In 2011, three bands—Mumford & Sons, Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros, and Old Crow Medicine Show—boarded a vintage train in Oakland and headed east. They weren't just touring. They were attempting to recapture a ghost of an era that most of us only know through grainy photographs and old Woody Guthrie records. The result was Big Easy Express, a documentary directed by Emmett Malloy that feels less like a concert film and more like a fever dream of folk-rock Americana. It's raw.
If you’ve ever felt like modern music tours are a bit too "corporate," this movie is the antidote. It captures 2,500 miles of track, six stops, and a lot of whiskey. But honestly, the real magic isn't even in the performances on stage. It's in the dining cars and the narrow hallways where these musicians basically lived for a week.
The Big Easy Express: More Than Just a Tour
The concept was the "Railroad Revival Tour." You had the British folk-pop juggernaut of Mumford & Sons at the absolute peak of their Sigh No More fame. Then there was the sprawling, hippie-commune energy of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Finally, you had the foundational bluegrass grit of Old Crow Medicine Show. They didn't fly. They didn't take tour buses. They took fifteen vintage railcars from the 1940s, 50s, and 60s.
It was a logistical nightmare. Imagine trying to coordinate a moving village of musicians, roadies, and film crews across the American Southwest. Yet, Malloy somehow caught the quiet moments. You see Marcus Mumford and Alex Ebert (Edward Sharpe) just leaning against the train doors, watching the desert blur past. It’s those moments that make the Big Easy Express documentary stand out from the typical "rockumentary" fluff.
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What Most People Get Wrong About the Film
Some critics at the time dismissed it as a vanity project for the "vest-wearing folk" movement of the early 2010s. They were wrong. While the aesthetic is definitely heavy on the suspenders and banjos, the film captures a very real, very fleeting camaraderie. It wasn't staged for the cameras; the bands were actually writing songs together in the middle of the night while clicking over the tracks.
One of the most authentic scenes involves the bands stopping in a small town and joining a local high school marching band. It wasn't on the itinerary. It just... happened. That’s the "Big Easy" part of it—a looseness that you rarely see in a music industry defined by strict schedules and PR handlers.
The cinematography is stunning too. Emmett Malloy shot much of it on 16mm film. It gives the whole thing this warm, hazy glow that matches the dusty landscapes of Texas and Arizona. If you watch it today, it feels like a time capsule of a specific moment in indie music history before everything became hyper-digital.
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The Music That Defined the Journey
The setlist is a mix of the hits you’d expect—"The Cave" and "Home"—but the soul of the film lies in the collaborative tracks. When all three bands pile onto the stage for "This Train Is Bound For Glory," it’s loud. It's messy. It's beautiful.
Why the Train Mattered
Trains change the way you think. On a bus, you’re just on a highway that looks like every other highway. On a train, you’re cutting through the backyard of America. You see the rusted-out factories and the open plains.
- The train provided a literal "closed circuit" for creativity.
- Musicians couldn't escape to their hotel rooms.
- The rhythmic "clack-clack" of the rails actually influenced the tempo of the jam sessions.
- It forced a level of intimacy that a standard tour would never allow.
The Legacy of the Railroad Revival
Does the film hold up? Absolutely. Even if you aren't a massive fan of the "stomp and holler" era of folk, the documentary is a masterclass in atmosphere. It won the Grammy for Best Long Form Music Video in 2013, beating out some pretty heavy hitters. That’s because it’s a film about the joy of making things.
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The Big Easy Express documentary captures a specific American mythology. It’s the idea that you can just get on a train with your friends, leave the world behind, and play music until the sun comes up. It’s romanticized, sure. But in a world that feels increasingly fragmented, there’s something deeply satisfying about watching a group of people become a family over the course of a few thousand miles.
How to Experience This Properly Today
If you’re going to watch it, don’t just stream it on a tiny phone screen with crappy earbuds. This is a movie meant for a big screen and loud speakers. You need to hear the gravel in the voices and the creak of the train cars.
Actionable Next Steps for Fans
To truly appreciate what Malloy and these bands accomplished, you should dive deeper than just the 67-minute runtime.
- Seek out the soundtrack: There are live recordings from the Railroad Revival Tour that aren't in the film. The version of "Wagon Wheel" with all three bands is legendary for a reason.
- Watch "Festival Express" (2003): If you liked Big Easy Express, you have to see its spiritual predecessor. It features Janis Joplin, The Grateful Dead, and The Band on a train across Canada in 1970. It’s the blueprint.
- Check out Emmett Malloy’s other work: The director has a knack for capturing subcultures. Look into his surf films or his work with The White Stripes (Under Great White Northern Lights) to see how he handles music and movement.
- Listen to the "Austin to Boston" documentary: This followed a similar vibe but with vans instead of trains, featuring Ben Howard and Nathaniel Rateliff. It completes the "modern folk journey" trilogy.
The film ends at New Orleans' Union Passenger Terminal. The bands get off the train, sun-drenched and exhausted, and play one last show. Then it’s over. The train is decommissioned, the bands go their separate ways, and the tracks go silent. But the film remains a perfect, 16mm slice of what happens when you stop rushing and just let the rhythm of the rails take over.