Album of the Month: March

The album I’ve chosen as my March 2025 pick couldn’t be anything other than Rushmere, the fifth studio album by British folk-rock band Mumford & Sons, released on March 28, 2025. It marks a big return after a seven-year break, and it’s also their first project since the departure of banjo player Winston Marshall. What’s left is the trio — Marcus Mumford, Ben Lovett, and Ted Dwane — going back to their roots: acoustic instruments, stripped-down production, and a lot of soul-searching.

I read quite a few negative reviews from folks who maybe expected the same high-energy anthems from the early days, and honestly, I get the disappointment — but at the same time, it felt inevitable. With the banjo gone and a new lineup dynamic, a shift in sound was bound to happen. And it’s not like they’ve abandoned what makes them Mumford & Sons; they’ve just evolved. There’s a quote from Marcus Mumford in an interview with Booker and Stryker from ALT 98.7 FM that sums it all up beautifully: "Most of the songs on this record, you could play on an acoustic guitar around a campfire."  That’s the vibe. It's intimate, organic, and emotionally raw.

Rushmere weaves together elements of folk, blues, and even a little country, balancing stripped-back ballads with foot-stomping, uptempo moments. There’s a clear emotional arc here — starting from vulnerability and darkness, then slowly moving toward redemption and hope. It’s not an album that tries to impress with tricks or theatrics. It’s honest.

Let’s talk about the tracks!

The opener, Malibu, was also one of the singles — and it sets the tone perfectly. It starts off quietly, with muted percussion and warm acoustic guitar, and like a few other tracks on the album, it builds slowly until it bursts into a rich, layered climax. That build-up, that emotional crescendo — it’s very reminiscent of their earlier work, and it really kicks off the album with the kind of slow burn that pays off beautifully.

Then there’s Caroline, which, in my opinion, is an absolute gem — surprising it wasn’t released as a single. It’s upbeat, catchy, and has a rhythm that makes it stand out in the best way. It brings a welcome lift in energy, and its placement right after Malibu gives the album a really solid one-two punch.

The third track is the title track, Rushmere. It’s reflective and rooted in nostalgia, named after the spot in Wimbledon Common where the band spent time in their early days. There’s a warmth to it — a sense of coming full circle — that gives the whole album its name and emotional core. For me, Malibu, Caroline, and Rushmere are hands down the strongest songs on the record.

After those three, the mood settles with Monochrome, a quiet, fingerpicked lullaby that’s tender and simple. It brings some stillness back after the emotional highs of the first three tracks. I’m actually working on a guitar tutorial for it, so stay tuned — it’s a beautiful one to learn and play.

Truth breaks the mold a bit — it’s definitely one of the “experimental” songs Mumford mentioned in that same interview. The acoustic guitars are combined with an electric guitar layered over a bluesy bass line. It’s grittier, heavier, and feels like a sonic detour, but it still fits within the overall arc of the album.

Then we shift again with Where It Belongs, one of the most introspective tracks here. It brings the piano into the picture — a new presence that carries through much of the second half of the album. It’s understated, but deeply moving.

Anchor follows naturally from there, touching on themes of guilt and redemption. It’s one of those songs that feels personal and quietly powerful. The lyrics — “I can’t say I’m sorry if I’m always on the run” — hit hard, especially in the context of the album’s exploration of accountability and healing.

Surrender gives us another slow-build moment. If you’re a fan of gradually swelling arrangements and emotional payoff, this one’s for you. It starts gently and then rises into something much bigger — another great example of how the band plays with pacing and dynamics on this record.

Next is Blood on the Page, the only track with a featured artist — Madison Cunningham, whose voice adds a beautifully delicate, feminine layer. The rubber bridge-style guitar gives it this soft, dreamy texture that really sets it apart from the rest. It doesn’t try to steal the spotlight, but sonically it’s one of the more unique tracks on Rushmere.

And finally, Carry On closes the album. It’s bright, hopeful, and feels like a deep exhale. After all the searching and questioning in the earlier songs, this one offers resolution. It’s a strong closer that leaves you with a sense of quiet optimism.

All in all, Rushmere feels like a mature album — one that’s not afraid to sit with raw emotions and let them unfold slowly. It’s full of storytelling, self-reflection, and subtle beauty. If you're looking for big festival bangers, this might not be it. But if you want something that feels genuine, human, and quietly powerful, Rushmere is absolutely worth a listen.