Marcus Mumford Writes a Deranged Letter to Mumford and Sons
You probably heard about the deranged sorority girl email that was making the rounds on the internet last week. This week, I got my hands on a letter Marcus Mumford sent to his titular band mates, Mumford and Sons.
If you just opened this old-timey parchment I told you to, tie yourself down to whatever artisan wicker chair you’re sitting in, because this is going to be a rough fucking ride.
For those of you that have your heads stuck under rocks, which apparently is the majority of this band, we have been FUCKING UP in terms of being on this “Suspenders and Soul” tour and general social interactions with The Lumineers. I’ve been getting handkerchiefs embroidered with stories about people LITERALLY being so fucking AWKWARD and so fucking BORING. If you’re reading this right now and saying to yourself “But oh em gee Mumford, I’ve been having so much fun with my band this week!”, then punch yourself in the face right now so that I don’t have to fucking find you on the fucking wheat field to do it myself.
I do not give a flying fuck, and The Lumineers not give a flying fuck, about how much you fucking love to talk to your fellow “sons”. You have 47 full harvest moons of the fucking year to talk to band, and this week is NOT, I fucking repeat NOT ONE OF THEM. This week is about fostering relationships in the Neo-Folk revival, and that’s not fucking possible if you’re going to stand around and talk to each other and not our tour mates Newsflash you stupid cocks: GRAMMY-NOMINATED BANDS DON’T LIKE BORING TOUR MATES. Oh wait, DOUBLE FUCKING NEWSFLASH: THE LUMINEERS ARE NOT GOING TO WANT TO HANG OUT WITH US IF WE FUCKING SUCK, which by the way in case you’re an idiot and need it spelled out for you with a vintage printing press, WE FUCKING SUCK SO FAR. This also applies to you little shits that have talked openly about post-show yodeling with Of Monsters and Men IN FRONT OF THE LUMINEERS. Are you people fucking retarded? That’s not a rhetorical question, I LITERALLY want you to send me back a messenger pigeon telling me if you’re mentally slow so I can make sure you don’t perform at any corporate-sponsored Bluegrass festivals. If The Lumineers openly said “Yeah we’re gonna invite Sleigh Bells over”, would you be happy? WOULD YOU? No you wouldn’t, so WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU DO IT TO THEM?? IN FRONT OF THEM?!! First of all, you SHOULDN’T be jamming with an old jug with other bands, I don’t give a FUCK if they got a 10.0 from Pitchfork, if they are headline Coachella, or if Lena Dunham instagrammed them. YOU DON’T GO. YOU. DON’T. GO. And you ESPECIALLY do fucking NOT convince other ‘Sons to leave with you.
“But Mumford!”, you say in a whiny little bitch voice to your oak-whittled music stand as you read this parchment, “I’ve been retweeting fan “@’ replies on twitter , doesn’t that count for something?” NO YOU STUPID FUCKING ASS HATS, IT FUCKING DOESN’T. DO YOU WANNA KNOW FUCKING WHY?!! IT DOESN’T COUNT BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN FUCKING UP AT INDUSTRY EVENTS TOO. I’ve not only gotten hand-delivered telegrams about people being fucking WEIRD at showcases (for example, being stupid shits and saying stuff like “durr what’s dubstep?” is not fucking funny), but I’ve gotten texts about people actually head-nodding for Lana Del Ray. Lana. Del. Ray. ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!! I don’t give a SHIT about musicianship, YOU CHEER FOR OUR GODDAMN NEO FOLK BANDS AND NOT THE OTHER ACTS, HAVE YOU NEVER BEEN TO A N INDUSTRY SHOWCASE ? ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND? Or are you just so fucking dense about what it means to make people like you that you think being a good little supporter of the elite indie community is going to make our tourmates happy? Well it’s time someone told you, NO ONE FUCKING LIKES THAT, ESPECIALLY OUR FUCKING HEADLINERS. I will fucking cunt punt the next person I hear about doing something like that, and I don’t give a fuck if your vintage mandolin or mine breaks, I WILL FUCKING ASSAULT YOU.
“Ohhh Mumford, I’m now crying because your decree has made me oh so so sad”. Well good. If this declaration applies to you in any way, meaning if you are a little asswipe that goes home to watch The Big Bang Theory after the show or if you’re a weird shit that does weird shit during the day, this following message is for you:
DO NOT PLAY IN TONIGHT’S SHOW.
I’m not fucking kidding. Don’t go. Seriously, if you have done ANYTHING I’ve mentioned in this parchment and have some rare disease where you’re unable to NOT do these things, then you are HORRIBLE, I repeat, HORRIBLE PR FOR THIS INDIE FOLK REVIVIAL MOVEMENT. I would rather have 40 bandmates that are fun, like to churn their own butter, and not fucking awkward than 80 that are fucking One Directioneers. If you are one of the people that have told me “Oh nooo boo hoo I can’t talk to other bands I’m too sober”, then I pity you because I don’t know how you got this far in life, and with that in mind don’t fucking show up unless you’re going to stop being a goddamn cock block for our band. Seriously. I swear to fucking God if I see anyone being a goddamn boner at tonight’s event, I will tell you to leave even if you’ve waxed your mustache. I’m not even kidding. Try me.
And for those of you who are offended at this, I would apologize but I really don’t give a fuck. Go fuck yourself. With a hand-crafted candelabra.