All dust-paved roads were leading to this.

How could they not? In an age whose generational youth can be broadly (or unfairly) understood by their misguided sense of identity through contradictions, by extension of the manipulative second life that digital communication allows, it should come as no surprise that the biggest band in 21st century American pop music is a folk quartet who play the banjo and still wear suspenders. And are from England.

The Times, They Are A-Changin’.

Grammy Award-winning music group Mumford & Sons, having released only two proper full-length albums to date, have already cornered the pop-folk market on the backs of such foot-stomping hits as 2010’s “Little Lion Man,” and 2012’s “I Will Wait,” whose rollicking hootenanny spirits have infected the airwaves as well as paved the way for more folk-type outfits’ successes (warranted or not). But their latest move might have just undone the false facade that the Mumford gang had been so successfully operating under. Through the guise and get-up of old-timey ramblers, Mr. Mumford and his Sons might have just unintentionally ended the hoe-down.

“Hopeless Wanderer,” a track from the band’s 2013 Grammy-Award Winning Album of the Year Babel (not ironically defined as a confusion of sounds and voices), has just gotten its music video release, and the internet has (predictably) responded in unified approval. Conceived by Sam Jones, director of the thoughtful and stirring Wilco documentary I Am Trying To Break Your Heart, the initial concept was to feature well-known comedians acting as the band.

As the video begins with familiar golden hues of sun rays and close-ups of vintage threads and stand-up bass playing in a vast field, the audience finds comfort in knowing they’re watching the right video. But a few pans and rack focuses later, we find that our folk heroes are not actually themselves; leading Hollywood comedians Jason Sudeikis, Ed Helms, Jason Bateman, and Will Forte instead are finally revealed as Marcus Mumford, Ben Lovett, Winston Marshall, and Ted Dwayne, walking down the dust-beaten road with a comedic amount of instruments strapped to themselves, while pushing an upright piano.

Yes, this is funny. The readably parodying shenanigans that ensue, set against the backdrop of such a forlorn and angst-ridden folk ballad, achieve that intended effect of being funny. We are allowed to laugh because now the joke is out there in plain, HD sight. Perhaps unconsciously, or even knowingly, fans of Mumford & Sons have all the while had to accept the slight ridiculousness in favoring a band whose image was so consciously contrived in modeling a time of antique fashion without the existence of Gangnam Style or Honey Boo Boo. To listen and sing along to one of their songs is to be transported back in time when times were simpler (at least what one may think that version of simpler is). American folk music, from its beginnings, was built on the foundation of Singers as Social-Activists, with a political consciousness where lyricism and songwriting were only as powerful because of the larger message that trumped their technical instrument-playing abilities and de-amplified acoustic instruments. The music acted as an extension of the mind, with such pioneers as Woody Guthrie, Bob Dylan, and Joan Baez bringing folk music to the forefront of pop culture, through social-activist grassroots movement. It was a music of the everyman, which validated its status as authentic and original, true and good. And perhaps the only move that can not be justified as authentic and original, is when A-list leading funnymen assume the characters of these folk-hero types. Forte (read: Dwayne) weeping singular tears, while Bateman (Marshall) wiping away and tasting them, Sudeikis’ Mumford furiously making out with Forte, and the band’s straw hat banjo breakdown, the joke is fully realized. And Mumford and Sons are now in on it too.

This is not all to lead me to drawing the conclusion that I find Mumford & Sons to be bad.  Their music is infectious and plays to the widest common denominator, which spurs economic activity, which is (probably) a good thing. The commercial appeal of the band’s music being at odds with the music’s original roots devoid of capitalistic aspiration was until now, the irony that the band didn’t need to openly address. While they toured internationally on private jets (I wonder if they still call them aeroplanes?), the elephant sat earnestly in the room, while all parties suspended their disbelief to let the music sing for itself.

Though now it seems obvious. While the fans have always had the ability to choose to accept the nature of the band on an as-needed basis, perhaps peppering in “The Cave” after Daft Punk’s “Get Lucky” felt overplayed, the members themselves could never join in on the 21st century modernity of it all and assume a look that doesn’t read “I Have To Walk To The Well To Get My Fresh Water.” Although now it seems, they too, would like to take a break from “themselves,” having let SNL and Arrested Development stars satirize their country-aesthetic cliches. Unfortunately, the move has poked a hole rather than poked fun.

The wagon wheel has spun full circle. And Mumford & Sons might have just accidentally, yet ironically, authentically, put the “Hopeless” and “Wanderer” into, well, “Hopeless Wanderer.”