What I Learned About The Lumineers: A Story Of Redemption

By Philip Carroll

On Monday, March 25th, I went to the Stevenson Athletic Center to work out, as I routinely do on this particular day of the week. It began as an average visit until a student, whose name will remain anonymous for the sake of this report, began working out on a machine parallel to mine.

Now, I hate to admit that I am a bit of a screen-looker at the gym. I’m usually curious as to how my body is performing in comparison to those of my peers. This particular student was having great success, running a 7:17 mile with nary a bead of sweat. I wondered long and hard what the secret of their success may be.

I had to know.

I knew my eyes were my allies. I paid close attention to every screen this student had access to. Within a short amount of time, I had uncovered a secret I did not wish to bare.

Upon their cell phone I observed an album cover. An album cover featuring a blurry woman and a small girl holding a parasol.

I racked my brain. I knew I had seen such art before, yet it seemed like a lifetime ago. I just knew I had seen it. My sweat had tripled. My mind grew groggy. My legs, weak. And suddenly, without warning or consideration for human life, it hit me.

This student was listening to the Lumineers. They ran faster than I ever have while acoustic guitars and tambourines blasted into their ears.

At first I was merely confused. “Why would one listen to this band at such a time?” I thought as I felt my heart rate steadily increase. Slowly, but surely, I became envious. I wanted what this student had. Being able to endure not only the mile, but some of the most mediocre music ever made. Simultaneously. Such strength. Such conviction. I thought of my mother. I cried.

I left the treadmill with glazed eyes and an empty heart. In an effort to find inner peace, I mounted an elliptical. I reached my right thumb to my Spotify app and did something I am not proud of.

The music fueled my energy, and I, its. We informed each other in a way that filled me up. It answered questions I didn’t even know I had. The guitars told me arcane secrets, the tambourines peeled back the thin veil of the fabric of the multiverse. Wide eyed, all I had to do was listen and pedal, listen and pedal, listen and pedal, listen and pedal.