I've been to three gigs this week- one in a massive arena, one in a squat in east London and tonight, Mumford and Sons at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, a refreshingly homely feel for such a large space.

Everyone must know by now that the banjo has it roots in west Africa; its forbears are the ngoni and ekontine of Mali and Senegal, the latter furiously and brilliantly played by Juldeh Camara last night at Passing Clouds in east London with the rock guitarist Justin Adams.

Mumford and Sons do the banjo (post trans-Atlantic slave trade version) in a big way. M&S are from west London, formed only a couple of years ago and put out their debut album last year. They've gone from being a local indie 4-piece to being one of the most celebrated music acts in Britain at the moment, at a rocket speed that no one, least of all them, can quite fathom. It's attention they both deserve and are humbled to receive.

"18 months ago we were playing in a barn at a friend's wedding," said the lead singer, pointing out their friend who was in the audience. "It's kind of fucking with our heads that now we're here."

Homely, honky-tonk banjo and guitar-led stomp mixed with brilliant musicianship, wicked rock energy and surreal lyrical themes. Having seen an average band play a packed arena earlier in the week, tens of thousands of people happy to watch OK musicians loving themselves up with no offer of blistering guitar solos, it was massively moving to see musicians acknowledge that we, their public, are capable of understanding musical excellence. They were rehearsed, intuitive and deeply pleased to be playing.