The roar of the crowd, the weight of a headline slot – Glastonbury in 2013 was a peak for Mumford & Sons. They’d ascended to the top of the festival bill, closing out the entire weekend with a performance that would be etched in festival history. But for Marcus Mumford, the night took an unexpected, and slightly chaotic, turn.
It wasn’t the performance itself that nearly got him banned, but what happened afterward. Driven by a desire for a tangible memory, a piece of the magic, Mumford attempted a bold move: he tried to steal a sofa from their dressing room. He envisioned it riding in the back of his van, a quirky memento of a monumental night.
The attempt was, unsurprisingly, unsuccessful. Security intervened, and Mumford found himself ejected from the dressing room, forbidden from re-entry. “I wasn’t allowed back in because I tried to steal furniture,” he confessed on a recent podcast, a sheepish grin likely playing on his lips as he recalled the incident.
This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment decision, either. He’d previously hinted at the sofa-napping attempt years ago, admitting he’d “tried to nick a sofa” immediately after coming off stage. The festival staff, it seems, had simply had enough. “Get out and don’t come back,” they reportedly told him.
Despite the near-expulsion, Mumford holds Glastonbury in the highest regard. He describes it as “the best festival on Earth,” the original and the standard by which all others are measured. It’s a place that holds a unique energy, a feeling he believes no other festival can replicate.
The 2013 performance wasn’t without its internal anxieties, either. Mumford revealed he’d experienced a panic attack during a previous Glastonbury appearance, making the pressure of headlining even more intense. Relief washed over him as the set, culminating in a collaborative performance with Vampire Weekend, went exceptionally well.
Their journey at Glastonbury began humbly, with a performance in 2008 to a mere 200 people. Six years later, over 60,000 fans packed the Pyramid Stage to witness their headline set. It was a meteoric rise, a testament to their growing popularity and the festival’s enduring appeal.
Mumford & Sons have graced Worthy Farm five times, but haven’t returned since that infamous sofa incident in 2013. Perhaps a stern warning, or simply a playful ban, remains in effect. Regardless, the story serves as a charming anecdote, a reminder that even rock stars aren’t immune to impulsive desires and the occasional brush with festival security.
