COVERAGE
The Songs of Charlie Mosbrook
A musical collaborative
A musical collaborative
Sing Out
Robert Loss
About “Sing Out”
As a performer, songwriter and emcee of the popular open mic at the Coventry Arabica, Charlie Mosbrook was a vital influence on me as a young musician. Charlie was always supportive, offering tips on how to get shows, pointing out lyrics and melodies he liked, and for these reasons and many more, he was one of my first examples of how a musician could be compassionate, alert, and open to the community and its music. His was never a competitive nature, except in the way musicians should be competitive: you admire and praise talent, learn from it, then get yourself back to woodshed and get to work. For the five years I lived in the area, Charlie's songs and the open mics he hosted sent me back to the woodshed.
I may have heard Charlie perform “Sing Out” as early as 1996, but it doesn’t really matter when, because this is a timeless song, the kind that you feel certain has existed for at least decades despite its raw emotion and topicality. Some of its language would not be out of place in union songs of the early twentieth century, and the phrase “I wanna fly away” is code, immediately calling to mind old-time folk and black spirituals and gospel. There’s always been a strong current of spirituality in Charlie’s music, but one of the unique things about this song is the way spirit—faith, hope, belief of many kinds—is married to politics. This isn’t a song that runs away from this world for the next. What we hoped to get into the performance here is what Paul Tillich was talking about when he said “Courage is the power of life to affirm itself in spite of [its own] ambiguity”. That’s what I’ve heard in this song for many years, and it’s in the Erika Carey’s keening accordion and Jim Volk’s feral slide guitar: hope in spite of suffering, resistance in spite of oppression, the courage to sing out in spite of one’s own fears and uncertainty.
About “Sing Out”
As a performer, songwriter and emcee of the popular open mic at the Coventry Arabica, Charlie Mosbrook was a vital influence on me as a young musician. Charlie was always supportive, offering tips on how to get shows, pointing out lyrics and melodies he liked, and for these reasons and many more, he was one of my first examples of how a musician could be compassionate, alert, and open to the community and its music. His was never a competitive nature, except in the way musicians should be competitive: you admire and praise talent, learn from it, then get yourself back to woodshed and get to work. For the five years I lived in the area, Charlie's songs and the open mics he hosted sent me back to the woodshed.
I may have heard Charlie perform “Sing Out” as early as 1996, but it doesn’t really matter when, because this is a timeless song, the kind that you feel certain has existed for at least decades despite its raw emotion and topicality. Some of its language would not be out of place in union songs of the early twentieth century, and the phrase “I wanna fly away” is code, immediately calling to mind old-time folk and black spirituals and gospel. There’s always been a strong current of spirituality in Charlie’s music, but one of the unique things about this song is the way spirit—faith, hope, belief of many kinds—is married to politics. This isn’t a song that runs away from this world for the next. What we hoped to get into the performance here is what Paul Tillich was talking about when he said “Courage is the power of life to affirm itself in spite of [its own] ambiguity”. That’s what I’ve heard in this song for many years, and it’s in the Erika Carey’s keening accordion and Jim Volk’s feral slide guitar: hope in spite of suffering, resistance in spite of oppression, the courage to sing out in spite of one’s own fears and uncertainty.
