I fear that the reason for the Mumfords' status as "one of the most maligned bands in the world", to borrow Drowned In Sound's phrase, is nothing more complicated than that old cliché: build 'em up, and knock 'em down.
For me, the British Summertime is all about its music festivals. I will be taking you through a tour of the very best things going on in and around London with my first belated entry about the mother of all festivals, Glastonbury.
But moaning about posh popstars and the inevitable response from the media of championing "real artists" is a self-perpetuating cycle. For every Mumford and Sons, there's a Jake Bugg waiting by to call them out on their accents.
There is a natural wariness that takes over whenever anybody asks: "Do you like country music?" As if by admitting to yourself that you like any songs from a genre that spans the majority of Western music means you immediately have to put on a stetson hat and chew on some straw.
Last week a man was reportedly facing jail in the US for stealing a guitar from someone's coffin. Another one of those only in America stories I guess. But it made me think about my relationship with music.