“Why does a bird sing? It sings because it has a song”

Kàsh Mojo is an outsider. He’s not like you. And he’s not like me either . . . far out from the couture cutting displays and bohemian hipsteratti encampments of the New York’s and the LAs or the nouveau riche Austin’s, Kàsh Mojo (Kàsh, pronounced KHA-sh, the backward apostrophe is a grave mark supposed to indicate a lower sounding vowel) is book-bound to the New Mexico legal system. An earnest man trying to make a living in that notoriously chimeric and famously dishonest appendage of Americanism: the justice system. Much like John Prine or Bill Withers before him, inhabiting an everyman quality is not just some function of the characters in his songs, it’s who he is. There’s a plainspoken and unencumbered approach to Mojo’s writing that pretty much disarms any pretense of trying to be cloy or smart or even worse, disingenuous. 

A stranger in a strange land storyteller like Lee Hazelwood, Jim Sullivan, and even Neil Diamond before him, Mojo plaintively speaks and sings while a whip-tight band finesses dynamics between big and bombastic to relaxed and pastoral, heavy to light and nimble, dramatic pose to a comedy of errors. Kàsh’s baritone lends an almost Pavarotti-like theatricality but the wares are Jim Morrison. Drawing inspiration not just from outside folk artists with a flair for production, Mojo also enthusiastically recognizes contemporary influences of artists like M. Ward and Jim James. “Ward is present in my writing” he goes on before describing his love of blues too, “I wrote almost the whole record in open tunings just playing alone for hours.”  He also feels a special kinship with other contemporary artists such as the late Diane Izzo and Bill Powerless, the latter of whom actually co-wrote the song, “No Longer Grey” on Mojo’s debut LP. 

During the pandemic, Kàsh Mojo built up a core team with Austin, Texas producer Bryan Ray, and bassist/coproducer Bill Stevenson. The trio made demos from roughs he’d recorded and over the course of two separate prolonged sessions a year apart from one another, the album came together. The first session in Albuquerque yielded an important vision for Kàsh; the second, a year later in Austin, yielded the results. Joining the ensemble with Mojo, Ray and Stevenson was Andy Nixon on drums, Joseph Woullard on woodwinds, Adam Johnson on guitar on a few tracks as well as Catherine Parker providing backup vocals. Mojo was also backed by his bandmate in the Americana duo The Light Workers, Anne Luna, who provided bowed cello and upright bass as well as backup vocals on the haunting Scars.  Behind the boards and the mics was Grammy-award-winning engineer, Stuart Sikes. 

Kàsh Mojo’s debut single Galveston Gone tells the tale of another pensive songwriter, Townes Van Zandt.  Mojo’s booming baritone voice croons of love, opportunities, and memories lost in Townes’ tumultuous life.  Juxtaposed with the heavy subject matter, the tune grooves easily over a catchy bassline and scorching baritone saxophone and guitar solos.  

Kàsh’s upcoming second single, Cow (a cover of another beloved influence of his, Sparklehorse slated for release in late 2022) goes big. In Cow, Mojo lays out the vocal in deep and soulful declarations between the cardiac pulse of the rhythm section and the sheering flying guitars.  The slow build post-rock crescendo takes the listener someplace new yet seemingly familiar.  Other songs, like the strikingly spacious Last Life and sweeping Colorado, provide the gravitas and breadth that this otherwise unassuming, humble storyteller is capable of.  The Kàsh Mojo debut LP, entitled Buried or Replaced drops in 2023.