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Wholesome (2016)

by Luis Mojica

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Scott Steven Erickson
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Scott Steven Erickson So glad I got cued into Luis's solo work thanks to Rasputina! Favorite track: Wholesome.
David Johnson
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David Johnson This is a beautiful, mystical treasure. Stark and haunting, honest and natural. Favorite track: Oh, The Beauty!.
Mo Fugly
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Mo Fugly I often find myself humming the melodies from this lovely, eclectic creation. I look forward to hearing from this man and his collaborators for years to come! Favorite track: Humming.
Viola Vane
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Viola Vane I discovered Luis Mojica through seeing him perform as part of Rasputina. His solo work is completely different, but no less powerful and engaging. This album is wistful, whimsical, and profound, and defies genre categorization. Favorite track: Bridgette Song.
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  • Full Digital Discography

    Get all 6 Luis Mojica releases available on Bandcamp and save 50%.

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of Songs From The Land, How A Stranger Is Made, Queen Song (shattered mirror mix), Wholesome (2016), The Man Who Fell In Love With The Man Who Fell In Love With The Moon (2015), and Anaesthesia (2013). , and , .

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  • Compact Disc & Booklet
    Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    A 6 panel eco pac with photos by Kelly Merchant, Nicholas Kahn, & Gregory Prescott. Includes album credits and lyrics.

    Includes unlimited streaming of Wholesome (2016) via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

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Conquered 02:55
I feel conquered up and down! I'm a dead man walking, No one talking, Dressed to impress the streets, Everyone is gawking, But no one is talking, No one is talking to me. The streets are quite, Yet filled with people, But no one is looking up, Their looking down at the dirty ground, Missing frowns and smiles from above. The coffee shops are full of love, For the glow of computer screens, No one is talking, They're not even my friends, But I miss their presence all the same. So I went down to the Village town, Hoping something would inspire me, But inspiration means renovation, And I refuse to live in memories! Replace your voice with the machine, And your face on the big screen, When your digital self is alive and well, What's left for your poor body? Freedom of speech is obsolete, If we throw out the mouthpiece, America chokes on her conquered throat, And we lost New York City. Until I listen close for that holy Ghost, From the mountain calling, And I dip my feet in its cold, blue stream, Til my heart beats emerald green. With a sage-burnt shell I cast a spell, And send my old hell far from me, From my catholic sins I am born again, Into Pagan ecstasy. And as I call in the East, I walk into the stream, And as I call in the South, I bring water to my mouth, And as I call in the West, The creek swallows my chest, And as I call in the North, I am swallowed by Her source!
Wholesome 05:24
The cellphone sidewalk is dangerous, The catwalk sidewalk is boring, Everyone's dressed to be noticed, But no one is even looking. I want to look wholesome, I want to feel wholesome, I want to sound more wholesome, I want to live a life more wholesome. Nevada City, I'm coming to taste your gold, Nevada City, Give me your amber glow. A ghost of New York City, Those bastards walked right through me, A no one even dare stop to gawk, Since the computer replaced the sidewalk. Well I just couldn't dig that frequency, So I chose to reject that machinery, And search for a less sterile scenery, Like naked bodies dancing in a cold, spring creek. I just want to grow wholesome, I just want to live wholesome, And when I die of old age, I want my chalk white bones to taste wholesome. For the birds and the bees, And the wild horses in the sea, And the roots of the trees, Growing down deep! Into the backbone of the beast, Into the spine of our country America the beautiful, My home! Her roots grow deep, Beneath my naked feet, I call her power into my bones! And she takes my swollen grief, And turns it into trees, America's spirit dances down my throat. Into my chest that beats, For Pagan liberty, The mountains of America are my home! Just leave me and my mountains alone! A deep-seeded mountain spirit, Sent forth to me a message, A whisper from the river, Amongst the sidewalk glamor clamor. It said the avant-garde is in the garden, Beauty is in the mountains, Freedom lives deep in the forest, Where the roots of trees grow lawless! I just want to live wholesome, I just want to feel wholesome, I want to eat more wholesome foods, I want to plant more wholesome roots. In Nevada City, Where the water is emerald green, But before I go to Nevada City. I'll try out the Plattekill creek.
Lady Bug 04:11
I found a ladybug, I found a girl, I saw a ladybug, I saw the world. Oh, how she glitters! Oh, how she spins! Oh, how to watch her swim through the trees is such a gift!
You crossed onto the other side, You never looked good as a bride. You were born with Stag Spirit, You waited your life to hear it, I knew that you were the answer to you, I knew that you never had a doubt, You were born without, Branches growing from your crown. Never had a doubt, I knew, That you were the answer to you. You crossed onto the side. You are a choir boy enthroned, The Moon shape shifts your woman bones, Well, what is more taboo? And what would make society scorn you more? Than for you to transition into animal form. And grow horns!
Humming 04:26
I had a dream, We drove away, To the islands, Of South Jersey, From a white Alpaca, Flowed a long, clean mane, And a peacock stood atop, A tall hill of grain, That glowed red with clovers, Before a sea of salt, We just pulled over, And turned the engine off. Then I woke up, Beneath a clean, white ceiling, And I walked into the kitchen, And poured a bowl of blueberries, They stained my tongue, They stained my lips, They stained every one of my white fingertips, And on my lap sat this black cat, With the Spirit of a bird, In the midst of a deep nap, Was when I first felt, then heard. That bird humming like mmm hmm. Softly. Then you sang a spell, Through the window in the kitchen, Pretty bird beaked baby, All of Brooklyn heard you singing, It traveled far until the Plattekill called back, Then we both laid naked, And took a short cat nap, And I thought maybe I had all along, Dreamt the whole song up, Till I awoke and found you humming, Beneath a ceiling newly caulked. Diatribe Baby. The hills, Are still, Burning, Not green. The chill, It Spills, Out from the creek, Into my bloodstream. Awakes new memories.
We want to take a bath, So we walk hand in hand, Half naked, Down to the water. Cold still we dive in, The you begin to swim, Pulling your body, With your hands. Oh, the beauty! Of the hills! Of the trees! Grown heavy with their fill of fruit. You can’t take this place away from me, Not with all the flowers falling from the vines, And all the blossoms are all yours and mine. Oh, I am flying!
How dare you complain about the man, When you buy and wear his clothes, You eat and drink his soup, How dare you complain about the man?
Dedication 05:02
Can you hear the mountains cry? Can you hear the river sigh? Can you help the white dove fly? Can you feel your forest die? I don’t know. Can you hear the Witch man yearning? Can you smell the White Sage burning? Have you seen the sweet grass growing? Can you feel your green wheel turning? I don’t know. Why can’t you feel your mountains cry? Why can’t you hear the river sigh? Why can’t you help the white dove fly? Why can’t you feel your forest die? I don’t know! A bird's nest in her hair, The dedicated Pagan, Plastic in her ears, The dedicated Consumer. A crucifix in his palm, The dedicated Christian, A computer chip in his palm, The dedicated Consumer. A typewrite on my desk, I’m a dedicated beatnik, A laptop on my chest, A dedicated consumer. A baby on her breast, The dedicated mother, A stroller for her phone to rest, The dedicated consumer. I thirst for conversation, I’m a dedicated intellectual, Lost in a generation, Of dedicated consuming fools. I’ve fallen down ahead, Calling for someone to help me out, But in everybody’s head, A plastic spell to smother the shout. Cause if it pugs in they think it brings them life, If it plugs in in the middle of the night, If it plugs in they think it brings them life, Screen keeps them warm in the middle of the night. A tender loving heart, The dedicated human, All alone in the dark, The dedicated consumer.
Black Magick 06:10
Hard silicon flying out of town, 
Hits the wild barred owl,
 It's Fall, 
It's falling like a leaf,
 Who do the black crows think they are,
 To be cawing at this tragedy? 

Do they laugh?
 Do they cry? 
With so much black magic, 
It's hard not to go blind.

 I follow up the platte clove hill,
 The mountains are so big and still, 
It's Fall,
 I'm falling like a leaf,
 Into the cold platte kill creek,
 You can almost feel it in the air, 
Death is everywhere.

 Do I laugh? 
Do I cry?
 When so much black magick,
 Can force you to go blind. 

Falling like the leaves, 
That wild barred owl, 
Hits the cold black street while Fall wind howl,
 Only to be picked up and dismantled,
 By the Indian woman-man,
 Who brings its wings to me, 
Then he/they up and flew away. 

I promise to save your wild barred wings,
 I'll resurrect them a place to sing, 
Behind my ear, 
So that I may always hear them. 

Walk the platte clove,
 With your eyes closed,
 Don't you fear the night! 

The black magick, 
Can consume you,
 Even in the light!
Does Not 04:30
Up Above Fallen Seas Man Bestows More Disease Can you feel it on my hands Running through the grains of sand As Above, So Below For some reason they don't know Blind ambition stands before Ancient wisdom out the door. They moved the trees, The trees moved not, A sadness moves, Above. Deep in the ground, It does not, It will not, It cannot, Move.


The debut studio album by Luis Mojica featuring Melora Creager of Rasputina & (half of The Dresden Dolls) Brian Viglione on drums. The album is a string of piano-based songs that tell the story of the artist's exodus from the city to the mountains. The record uses baroque themes, beat boxing, vocal looping, and instruments such as singing saw and electric violins to create unique sonic landscapes that paint the picture of each song's story and emotion. Other instruments include saxophone, cello, oboe, flute, accordion, & a myriad of vocal harmonies that are, both, choir-like and haunting.


released July 31, 2016

Recorded by Jason Sarubbi & Luis Mojica.
Mixed by Jason Sarubbi.
Mastered by Mike Tierney
Album design by Erin Papa (Turning Mill Studio in Palenville, NY)
Cover photo Kelly Merchant & hand painted plant shield by Caitlin Parker.
Back cover photo "Bog Man" by Nicholas Kahn.
Inner sleeve black and white photo by Gregory Prescott.
All songs are written and performed by Luis Mojica.


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Luis Mojica Woodstock, New York

"From chamber pop to indie to a quasi-baroque style all bundled within the mind of a genius"

- Jammerzine

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