Charlie Mosbrook

"Charlie Mosbrook has hosted open mics and performed his soft-spoken acoustic music with local acts for the past 16 years. Over that time, he's recorded five albums and has had the opportunity to perform with the likes of Jewel and Big Head Todd and the Monsters. His latest album, Nothing is Clear, again features his warm delivery. Songs like Nothing but You and Loveand Disappointment tell h eartfelt stories and are backed with quiet acoustic melodies, uplifting songs such as Feed My Soul and Rearrange the Focus deliver a much-needed dose of energy to the album. Instrumental songs such as The Walk Home and Message are also highlights " - Cleveland Free Times

Charlie Mosbrook has been a constant presence in Cleveland’s folk/acoustic/singer-songwriter/open mic scene for 25 years now. The relationships and the respect he’s built are showcased on his latest album (his 10th), Something to Believe, with contributions from an array of talented area players. Why he’s built those relationships and that respect is showcased in the well-written tunes and in Mosbrook’s unaffected and affecting performances of them.

The album’s 12 tunes are full of soul-searching sentiments and lilting melodies that have an instant familiarity, well-served by the arrangements that, even when relatively complex, still have a spontaneous, friends-jamming-with-friends feel.

One of Mosbrook’s friends, Steve Inglish (once known on the blues circuit here as Mr. Downchild), kicks off the disc with a blast of harmonica, leading into the title tune whose gentle, bluesy melody and statement of purpose are accented throughout by Inglish’s harmonica and Greg Alan Reese’s banjo.

From there, the album moves smoothly through a series of high and low moods. Introspective tunes like “A World Not Seen,” and the lonely “Erie Shore,” which make you feel like you’re eavesdropping on someone thinking out loud, contrast with the more expansive “Something to Lose” and “Hand Me Down My Walking Cane,” the album’s only non-original song. Mosbrook, with Bill Lestock pitching in on fiddle, has transformed it into the sort of jaunty Celtic-style outing that gets coffeehouse crowds clapping and singing along. And “Shining Through” feels like a standard in the making — a generous love song that could be a jumping-off for a multitude of interpretations and arrangements.

The back-to-back “Blame” and “Creepy” offer two different attitudes toward self-examination. On the former, Abbey Blake’s serves almost as a conscience to Mosbrook’s lyric, as the idea of who’s to blame here seems to keep shifting, and it’s never clear whether the narrator is accepting blame or passing the buck. The airy “Creepy” injects some humor as it explores ideas of self-presentation and self-image, with lyrics like “I’m not as creepy as I feel right now.”

The album’s last three songs illustrate how much range Mosbrook has within the seemingly limited confines of the acoustic singer-songwriter genre. “Crook Stick” references the spinal injury he suffered a few years ago and his use of medical marijuana to relieve his pain. It’s not a polemic but a plain-spoken expression of personal experience.

He lightens the mood with the spirited drinking song “I Will Be Coming Home to You” which asserts, “Once I’m off the floor/I sweat I will have no more/I will be coming home to you.” It features lively harmonica from Inglish and vocal and guitar contributions from another talented area folkie and friend of Mosbrook’s, Avin Loki Baird. “January Sky” changes things up again, its sober but hopeful reflectiveness underscored by cello, a chorus of female harmony vocals, and a delicate filigree of trumpet. - Cool Cleveland

Charlie Mosbrook has been a constant presence in Cleveland’s folk/acoustic/singer-songwriter/open mic scene for 25 years now. The relationships and the respect he’s built are showcased on his latest album (his 10th), Something to Believe, with contributions from an array of talented area players. Why he’s built those relationships and that respect is showcased in the well-written tunes and in Mosbrook’s unaffected and affecting performances of them.

The album’s 12 tunes are full of soul-searching sentiments and lilting melodies that have an instant familiarity, well-served by the arrangements that, even when relatively complex, still have a spontaneous, friends-jamming-with-friends feel.

One of Mosbrook’s friends, Steve Inglish (once known on the blues circuit here as Mr. Downchild), kicks off the disc with a blast of harmonica, leading into the title tune whose gentle, bluesy melody and statement of purpose are accented throughout by Inglish’s harmonica and Greg Alan Reese’s banjo.

From there, the album moves smoothly through a series of high and low moods. Introspective tunes like “A World Not Seen,” and the lonely “Erie Shore,” which make you feel like you’re eavesdropping on someone thinking out loud, contrast with the more expansive “Something to Lose” and “Hand Me Down My Walking Cane,” the album’s only non-original song. Mosbrook, with Bill Lestock pitching in on fiddle, has transformed it into the sort of jaunty Celtic-style outing that gets coffeehouse crowds clapping and singing along. And “Shining Through” feels like a standard in the making — a generous love song that could be a jumping-off for a multitude of interpretations and arrangements.

The back-to-back “Blame” and “Creepy” offer two different attitudes toward self-examination. On the former, Abbey Blake’s serves almost as a conscience to Mosbrook’s lyric, as the idea of who’s to blame here seems to keep shifting, and it’s never clear whether the narrator is accepting blame or passing the buck. The airy “Creepy” injects some humor as it explores ideas of self-presentation and self-image, with lyrics like “I’m not as creepy as I feel right now.”

The album’s last three songs illustrate how much range Mosbrook has within the seemingly limited confines of the acoustic singer-songwriter genre. “Crook Stick” references the spinal injury he suffered a few years ago and his use of medical marijuana to relieve his pain. It’s not a polemic but a plain-spoken expression of personal experience.

He lightens the mood with the spirited drinking song “I Will Be Coming Home to You” which asserts, “Once I’m off the floor/I sweat I will have no more/I will be coming home to you.” It features lively harmonica from Inglish and vocal and guitar contributions from another talented area folkie and friend of Mosbrook’s, Avin Loki Baird. “January Sky” changes things up again, its sober but hopeful reflectiveness underscored by cello, a chorus of female harmony vocals, and a delicate filigree of trumpet. - Cool Cleveland

On the opening title track, singer-guitarist Charlie Mosbrook sings, "we all need something to believe" with a good deal of vigor, injecting some real life into the track with his spirited harmonica wails. It's a testament to his talent that Mosbrook, a veteran on the local folk-rock scene who became a quadriplegic in 2010, sounds this inspired this late in his career. He's described this collection of sparse tunes as "new songs for the 19th century," but the songs don't sound that archaic. "A World Not Seen" and "Shining Through" have a '70s vibe to them and evoke Cat Stevens and they're such great songs, it doesn't matter if they don't fit with the new folk-rock fad. — Jeff Niesel - Scene /Cleveland

On the opening title track, singer-guitarist Charlie Mosbrook sings, "we all need something to believe" with a good deal of vigor, injecting some real life into the track with his spirited harmonica wails. It's a testament to his talent that Mosbrook, a veteran on the local folk-rock scene who became a quadriplegic in 2010, sounds this inspired this late in his career. He's described this collection of sparse tunes as "new songs for the 19th century," but the songs don't sound that archaic. "A World Not Seen" and "Shining Through" have a '70s vibe to them and evoke Cat Stevens and they're such great songs, it doesn't matter if they don't fit with the new folk-rock fad. — Jeff Niesel - Scene /Cleveland

I guess you could call Charlie Mosbrook a Northeast Ohio institution, although he might disagree. The singer-songwriter has been around for quite some time (this is his tenth release). He is certainly well-respected in the musical community, having had a tribute album done by other area artists (Coverage: The Songs of Charlie Mosbrook). He calls himself a traditionalist, influenced initially by Woody Guthrie and Bob Dylan, later by Doc Watson, John Hartford, and others, and you can hear this in his style. I like his voice; he’s got a soft baritone that’s easy on the ear. His latest album continues his legacy in fine fashion, with eleven new songs and one cover.


Something to Believe does nearly all the things I want to hear in a folk album. It’s simple (deceptively so, I think), straightforward, displaying a range of emotions, well-sung, with excellent but understated instrumentation and harmonies (although showing off here wouldn’t be a bad thing either). And the songs are high-quality, with good lyrics and no self-righteous preaching. The title track is a good strong opener, with harmonica provided by Steve (Steev?) Inglish (sometimes known as Mr. Downchild) and an uptempo bluesy feel. From there, the moods shift back and forth song by song. “A World not Seen” is more contemplative, some thoughts about the nature of our perceptions. Next we have a trio of duets with female accomplices, “Blame,” dealing with nastier aspects of love in a rather jaunty manner, and “Creepy,” with love of the more unrequited variety. “Shining Through” is also about love but a lot about hope too, and “Erie Shore” puts us in the right location, but in a rather defeated mood.

The second half of the album begins with the only cover, “Hand Me Down My Walking Cane,” an uptempo tune with a downbeat (but funny) lyric and some fine fiddle work by Bill Lestock. “Listen to a Woman” and “Something to Lose” both provide some good advice for those who might need it. Mosbrook goes autobiographical with “Crooked Stick,” singing of dealing with his spinal cord injury in a heartfelt way, without being maudlin or self-pitying. I hope “I Will be Coming Home to You” isn’t autobiographical, as it deals with heavy drinking. The final track is appropriate for Northeast Ohio, a paean to the slowly brightening days of January that might have deeper meanings.

The musicianship and singing on the album is uniformly excellent, the various folks helping Mosbrook doing a fine job all around. I hope that he gets around to making ten more albums, if they display this level of quality.

Personnel: Charlie Mosbrook (guitar, bass, vocals), with assistance on selected tracks by Bill Lestock (fiddle, mandolin, guitar), Avin Loki Baird (guitar, vocals), Shelby Lynn Sangdahl (cello), Cindy Langmack (vocals), Matt Harmon (guitar, vocals), Greg Alan Reese (banjo), Steev Inglish (harmonica), J. Scott Franklin (trumpet), Abbey Blake (vocals), Xe La (bass, vocals).
Tracks: Something to Believe, A World not Seen, Blame, Creepy, Shining Through, Erie Shore, Hand Me Down My Walking Cane, Listen to a Woman, Something to Lose, Crooked Stick, I Will be Coming Home to You, January Sky. - Buzzard Tracks: Northeast Ohio Music News and Reviews

By the time Charlie Mosbrook took his seat on a stool behind the microphone, the crowd at the shelter had swelled to about two dozen. That doesn't sound like a lot of people, but for a house concert, that's a pretty good turnout, especially when one considers that it was basically advertised via Facebook and word of mouth. I had never heard of Mosbrook until Brennan turned me on to his recent CD Something To Believe, which beautifully demonstrates Mosbrook's gift for both words and melody.
While he has a sound all his own, were I pressed to compare Mosbrook's sound to someone else's, I suppose I'd go with a little James Taylor mixed with a liberal dose of early Cat Stevens. It's mellow, beautiful, heartfelt stuff, and I'm still listening to the CD months after it was given to me.
Mosbrook's backstory is interesting too. He's a former triathlete who suffered a spinal injury and is an incomplete quadripaligic. Through determination and hard work he can now walk with the aid of a cane and can still play guitar, but for a guy who used to enter Ironman competitions, after the injury Mosbrook had to find something else to throw himself into. Fortunately, he was already an accomplished musician, and the injury only seemed to strengthen his drive to create his art.



At Thursday evening's show, the very soft-spoken musician held those two-dozen men, women, and children entranced as he played song after beautiful song. He did several off of his latest, but he also dug deeper into his catalog. By the time he wrapped things up by 8 p.m., it was evident that there had been a majorly cosmic connection between Mosbrook and us.
I know that may sound corny, but I don't know how better to describe it. I feel like a better person for having heard the guy sing in person, and Mosbrook seemed genuinely touched at the folks that took the time on a weekday evening to come hear him play. It goes back to what I said at the start of this piece, about how an artist can feed off a crowd and vice-versa. All in all it was a very beneficial evening all around. - Charleston Grit

By the time Charlie Mosbrook took his seat on a stool behind the microphone, the crowd at the shelter had swelled to about two dozen. That doesn't sound like a lot of people, but for a house concert, that's a pretty good turnout, especially when one considers that it was basically advertised via Facebook and word of mouth. I had never heard of Mosbrook until Brennan turned me on to his recent CD Something To Believe, which beautifully demonstrates Mosbrook's gift for both words and melody.
While he has a sound all his own, were I pressed to compare Mosbrook's sound to someone else's, I suppose I'd go with a little James Taylor mixed with a liberal dose of early Cat Stevens. It's mellow, beautiful, heartfelt stuff, and I'm still listening to the CD months after it was given to me.
Mosbrook's backstory is interesting too. He's a former triathlete who suffered a spinal injury and is an incomplete quadripaligic. Through determination and hard work he can now walk with the aid of a cane and can still play guitar, but for a guy who used to enter Ironman competitions, after the injury Mosbrook had to find something else to throw himself into. Fortunately, he was already an accomplished musician, and the injury only seemed to strengthen his drive to create his art.



At Thursday evening's show, the very soft-spoken musician held those two-dozen men, women, and children entranced as he played song after beautiful song. He did several off of his latest, but he also dug deeper into his catalog. By the time he wrapped things up by 8 p.m., it was evident that there had been a majorly cosmic connection between Mosbrook and us.
I know that may sound corny, but I don't know how better to describe it. I feel like a better person for having heard the guy sing in person, and Mosbrook seemed genuinely touched at the folks that took the time on a weekday evening to come hear him play. It goes back to what I said at the start of this piece, about how an artist can feed off a crowd and vice-versa. All in all it was a very beneficial evening all around. - Charleston Grit

The human ear is a pretty miraculous thing. It picks up vibrations in the air and delivers them to the brain as sound.

When music is the source of those vibrations, it’s possible for that sound to remind the listener of something they’ve heard before.

Upon hearing “Something to Believe” by singer-songwriter Charlie Mosbrook, I was struck by the confident yet melodic sound of his singing voice. That voice reminds me of similarly masculine folk voices of the past, such as Kris Kristofferson, Jim Croce and Gordon Lightfoot.

Mosbrook’s songwriting is original, though, from the excellent “Listen to a Woman” to “Creepy,” a clever song of a love hidden away.

Mosbrook was diagnosed with a progressive spinal disorder that left him an incomplete quadriplegic a few years back. Despite the physical limitations, Mosbrook has continued to write, record and tour. The song “Crooked Stick” examines his disability, but not in a self-pitying manner.

The title track is another one of the album’s better songs, and it has a great old-time folk feel to it.

Mosbrook has an impressive list of guest artists who play on the album with him, including harmonica player Steev Inglish, mandolin player Bill Lestock and vocalist Cindy Langmack.

The collection of a dozen songs will appeal to anyone who enjoys good acoustic folk or Americana.

Key Tracks: “Something to Believe,” “Creepy,” “Listen to a Woman”
- Charleston Scene

here’s a familiar comfortable feeling that comes over you when you listen to the music of Charlie Mosbrook. The guy has a rich, worldly voice that sounds like it was broken in slowly, like a well-loved instrument. Take a little Kris Kristofferson, a bit of Jim Croce, and perhaps a smidgen of Gordon Lightfoot, and you’ll start to get an idea of his sound. On his latest release, “Something To Believe,” Mosbrook delivers a dozen songs, almost all of which are beautifully rich in their simplicity. The folky sound that makes up the album owes just as much to Mosbrook’s guitar and bass playing as it does his easygoing vocals. The singer-songwriter also gets assistance from nearly a dozen other artists, including Avin Loki Baird, Shely Lynn Sangdahl, Greg Alan Reece, and Steev Inglish.

The album opens with it’s title track, which features Mosbrook singing over Reece’s banjo picking and Inglish’s harmonica. The song has the sort of old-time groove that would delight T Bone Burnett were he searching for more music for his latest film project. “A World Not Seen” finds Mosbrook channeling a bit of Neil Diamond (not the cheesy “Love on the Rocks” Neil, but rather the guy who masterfully wrote “Solitary Man”). “Creepy” makes good use of Bill Lestock’s mandolin and Cindy Langmack’s backing vocals on a tune that tells the story of love unrequited. The album’s catchiest song, “Listen To A Woman,” features Mosbrook singing the praises of the fairer sex, while backed by Leestock, Langmack, and Sangdahl.

The quality of the music is even more amazing when one considers the fact that Mosbrook is an incomplete quadrapaligic. He even sings about the fact on “Crooked Stick.” The condition doesn’t seem to have slowed the musician down; quite the opposite in fact. Still, while some musicians feel the need to all but beat the listener over the head with their talent, Mosbrook chooses a different approach, inviting anyone who cares to pause and take in a song or two. Chances are that even listeners who don't necessarily gravitate toward folk music will find something to like here. - No Depression

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Just after 6 a.m. on a Sunday morning, light-gray storm clouds gather in the pre-dawn summer sky. In his small, Cleveland Heights apartment overlooking Coventry Road, Charlie Mosbrook is getting ready for his first triathlon in more than two years.
He showers, eats a light breakfast of mixed berries and yogurt, and gathers his gear for the day -- a bright yellow swim cap, a lightweight beach towel, and a pair of tinted swim goggles.
In just under two hours, Mosbrook will be in the waters of Lake Erie, racing against scores of athletes in the 500-meter swimming leg of the Pirate Triathlon.
But first he must face a different kind of challenge: the apartment stairs.
Spinal cord damage isn't something you plan for. But when an unexpected turn of events forced Mosbrook to put his athletic pursuits on hold, he chose not to dwell on personal tragedy. Instead, he channeled his energy into creative expression.
"It's been an incredible journey," said the 43-year-old Mosbrook, a musician who was voted Best Singer-Songwriter in Scene Magazine's 2011 reader poll.
"You take two steps forward one day and one step back the next. But whether it's music or walking, you have to have the same attitude. Never quit."
Mosbrook was born and raised in Cleveland Heights, the son of local TV reporter and jazz enthusiast Joe Mosbrook. Like his father, Mosbrook was drawn to music, becoming a fairly well-known musician in the local folk-music scene in the mid-1990s, hosting hundreds of open-mike nights in his hometown over a 20-year period.
"Charlie's the kind of guy that everyone knows but no one knows of," said Mosbrook's former bandmate Tim Brennan. "He gave a lot of the young musicians in the area their start, and he always gave everyone the same respect no matter how green they were. But he was never very good at self-promotion. I mean there aren't many guys who would keep doing open mikes for two decades."
Yet around 2006, Mosbrook began to feel disillusioned with the local music scene. He decided to take a break from performing to focus on training for Ironman Triathlons --endurance events consisting of a consecutive 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike race and 26.2-mile run.
Mosbrook began running 20 to 30 miles per week, building up over the course of several months to Ironman levels and distances. After a couple of years, he had successfully completed two Ironman competitions and was in the best shape of his life -- at least on the outside. Yet, something didn't feel right.
In the fall of 2009 Mosbrook started noticing a tingling sensation that radiated down the back side of his leg when he ran. It didn't hurt exactly -- he was used to experiencing some degree of pain due to his training -- just different.
"It felt wrong," Mosbrook said. "It was like electricity."
Mosbrook didn't seriously worry until a month or so later when his feet started dropping when he ran, his toes sometimes refusing to lift up off the pavement. Then his ankles began turning in randomly, his muscles locked up in knots.
"My first thought was, 'I have MS,' " Mosbrook said, "but then I shrugged that off. Denial is powerful. You don't want to believe anything is wrong."
It was only after a fellow athlete commented on the strangeness of his gait that Mosbrook went to the Cleveland Clinic. There, specialists ran nerve tests, including poking him with a sharp pin to gauge his reaction to sensation.
The results were dramatic: Mosbrook had lost considerable feeling from the middle of his chest down.
"It was frightening and fascinating at the same time," said Mosbrook, who still lacks the ability to detect fine sensation on the lower parts of his body. "They say I'll never get that feeling back."
Mosbrook was finally diagnosed in early March 2010 with compression to his cervical spine due to degeneration of the discs between his fifth and sixth vertebrae. While it's normal for the intervertebral discs -- strong yet flexible pieces of fibrocartilage that act like shock absorbers for the spinal cord -- to wear down with age, Mosbrook's case was fairly advanced for a man in his early 40s, said his doctor, Thomas Mroz.
"Intervertebral disc degeneration starts in our teens and 20s, but it usually doesn't become a problem until our 60s or 70s," Mroz said. "As this happens, the disc bulges out into the spine, and the spinal cord starts to malfunction, leading to problems like loss of balance and dexterity."
The higher up the spinal cord damage, the more neurological functions a patient could potentially lose, Mroz said, explaining that the major nerves of the body branch off the spinal cord at each junction.
Mosbrook needed surgery to prevent any further disc degeneration, which by this point was so severe that he was unable to get out of bed without struggling.
If Mosbrook didn't have surgery, Mroz told him, he could lose his ability to move his hands, walk or control his bladder.
"That's when I knew it wasn't a choice," Mosbrook sai - Cleveland Plain Dealer