I've been a fan most of my life. I still have, and play, Back Country Suite and Local Color which I bought - in mono - in 1958. We are losing too many great ones this year including wonderful poets like Leonard Cohen. Mose was a fine, sardonic lyric writer and his songs became more poignant in his later years. The NYT printed one of his last lyrics from the song "Was"
When I become was, and we become were
Will there be any sign or a trace
Of the lovely contour of your face?
And will there be someone around
With essentially my kind of sound?
RIP Mose. In my house, your sound will never be far from my turntable.