My name is Todd Mosier. Here are some nuggets of music and wisdom.

8th January 2011

Video

This song was written in Argentina in April of 2010, and is the only song i’ve ever written on my churrango.  What’s a churrango, you ask? It’s a fantastic little 10-string guitar that used to be made out of an armadillo shell, mostly found in Bolivia.  It’s a crazy instrument.

I recorded this in Idaho, when I was completely without a microphone.  Thankfully, I had a guitar pickup and a video camera, which had a microphone built in.  So… I figured I’d just put together the entire thing as a video instead of my normal audio-only style.

Listening to it again, however, really makes me want to re-record it, now that my studio setup is up and running again.

T

Tagged: idahowhite knuckle lovechurrango

8th January 2011

Question

tumblrbot asked: WHAT IS YOUR EARLIEST HUMAN MEMORY?

Dropping a very large rock on my foot.  Ouch.

10th December 2010

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For those who were on the overlander with me through Africa in October 2008, or heard me play in Stellenbosch at Rozendal, you may remember this song.  I wrote it in bits and pieces, finishing it in Namibia, then continued to polish it for two years.  This is what came from all that.

I don’t normally put my lyrics up, but this song has been brewing for so long that it just seems appropriate.

Gorillas / This Storm Is My Shelter

Written: October 2008
Recorded: December 2010

Gorillas in the mountaintops with their cellphones and pagers say, “Hey, buddy,  Bwindi is beautiful.”
But down along the valley, those high heeled walkers and nicotine talkers head straight for the trees.
Mourning Dove in evening wear prepares a debutant ball in the summer of savannah.
Invites are posted with parrafin and ivory with repondez s’il vous plait enclosed.
But Thomas P’s V says, “It’s not me who cannot RSVP.  It’s gravity’s rainbow on a summer sky.”
'Cause the DRC is burning now, the DRC is burning now.  The haze is on the horizon is a string around your finger.”
But Lillian makes love despite, despite, the laws of the land in the hours after midnight.

Don’t tell me we lack hope, I don’t think you understand.
There’s more than blood and sweat and tears.  There’s years of toil and struggle here.
I won’t move off.  I won’t back down.  You cannot move me from my land.
This storm is my shelter.  This storm is my shelter, though we’re in the eye.

Forward marching trees are lashed at and cut back by the secretary general’s circumspect attack.
C-Suite hyenas with multiple subpeonas call for the election of the puppet man.
But flatdogs rule the roost, declare the law of the land, with their collar stays in and those machetes in hand.
But Lillian makes love despite, despite, the laws of the land in the hours after midnight.

Don’t tell me we lack hope, I don’t think you understand.
There’s more than blood, sweat and tears.  There’s years of toil and struggle here.
I won’t move off.  I won’t back down.  You cannot move me from my land.
This storm is my shelter.  This storm is my shelter, though we’re in the eye.

30th November 2010

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This is my latest song, Make me feel like an Angel.  It was actually the first song I wrote in Durham.  It’s also the only song I’ve written in Durham so far.

Oh well.  Let the muse roll.

T

17th October 2010

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New Favorite Song

This is the first song I recorded in my new studio in Durham.  It’s a little quiet, but I still like it.