My (not-so-major) discovery

Surely I'm not the last person on earth to have heard of Mumford & Sons.

Surely, in the heart of Africa, there's a tribe hidden in the depths of the jungle that the tune of "Little Lion Man" has yet to reach.

But I'm not so sure.

It wasn't until a few days ago that I stumbled across the likes of Mumford & Sons, almost solely by mistake. I'm a bit ashamed of myself, honestly. How is it that this band that's been around since December 2007 has yet to fill my iPod with all its glory and greatness? I wish I had an answer.

Surely there must be some mistake, I assumed. I tend to think I keep a close ear to the new music coming out on a fairly consistent basis and at least have an idea of who the new talent is. So when I heard "Little Lion Man" the first time from this band I've never heard of, I was sure that I had found the next big thing that, what I thought, only a select group of people had heard. The song took me back to middle school and to my first relationship when I didn't ask my girlfriend to the school dance, which turned out to be a deal breaker. I was crushed.

"Weep for yourself, my man, you'll never be what is in your heart. Weep Little Lion Man, you're not as brave as you were at the start."

"But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line. I really fucked it up this time, didn't I, my dear?"

My inner 12-year-old was tucked up in his room again, heartbroken, swearing to never leave and to never love again. I took straight to YouTube to find this little showcase of talent and see what other greatness it brought to the table. What I found I can't say I was entirely happy with. "Little Lion Man" had more than 24 million views. Other songs, "Awake My Soul," "Thistle and Weeds," "The Cave," all peaked in the upward hundred of thousand views.

I was irked with my total obliviousness to this band. Why hadn't any of my friends sent Mumford & Sons my way? Why hadn't, through the course of the many YouTube videos, did a recommendation for this band not present itself? I wanted to hate myself. I wanted to hate this band for alluding me for so many years. But I couldn't. The music that played through my speakers was so packed with emotion and feeling, and with each new song played came a small dose of nostalgia.

I was back at the dance I didn't ask my seventh-grade girlfriend to, sitting lonely at a table, silhouetted against the glass, watching as she danced with another boy.

Me and my inner heartbroken 12 year old are going to go listen to "Little Lion Man" again.