminded of my favorite band this year — Mumford and Sons (video below). I took in three of their shows in London. The first up in Camden Town, among barrels of 18-yer-olds who were waiting to see the opening act. In my old age I consoled myself with a beer before remembering that 18-year-olds can drink in the UK at that age anyway. The band only had a repertoire of eight or nine songs, but they struck me with their updated folk sound and their enthusiasm.
Post-show I walked with the only donor kebab I purchased in a year in London all the way around regent’s Park to my home. I still recall the taste of the kebab, the shredded roughage and the hot sauce, and my fingers warmed through the tissue wrapping that I carefully peeled away as I ate. During later shows I saw them again, though I was with friends. There’s a difference between watching concerts alone and in the company of friends, and I always made sure to walk home afterwords by myself, I think so as not to spoil the memory of the music. It strikes me that London, being such an expansive city, is so appealing because of the multitude of simultaneous stories in it. Sometimes I see myself from a far off distance, walking in the shallow darkness of Camden and Marylebone, and I see all the others moving about as well. Some have grabbed onto a life, while others unknowingly wait to grab on. They are all connected and yet disconnected, and I am unclear on how to make sense of that. Perhaps this is why the beginning words of this song always strike me:
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As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts…