Posts Tagged ‘Magnolia Electric Co’

January 2020 Secretly Society release on blue dream splash vinyl.

On a rare day off during Magnolia Electric Co.’s 2005 European tour, a pair of fans in the south of France convinced Jason Molina to abandon the promise of leisure to play a show in an old church in Toulouse. Now, fifteen years later, the result is making its way into the world for the first time via “Live at La Chapelle”, an 11-track album of Molina’s performance at the former church squatted and converted into a hub for the arts.

Recorded with just a static microphone and a minidisc on June 7th, 2005, in front of a reverent crowd of 200, Live at La Chapelle is aglow with the hushed murmurs and whispers of an engrossed audience, of Molina’s stripped-back performance reverberating to the rafters. The neighbours’ penchant for calling the police with noise complaints meant acoustic shows only, so Molina split the difference and came with his electric guitar, choirboy voice, and Magnolia Electric Co. member Michael Kapinus’ occasionally guesting on trumpet.

The sparse record finally made its way Secretly Canadian in 2014, and six years later, as part of the process of unearthing work from the extensive Molina archive, Live at La Chapelle will finally be widely heard.

Here, Molina remarks some of his canonical work as well as the more obscure, deeper cuts in the special environment of La Chapelle. Nowhere better to hear a solo performance of Jason Molina’s catalogue than in a house of worship, a cavernous structure with ceilings nearly high enough to contain the impossible reach a holy, lonesome voice, Recorded with just a static microphone and a minidisc on June 7th, 2005, in front of a reverent crowd of 200, Live at La Chapelle is aglow with the hushed murmurs and whispers of an engrossed audience, of Molina’s stripped-back performance reverberating to the rafters.

Here, Molina remarks some of his canonical work as well as the more obscure, deeper cuts in the special environment of La Chapelle. Nowhere better to hear a solo performance of Jason Molina’s catalogue than in a house of worship, a cavernous structure with ceilings nearly high enough to contain the impossible reach a holy, lonesome voice.

Track Listings: East St. Louis Blues Trouble In Mind 31 Seasons in the Minor Leagues Carmelita Montgomery Hold on Magnolia In the Human World Bowery Nashville Moon Leave the City I’ve Been Riding With the Ghost

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Secretly Canadian is proud to present the Sojourner boxset. It is the accumulated work of thirteen musicians, five locations, four recording engineers, three filmmakers, two designers and one songwriter, including enough material for three full lengths, one EP and one DVD. The boxset includes 4 CDs a DVD, a poster, postcards and a medallion.

The four CDs that are included in the boxset are from four distinct recording sessions that Magnolia Electric Co recorded following the release of their debut studio album What Comes After The Blues. The session known as Nashville Moon was recorded by Steve Albini at his Electrical Audio studios in Chicago, Illinois. The session known as Sun Sessions was recorded at the legendary Sun Studios in Memphis, Tennessee. The session known as Black Ram was recorded by David Lowery at his Sound Of Music studios in Richmond, Virginia and features an entirely different cast of characters including Lowery, Rick Alverson, Andrew Bird, Molly Blackbird, Miguel Urbiztondo and Alan Weatherhead. The session known as Shohola was recorded by Jason Molina alone, with a guitar and microphone. The Road Becomes What You Leave is a film produced by Todd Chandler and Tim Sutton. It follows the band as they tour across the prairie provinces of Canada and shows the loneliness and isolation one can feel even when traveling in a pack.

Together, these make for the most ambitious and robust Magnolia Electric Co release to date.

12 years ago today Magnolia Electric Co. released the incredible ‘Sojourner’ boxset.

An ambitious and beautifully curated collection released in a wooden box, ‘Sojourner’ was the accumulated work of thirteen musicians, five locations, four recording engineers, three filmmakers, two designers and one songwriter, including enough material for three full lengths, one EP and one DVD. The boxset included 4 CDs a DVD, a celestial map, postcards and a medallion.


Ben Swanson, Secretly Canadian:

Sojourner was born out of one of the most prolific periods of Jason’s career. He’d constantly be setting up new sessions, or sending us new records – not recordings, but fully conceived records – out of the blue. He even sent one cryptically as a demo and then got upset when we didn’t find it amongst the pile of other demos (that record eventually became the Molina & Johnson record). It was extremely exciting but admittedly a bit stressful from the label perspective. We were sensitive to the Prince dynamic with Warner; of not being able to keep up and do justice to the work. Jason was also – actually not unlike Prince now that I think about it – in the midst of this transformative period away from the old Songs: Ohia moniker and material into a new, more expansive name, Magnolia Electric Co (at the time, he had the idea of a multi-headed beast. Several different “Electric Co.”s coexisting). We desperately wanted to keep pace with Jason but could never catch up. Eventually we landed on the idea of leaning in to the situation and suggested we put all this material together in a box. At first it was purely a practical innovation to reset the clock, but eventually came to find the opportunity to showcase Jason’s range. My memory is he loved the concept out of the gate and immediately began dreaming of a box stuffed with music, a Ouija board, a constellation map and a chicken bone. Tokens from his universe. In hindsight, Sojourner ended up as the most complete representation of Jason’s expansive world that rewards repeat listens. At some point we’ll have to put it out on vinyl. Maybe there will be room for the chicken bone.

Image result for jason molina

What to say about Jason Molina? He was prolific—he made dozens of records during his lifetime—and, for a time, elusive. His music was spectral, haunted, out of time. And he began making it in an era, the mid-’90s, when artists had more control over what the world knew about them than they do now. Molina, like Will Oldham—whose label, Palace Music, released some of Molina’s earliest recordings. His album covers were adorned with birds and murky trees. He sang about moons, trains, bells, constellations. Though he performed under various names—Songs: Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co.—his fixations were constant: isolation, self-doubt, survival. As Molina put it in one song: “Why put a new address on the same old loneliness?” He had a hollow, reedy voice and a penchant for singing about ghosts. His earliest arrangements were spare: You could hear the rooms in which they were recorded, the sound of hands touching instruments. On one song, 2002’s “Didn’t It Rain,” you can hear Molina instructing his fellow musicians, muttering: “Let’s bring it back. We can sing one more.” Who was this guy, I used to wonder? Where did he come from?.

Molina was from Lorain, Ohio—the same town as Toni Morrison. He grew up in a trailer park. His mother was an alcoholic. In her deeply reported 2017 book, Jason Molina: Riding with the Ghost, childhood friends of Molina’s who remember him collecting trinkets and magical objects—animal bones, flags, coins, cigar boxes—a habit he’d keep for the rest of his life. In college, at Oberlin, he got the nickname “Sparky,” for his constant nervous energy. He was a loner, a myth maker, and sometimes an outright liar, telling improbable stories about himself and where he came from. He’d play college parties and “sink the mood.” Most people who met him didn’t quite know what to make of him: He had an artist’s charisma, and an artist’s way of dealing with the world, which is to say, he kept it at a distance. Mostly he wrote songs: compulsively, repetitively. Sometimes he forgot or renamed or even rerecorded them. In his discography, phrases and moods and characters come around again and again, as if every song were part of something bigger, and more whole, than itself.

At some point Molina began drinking in earnest. By the end, he died of it, nine months shy of his 40th birthday. When friends asked what was wrong, or why he was acting strangely, he’d say he had a “virus around his heart.” In lyrics he talked about being stalked by something bigger than himself, and attempting to fight back:

Jason Molina played the blues. That’s a simple way to describe the diverse, mysterious, alternately sad and euphoric music of the late singer/songwriter, who died in 2013 at the age of 39. He used music as a way to explore big concepts: life, death, love and existence. He’d write rock epics about the endtimes, and hushed dirges about being followed by ghosts, either real or metaphorical. His music was unmistakably Midwestern at times, evoking the factories and long stretches of road between Indiana and Chicago. At others, he seemed to occupy a space outside of any recognizable locale. And he was often followed by vivid man-made and natural imagery, the most iconic presence in his songs being the eerie light of the moon.

Molina grew up in Ohio, and many of his early recordings—under the name Songs: Ohia—reflected those roots. He was raised on a diet of Led Zeppelin and Black Sabbath, but he developed his own unique style early on, employing space more deftly than most indie singer/songwriters of the ’90s and early ’00s. And while his first few records employed a bare-bones lo-fi folk sound, it didn’t take long for Molina to cultivate a sound of his own, one that was almost a contradiction of itself. His songs weren’t often loud, but they carried an intensity that volume alone couldn’t convey. “He would crank his electric, but he would barely touch the strings,” said artist Will Schaff, who designed the covers of several of Molina’s albums and singles.

The body of work that Jason Molina released in his lifetime is split into several disparate parts. The first part comprises his work as Songs: Ohia, which was a slower, more atmospheric sound that he eventually built into breathtaking, haunting perfection. The second part is Magnolia Electric Co., which was Molina’s proper rock band, often drawing comparisons to Neil Young, and rightfully so. It wasn’t just that Molina was influenced by Young and Crazy Horse, but that he actually wrote songs good enough to stand up to Shakey’s. And in between there were the solo recordings, mostly just Molina and his guitar, not quite as dramatic or intricate as the others, but still beautiful, still affecting.

With a 15-year anniversary of Magnolia Electric Co. It seemed like the right time to take a look at the whole of Molina’s studio album catalog, from his early lo-fi sounds to his later forays into rock ‘n’ roll. Everything he did was interesting. Most of it was very good. Some of it reflective of the sadness and addiction that followed him throughout his life. And a solid segment of his albums are utterly essential.

Songs: Ohia – Songs: Ohia (1997; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Songs Ohia

Jason Molina began his recording career in much the same way every indie band does: With a set of songs rich in promise and made on a shoestring budget. It’s not the lowest fidelity of any Songs: Ohia release, but it’s close. The songs are well-written and feature full-band arrangements, Molina’s folk-rock sounds touched up with the occasional accordion or saxophone. Yet the production quality does flatten what should be much richer-sounding songs, and most of them are far shorter than the gorgeous ballads that Molina would develop over the next couple of years. Molina himself sounds reedy and thin, the full power of his tenor buried a bit in the mix. Yet it’s easy to hear the strength of the songs and the possibilities of what Songs: Ohia could, and did, become.


Songs: Ohia – Impala (1998; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Impala

The first few years of Songs: Ohia were remarkably prolific, with Molina releasing seven albums in just four years. Two of those were limited-edition recordings featuring demos and improvisations, but it’s still an impressive amount of music for a concentrated period of time. The second of those seven, Impala, is mostly in line with the self-titled debut, a recording of primarily stark recordings built from overwhelming sadness and bare-bones instrumentation. It’s all very good and emotionally draining, though it has its moments of variation and a handful of standouts, like the epic slowcore opener “An Ace Unable to Change” and the almost punk “One of those Uncertain Hands,” which explodes throughout its 87 seconds. Still, it’s hard not to miss the bigger arrangements of the debut, even if the recording quality is a little better.



 Songs: Ohia – Axxess and Ace (1999; Secretly Canadian)

jason molina discography Axcess and Ace

Not only did Molina release a lot of music in those first few years, but he actually progressed a lot as a songwriter and performer in that time. His third album, Axcess and Ace, had become the template for the next few (official) Songs: Ohia records, and was the best yet upon its release. There’s a hushed, spacious sensibility to the songs, with an almost jazz-like aesthetic throughout. Molina switches from acoustic guitar to electric on much of the album, and the greater clarity of sound gives the record a more graceful, eerily beautiful sound. At times it’s emotionally devastating, as on “Love Leaves Its Abusers.” But the album also features Songs: Ohia’s first truly great song, “Captain Badass.” Unfolding over seven-plus minutes with its nocturnal strums and brushed drums, the track finds Molina embracing jazzy textures to great effect. Moreover, his voice sounds even stronger than it had on the previous two releases, the young singer/songwriter coming into his own as a powerful presence and a stellar songwriter alike.

Songs: Ohia – The Ghost (1999; Secretly Canadian/tour only)

jason molina discography The Ghost

Early on in his Songs: Ohia career, Molina released a handful of tour-only releases that featured material in the vein of his proper studio recordings, albeit made in considerably different circumstances. For a lot of touring indie bands in the ’00s, this was fairly common practice (and still is to some degree), though for the most part Molina kept to wide-released albums after 2000. Still, it offered an interesting behind-the-scenes glimpse of the songwriter. The Ghost sounds essentially like a collection of demos, its 10 songs recorded with bare-bones, no-budget technology—probably a hand-held tape recorder. And through the fuzz, some hints of his songwriting strengths can be heard, though the hiss and static do obscure a great deal of it. It’s not a proper album of his for a reason, though it’s at least interesting, a limited-release obscurity that in all likelihood helped contribute a few bucks to something greater ahead.


 Songs: Ohia – The Lioness (2000; Secretly Canadian)

jason molina discography The Lioness

Jason Molina’s fifth album (or fourth if you’re less inclined to count The Ghost among his “official” albums) marked the beginning of a new phase of exploration, emotional expression and undeniable beauty. Or, put more simply, The Lioness, after three good albums, was his first great one. Possessing neither the kitchen-sink lo-fi sounds of his debut nor the more overt folkiness of the others, The Lioness is a spacious, slow-moving album that allows each moment of bruised beauty to linger. It helps that this was the best-recorded album of his to date, which is apparent through the gripping seven minutes of “The Black Crow,” opening the album with a breathtaking tension that leaves one exhausted after listening. And yet, there’s a minimalist sensibility about it—the chord progression almost never changes, just the volume and intensity, and Molina’s own rising voice as he yells the phrase “And it’s fading!” with some distance between him and the mic. It’s not a loud album, but it can take a lot out of a listener, particularly in tracks like “Tigress” or the title track, wherein Molina treats courtship as bloodsport: “Want to feel my heartbreak if it must break in your jaws/ Want you to lick my blood off your paws.” It’s one of the most gruesome albums ever written about love, which in a sense makes it all the more romantic.

  Songs: Ohia – Protection Spells (2000; Secretly Canadian/tour only)

jason molina discography Protection Spells

Songs: Ohia released three albums in 2000, which is close to a record for Molina, although only if you view the box set Sojourner as a solitary release rather than as four in one. Yet of the three full-length releases to bear the Songs: Ohia name in 2000,Protection Spells is something of a minor inclusion, as it was a tour album that didn’t find its way on to most retailer shelves. That’s because, in contrast to his other albums, it comprised an entire session’s worth of improvised material. This doesn’t mean it’s a free jazz album or anything quite so chaotic. Rather, Molina and a band played their way through some loose jams of slow, bluesy sounds that are often stark, unrelentingly melancholy and occasionally quite stunning. “Trouble Will Find You,” for instance, is utterly gorgeous. It most closely resembles Cat Power’s What Would the Community Think, which is a strong album to be compared to, though it’s mostly missing that album’s melodic peaks. Overall it’s a much more listener-friendly set of music than 1999′s The Ghost, though still out of reach of a stunner like The Lioness from the same year.

 Songs: Ohia – Ghost Tropic (2000; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Songs Ohia Ghost Tropic

There are a lot of songs in Jason Molina’s catalog that make mention of ghosts. One might say that Molina was haunted in many senses of the word, and one of them seemed to be quite literal. Ghostly visitations took place in many of his albums, and he even let them creep into the title of his 2000 album Ghost Tropic. Ghost Tropic is indeed ghostly, aided by Lullaby for the Working Class’ Mike Mogis and Shane Aspegren on a set of music that’s considerably different from many of Molina’s other recordings. It’s not as folky as his first few solo albums, nor as gritty and rock-oriented as his Magnolia Electric Co. material. It’s stark, gothic avant-blues that’s as eerie and shadowy as anything he’s ever recorded. And though it received mixed reviews upon first release, there’s no doubt that it’s one of the best things he ever made, in part because it’s such a bold statement. There are open spaces throughout, ominously ringing piano keys, field recordings of birds and whirring organs. There’s even a touch of The Bad Seeds’ ornate punk blues, channeled through lengthy dirges. And for his part, Molina is a bit more restrained than usual, singing on six of the album’s eight songs but often with hypnotic repetition or leaving ellipses rather than carrying out his characteristic narratives. The two 10-plus-minute tracks toward the end of the album, “Not Just a Ghost’s Heart” and “Incantation,” are breathtaking in their pitch-black atmosphere. Yet the shorter tracks reveal their own stunning details, like the chilling two-note piano bassline of “The Body Burned Away” and the pick harmonics and stylistic detuning of “Lightning Risked It All” (which could easily be slipped onto a Califone album without raising red flags). Ghost Tropic is such a strange album, but it’s executed so beautifully and so hauntingly that it amounts to one of Molina’s greatest single recordings.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Songs: Ohia: Travels in Constants Temporary Residence Ltd

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Available on Vinyl for the first time ever. Sometime in 2001 -sandwiched between the release of Ghost Tropic and its follow-up, the cryptic classic, Didn’t It Rain – Songs: Ohia recorded an EP for Temporary Residence’s distance-themed subscription series, Travels In Constants. The untitled EP consisted of a single 18-minute song -performed live by Jason Molina in his living room, recorded directly to 4-track cassette as the sounds of a typical Chicago night bled through the air. Built solely from an acoustic guitar and Molina’s familiar melancholy croon, it’s a hauntingly intimate track. Molina once remarked that it was “probably too out there” for a proper Songs: Ohia album, which is perhaps why is felt right at home in this context. Scarcely available in its original CD-only edition of 1,000 copies, Travels In Constants has finally been remastered and reissued for vinyl. Completing this reissue is Howler, another unusually lengthy Songs: Ohia track that, like Travels In Constants, was recorded and released in 2001 in an edition of only 1,000. These tracks are amongst the most bistractly beautiful and alarmingly delicate music that Molina ever committed to tape.

Songs: Ohia – Didn’t It Rain (2002; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Songs Ohia Didn't It Rain













Just about everything Jason Molina recorded was good to great. A handful of albums he released were absolute masterpieces. Didn’t It Rain is perfect. His most highly acclaimed album at the time of its release, Didn’t It Rain has aged remarkably well, its nocturnal blues-folk dirges an enchanting continuation of the stunning sounds on Ghost Tropic, rendered in the oxidized hues of Rust Belt America. Gone are the birdsong and metallic sounds of percussive elements and harmonic-scrape guitar strings. In their stead are is the spiritual soul of gospel and electric blues, still played slowly and with a hushed beauty. The album was mostly recorded at night, and it sounds like it—this isn’t music that makes a lot of sense during the daytime. And though it’s dark, it’s also hopeful. The opening title track, arguably Molina’s most beautiful composition, is a beacon of hope that guides the album. “If you do see that golden light, that it shines in its fiery eye,” he sings, “go on and catch it while you can… let it course through you, and let it burn through you.” Elsewhere, Molina and his bandmates—which include Jim and Jennie of the Pinetops, lending some breathtaking vocal harmonies—groove through a hypnotic two-chord repetition in “Steve Albini’s Blues,” take on a gothic Americana sound in “Ring the Bell” and go whisper quiet in “Two Blue Lights.”

The album is streaked with imagery of Middle America—the blue factory flame, the Chicago moon and the bridge out of Hammond, Indiana. It lends a certain warmth and soul to a piece of America that’s often reduced to demographic data, and in all of the darkness of Didn’t It Rain, Molina never lets go of hope. This was technically the last official Songs: Ohia album, as Molina would later clarify. It’s not necessarily that surprising in hindsight. Once he perfected it, he was ready to move on.

Songs: Ohia – Magnolia Electric Co. (2003; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Magnolia Electric Co.

There’s an interesting paradox about the ninth and final Songs: Ohia album. It’s technically a Songs: Ohia album, and the title of it is Magnolia Electric Co. But since Molina adopted the name of Magnolia Electric Co. to name the rock band he assembled from that moment forward, it’s technically that band’s first album too. It came as something of a surprise whenMagnolia Electric Co. was released, however, as much of Molina’s output to that point had rarely been steeped in fuzz and recorded with the volume cranked. Not that Molina ever suggested such a thing was out of the question; he had covered Black Sabbath and AC/DC songs, and was a longtime fan of hard rock and metal, despite mostly playing a much subtler style of music. Perhaps it’s credit to Molina’s rock ‘n’ roll schooling that right out of the gates, he delivers one of the best rock ‘n’ roll anthems of his career—and of the ’00s—”Farewell Transmission.” Driven by a recurring chorus of “long dark blues,” it’s a sprawling country-rock telling of an apocalyptic event that’s painted in vivid hues: “Now we’ll all be brothers of the fossil fire of the sun/ Now we’ll all be sisters of the fossil blood of the moon.” The entire album comprises highlights, essentially, many of them hard rocking ones, such as “I’ve Been Riding With the Ghost” and “John Henry Split His Heart,” though fascinatingly it’s one of few Molina-fronted albums that gives two other singers the lead. One is Scout Niblett, who sings “Peoria Lunch Box Blues,” and the other is whiskey-throated country singer Lawrence Peters, who gives “The Old Black Hen” some powerful Western soul. Molina later declared this the first proper Magnolia Electric Co. album, and it makes sense as being that; instead of choosing a gradual transition into a new project, he made the line of demarcation a bold one, louder and more maximalist than any of his previous albums. As Molina himself says, it’s a long dark blues: Listen.

  Jason Molina – Pyramid Electric Co. (2004; Secretly Canadian)

jason molina discography Pyramid Electric Co.

Back when this album was released, I remember getting in touch with the label about receiving an advance. There weren’t any—in fact, the label in-house PR person said that whoever reviewed it for Pitchfork must have bought a copy, since it wasn’t being serviced (which is writerspeak for being on the album-promo mailing list). The fact of the matter is that Pyramid Electric Co. isn’t a high profile release from Molina, sandwiched between his first two Magnolia Electric Co. releases (one of which was also the last Songs: Ohia album). A limited edition vinyl-only album, Pyramid Electric Co. was a stark, primarily voice-and-guitar record that harkened back to Molina’s early tour-only issues. But that’s not to say it’s a disappointing set of songs at all. Better recorded than The Ghost and more stripped down than Protection Spells, Pyramid is both haunting and gorgeous, its most striking moment the dark and spacious opening title track. Yet the tuneful “Song of the Road” showed that there was still room for a good hook.


 Magnolia Electric Co. – What Comes After the Blues (2005; Secretly Canadian)

jason molina discography Magnolia What Comes After the Blues

With the release of 2003′s Magnolia Electric Co., Molina drew a dividing line between the hushed dirges of his Songs: Ohia project and the full-band country-rock that he’d soon fire up. At the time it came as a surprise—a spectacular one—though it’s far from an unprecedented move in indie rock. In fact, that same year Phil Elverum did the same thing in reverse, transitioning the ambitious indie rock collective The Microphones into the anything-goes solo recordings of Mount Eerie. The biggest revelation of Magnolia Electric Co., however, was that Molina could—and did—rock. Inspired heavily by Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Magnolia Electric Co. delivered one hell of a rock single with 2005′s “The Dark Don’t Hide It.” Maybe the catchiest song Molina ever wrote, “Dark” takes the idea of heartbreak and human unkindness into a masterful display of clever, homespun verse: “Now the world was empty on the day when they made it/But heaven needed someplace to throw all the shit.” It’s the first song on What Comes After the Blues, and that’s its biggest flaw. All of its songs are very good; none of them are quite that driving and powerful. “Hard To Love A Man” comes close, more of a slow burn than an explosion. And interestingly, the final three songs (of eight) are entirely acoustic, borrowing the Neil Young/Bob Dylan trick of splitting the album’s aesthetics in two. But while no song musically kicks as much ass as “Dark,” closing track “I Can Not Have Seen the Light” is just as emotionally poignant, exploring depression in a very real and plainspoken way: “Do I have to be alright all the time?” While it’s by no means Molina’s best album, it’s still an album that still often finds him at his best.


 Jason Molina – Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go (2006; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography let me go

The release of Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go was a return to an old way of doing things for Molina. Released after he had transitioned into the full-band roots-rock sound of Magnolia Electric Co., the album found Molina shedding the bigger, noisier rock songs for songs that were mostly just the sound of the man’s voice and his guitar. There were some organs and pianos here and there, sure, but Let Me Go is essentially an intimate session with just Molina himself, free of additional adornments and instrumentation. He never needed much else, and here his dark visions are as mysteriously evocative as ever: “The dark outside the world/ I think it looks like rain.” While the transition into leading a proper rock ‘n’ roll sound does leave this feeling a little bit less robust as his other recordings around the same time, it’s still a strong set of music that’s worth a listen after dark, during an autumn rain.


Magnolia Electric Co. – Fading Trails (2006; Secretly Canadian)

Magnolia Electric Co Fading Trails review

Fading Trails is an excellent record. It’s also a peculiar record. For one, its artwork depicts a topless woman with a kind of ghostly air about her, rather than the illustrations that typically adorn a Songs: Ohia or Magnolia Electric Co. recording. Furthermore, while it’s ostensibly a studio album, it’s pieced together like a compilation, its nine tracks culled from four separate recording sessions, all of which were collected on 2007′s Sojourner. So on the surface it might seem like a more disjointed work, considering it features different producers, including Steve Albini and David Lowery. However, it doesn’t sound that way. Maybe it’s simply the result of being the work of a singular artist with a strongly defined style, but Fading Trails all fits together quite well, from the country rock hooks of “Lonesome Valley” and “Talk to Me Devil, Again” to the stripped-down closing tracks, “Spanish Moon Fall and Rise” and “Steady Now.” And the imagery of past records still looms large over these songs: “Out here the ghost wears its feathered crown of blues/And the sickle moon to watch over all the lost horizon.” Ghosts, blues and the moon: That’s Jason Molina’s music in a nutshell.

Magnolia Electric Co. – Sojourner (2007; Secretly Canadian/limited edition)

Jason Molina discography Sojourner

The curious thing about so much of Jason Molina’s recorded output is not so much what he released but how he released it. While his best albums were no question the “official” Songs: Ohia or Magnolia Electric Co. releases (Molina was often his own best editor and judge), there’s so much additional material that can’t be purchased in physical formats anymore, like the 2007-released limited-edition box set Sojourner. At the time it was issued—in a wooden box, beautifully packaged and currently going for $150 or so secondhand)—Sojourner didn’t entirely comprise unreleased material. Nine of its tracks made their way on to the previous year’s Fading Trails, essentially a studio album culled from the best of those four sessions. Most of them were taken from Nashville Moon, the first, Steve Albini-recorded disc whose outtakes are just as strong as those that made the Fading Trails cut. The final disc is entirely made up of acoustic tracks, some of which tend to lose some of the steam of the early material, and the EP-length Sun Sessions is a brief but interesting set of extras. But the David Lowery-produced Black Ram is perhaps the most interesting inclusion, a dark and haunting set of dirges that takes a much eerier turn than the catchier, driving songs of Nashville Moon. Altogether, Sojourner contains much of the best material that Molina ever recorded, along with some that’s not necessarily incredible but still enjoyable. It’s a pretty overwhelming set of music, but proof that Molina’s leftovers occasionally were just as good or even better than the official LPs.

Magnolia Electric Co. – Josephine (2009; Secretly Canadian)

Magnolia Electric Co. Josephine review

Jason Molina’s final album release in his lifetime was never expected to be that. His death four years later came as a shock, though his own health had been deteriorating due to alcohol, and he essentially stopped releasing music. In fact, in May of 2012, he released a letter to fans expressing gratitude for their concern and sounding relatively upbeat in spite of his deteriorating health. But in 2009, despite being the year that he’d fall off the radar after canceling tour dates with Will Johnson, he still was as productive and prolific as ever. His final release was his collaborative album will Will Johnson, Molina & Johnson, but just five months before that, he released his last album with Magnolia Electric Co., Josephine. And again, it was never intended to be that. In fact, it feels like a strong continuation of his previous three Magnolia albums, albeit one more steeped in country-rock sounds and adorned with gorgeous accents of pedal steel. And much like those albums, Josephine also returns to the rewarding well of Crazy Horse-style rock ‘n’ roll, particularly on standouts “The Handing Down,” “Map of the Falling Sky” and “Little Sad Eyes,” all of which run together in a sequence. That Josephine isn’t considered one of the greatest moments in Molina’s career isn’t necessarily a knock on it. He had already issued about four true masterpieces in his lifetime. If anything, it feels just slightly out of reach of those heights, a comfortable continuation rather than besting the heights ofDidn’t It Rain or Magnolia Electric Co. It’s a warm and lovely album that suggests Molina had far from reached the bottom of his songwriting well, and there’s something oddly reassuring in that.

Molina & Johnson (2009; Secretly Canadian)

Jason Molina discography Molina and Johnson

The final album that Jason Molina released in his lifetime wasn’t a proper solo album or a Magnolia Electric Co. effort either. It was a full-length collaboration with Centro-Matic’s Will Johnson that felt less like a fully formed album than a fun set of songs and unfinished sketches that the two musicians simply had fun putting together. It’s not bad at all, and in fact features some truly gorgeous songs, including “What You Reckon, What You Breathe” and “Each Star Marks a Day.” But Molina is only a solo vocalist on a handful of songs here, Johnson mostly taking the lead, and quite a few of the songs seeming either unfinished or pale sketches of something that could have been even greater with a bit more time devoted to them. It’s all mostly stark, few of the songs featuring more than guitar and voice and occasionally some keyboard, and the fidelity even seems a bit inconsistent throughout. At the time, though, it was merely a nice appendix to an already rich catalog, less an essential than something along the lines of the Songs: Ohia tour-only releases from earlier on in his career. Not essential, but not bad. And though the music itself is stark and minor key, the truly sad thing about it is how open-ended it feels.

‘Molina and Johnson’ was released 11 years ago today on

Secretly Canadian


Will Johnson approached Jason Molina at the merch table following a Magnolia Electric Co. Austin, TX show in September 2007, where they engaged in a conversation about hats — favorite types and what’s appropriate for the stage — and, of course, pumpkins. Numbers were exchanged on tattered napkins. Contact was made within a week, and a straight face agreement to co-conspire was made.
Five months later to the day, having loaded all their musical equipment into Argyle, Texas’ Echolab studio, the two were in Johnson’s truck headed for downtown Denton where they picked up the necessities of a recording session: food, beer, a BB gun and “lots of extra BBs.”
“We were basically ready,” Johnson said. “For ten days we wrote, co-wrote, workshopped, complimented, scrutinized, drank, invited friends to come play music, smoked, made lots of notes and drawings, drank a little more and shot the BB gun off the back porch when we just needed some time and space. In the throes of all this, our record was made in the late February sun.”

Songs Ohia: Love and Work: The Lioness Sessions (2018 Secretly Canadian)


The Lioness is the first Jason Molina project to fully turn away from the battlefield folk and deconstructed Americana of earlier Songs: Ohia recordings. At the dawn of the 21st century, the album felt modern. It aligned Molina with a new set of peers – Low, Gastr del Sol, Red House Painters and, most importantly, the influential Scottish band Arab Strap, whose producer and members were crucial in the creation of The Lioness. The avant-garde tones and arrangements of Arab Strap are absorbed here into Molina’s songwriting to create what would become, for many acolytes, the archetypal Songs: Ohia sound. Love and Work: The Lioness Sessions, the box set reissue, will serve as the seminal log of the era, complete with lost songs, photos, drawings, and essays from those who knew Molina best.

We know Molina was diligent in both love and work. He treated songcraft like a job at the mill, and his approach to romance was not so different. We know that when he fell in love with his wife, he was dutiful in his adoration. There were strings of love letters and poetic gesture. Included in this edition are replicated examples of this relentless love – an envelope with a letter from Molina, a photograph of Molina and his to-be wife, a postcard, a Two of Hearts playing card, and a personal check for one million kisses. Some of these items were gifts he would send to his new love from the road; others, like the 2 of Hearts, were totems he’d carry with him around this time as a symbol for his burgeoning love.

And so, the head-over-heels album that is The Lioness has its workman counterpart. Nearly another album’s worth of material was recorded in Scotland during the album sessions. While similar in tone and structure, the songs seem to deal in the grit and dirt of being. These are songs for aching muscles getting soothed in the third-shift pub. But they’re also examples of Molina’s diligence as he constructs what would be the essential elements of The Lioness. In addition to these outtakes, we also have a 4-track session made weeks earlier in London with friend James Tugwell. Comprised of primarily guitar, hand drums and voice, these songs are raw experiments that mostly serve to illustrate Molina’s well of words and ideas. But then, there is the devastating Sacred Harp hymn Wondrous Love. While he may have had his new love in mind, one can’t help but think of Molina’s legacy as he softly warbles “Into eternity I will sing / Into eternity I will sing.” You don’t have to try too hard to mythologize Molina. He did all the work for you.

Given what’s going on outside, this is resonant stuff now. But it was then too. I’ve been thinking about why I was first drawn to Molina’s music, and why I’ve been returning to it. I think the answers are more or less the same. There is his voice, the strength of it, even when it wavers. There is the way the first few chords he tends to play ring out, like someone clearing a path up ahead of you. And there is the melancholy of it, which exists and yet is somehow reassuring. Why listen to music this sad and unguarded? To recognize yourself and your sadness in someone else. To feel: We are not alone. Even when we are alone.

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Magnolia Electric Co “What Comes After The Blues” was released fifteen years ago today on 5th April 2005 From the original Secretly Canadian press release:

With this record, we entered a new era with Jason Molina. After seven full-length studio albums in as many years – each recorded using a revolving cast of players under the name Songs: OhiaMolina retired the name Songs: Ohia as well as his wayward days and settled in with a new and consistent cast of players. He has named this group Magnolia Electric Co., after his final Songs: Ohia album, finding a once-in-a-career band down in Bloomington in Pete Schreiner, Jason Groth, Mark Rice and Mike Kapinus.

Sonically, on What Comes After the Blues, there isn’t a huge departure from where Songs: Ohia was headed. The steel howling hauntedly, the guitars soaring and crunching with verve, and the songs still resonating with timelessness. Steve Albini’s live-in-a-room and captured-as-it-was-played engineering technique is still a crucial player as well. Where we find the marked difference with this new band and with these players in this new cloak are in their confidence as afforded by experience and trust in one another. These guys are talented, hard-working, and actually enjoy playing with one another – and you can hear it in the songs. Magnolia Electric Co. made a no-bullshit album that is both rocking and full of life; it’s a fist pumper and manages to hit great depths of beauty as well.”…/what-comes-after-the-blues/

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Magnolia Electric Co’s ‘Trials & Errors’ was released 15 years ago today on January 18th, 2005. A live album originally recorded in April 2003 at Club Ancienne Belgique in Brussels, the record is the first to bear the Magnolia Electric Co moniker despite the band having been touring as Songs: Ohia over that period, and was met with comparisons to the live recordings of Neil Young & Crazy Horse.

Recorded only a few months after they had formed, “Trials & Errors” captures Jason Molina’s new band Magnolia Electric Co. on one magical night in Brussels in 2003. It is a scintillating audio document of one of America’s most important contemporary live acts evolving into something really special and doing what it does best – whipping an audience into a frenzy. This set captures Molina & Co right after Molina had retired the Songs: Ohia machine in favor of this powerful new vision of his.

Two years in the planning process, the new project took its name from the last Songs: Ohia full-length album. Composed of a nucleus of four members, this particular show captures the newly christened band on its first tour in its earliest state. Still a four-piece with Pete Schreiner providing the back beat drum pulse, Mike Kapinus on bass and melancholic trumpet, and the two Jason’s dueling over guitar solo space: Molina’s down-tuned guitar matching his now settled tenor voice, and Groth’s Creedence-channeling rhythm guitar and solos filling out the upper register. With Molina as the principal songwriter, the songs are as classic as his fans have come to expect over the course of seven Songs: Ohia full-lengths (all released between ’96 and ’03). With his new band, however, fans can finally enjoy a stable & more-than-able rhythm section that just gets tougher and tougher with each performance. Like a juggernaut that simply chews up everything in its path, on Trials & Errors, the new Magnolia grinds through three old Molina favorites (two from Songs: Ohia’s Didn’t It Rain and one from the Songs: Ohia album Magnolia Electric Co), three songs which will be released on the upcoming Magnolia Electric Co studio album (out Spring 2005) as well as four songs that will only exist on record in their live form as presented here.

Fans may recognize that Trials & Errors comes peppered with an homage or two to Neil Young. One could, in fact, argue that the album is an existential response to Tonight’s the Night. While from the songwriting perspective Molina is often pegged as the perennial downer, this is not, like Young’s, a record born out of a series of sudden tragedies, but rather out of a whole life of growing up & out in the Midwest, surrounded by a small town mentality in a wide open space. The bastard second of three children, the Midwest is a funny place, often patted on the head and doled out placations of “Oh that’s nice – now go run along while the East & West do their business.” It is an album about finally accepting one’s place in this world; about standing ground and owning up to it with confidence. These are familiar themes that run through some of the greatest literary works of our last great century. Join Magnolia Electric Co as they play their part in a long-standing tradition of touring musical artists (Lynyrd Skynyrd, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Bruce Springsteen & the E-Street Band) that capture the spirit of their own homes, traditions and principles and communicate those through the chooglin’ rock of ages on stage for rooms full of empassioned audiences 150 nights a year. This is all about that wandering spirit, and the longing to wrangle it into place every now & again.

In subsequent tours, this core line-up would soon shift to find Mark Rice (the Impossible Shapes, John Wilkes Booze) replace Schreiner on drums, with Schreiner (the Panoply Academy, Scout Niblett, the Coke Dares) moving to bass guitar, and Kapinus (Okkervil River sideman) shifting to keyboards/piano & trumpet while Groth (the Impossible Shapes, John Wilkes Booze, the Coke Dares) and Molina remain constant on guitar.

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This week sees the 10th anniversary of the release of Magnolia Electric Co’s ‘Josephine’. To mark this, Jason Evans Groth has kindly shared some of his thoughts and memories of creating the album:

Magnolia Electric Co’s ‘Josephine’ was released ten years ago today on the 21st July 2009. Continuing the band’s collaboration with producer Steve Albini, the album was dedicated to bassist Evan Farrell who passed away in December 2007.

To mark the 10th anniversary of the album, Magnolia Electric Co’s guitarist Jason Evans Groth shared some of his memories of recording the album. “Josephine was cathartic for all of us, was a truly full-band record, was weirder in a lot ways and more accessible in a lot ways than other stuff we’d been doing, and is a testament to what a family can do if they stick together through the tragedies.”

Josephine, to me, sounds like a family celebrating and mourning something that had been loved and had been lost, and doing it together, all as one. Jason dedicated the album to and even said in interviews that it was about our dear friend and one-time bandmate Evan Farrell, who had perished in a fire in December of 2007, just a few months after the one tour he did with us. At the time I was a little uneasy about that dedication, probably because I knew many of those songs had been written before Evan, some had even been played with him. But Jason was right – songs change, feelings about their meaning change, and I was caught up in facts to help suppress the feelings I had about the tragedy. We made a shrine to Evan in the studio. We talked and thought a lot about him. Jason had taken it hard. In the three years prior to this, death had become a tragically common occurrence. In 2005 we were in the studio recording Nashville Moon with Steve Albini when Michael Dahlquist – Silkworm’s drummer and a dear friend of Steve’s – was killed in an incredibly tragic car accident; Jason lost his mother; our then-new European booking agent, Jens Pape, also died suddenly and unexpectedly; and Heath Ledger, who had been working with Jason on a documentary project, died. I know Jason was thinking about all of it – he told me he was – those few years. He told me he thought he was cursed, and cursing other people.

And then it was the fall of 2008, and it was time to make a new record. Jason and Mikey went to Denton, TX to make the Molina and Johnson record (where the original “Josephine” was recorded) and we hadn’t toured since Evan died, which was weird for us; more than a whole year off the road. Jason had played a smattering of European solo shows, some with another band. Around April Jason started emailing me with ideas. On tour, he said, he wanted to do anything we wanted to play – “the ancient stuff.” He was concerned about tunings but asked me to come up with versions we could use on the road. Tour would happen in the fall, and then we would make the record. Looking back through emails, we talked about tuning a lot. The tour was booked for mid-late October/early November, with recording starting on November 6th and going through the 20th.

Up until sequencing we all worked on it together. We brought the songs to life and we hung out and worked together and loved being around one another. I still get chills thinking about the hug Jason gave me after the saxophone solo I played for “O! Grace.” I’m really glad a lot of the session is captured, expertly, in Ben Schreiner’s Recording Josephine documentary.

Josephine was cathartic for all of us, was a truly full-band record, was weirder in a lot ways and more accessible in a lot ways than other stuff we’d been doing, and is a testament to what a family can do if they stick together through the tragedies. I love my Magnolia Electric Co family so much, and I miss Jason more than I can express. I especially miss him when I think about this session and this record, and how much we all felt like one making it.

We had heard nothing about songs. Eventually, the last week of September, Jason wrote and said he had been “pulling my teeth out here” to get us some demos. Those eventually came, early in October, and were ethereal, haunting versions of the songs that would show up on Josephine (and some that wouldn’t). And they were in weird tunings, just like Jason’s old days. I felt that he had been collaborating with me without me knowing it, using me as a way to summon up the courage to do things like he used to, things that he did out of necessity then and which seemed mysterious to him now. He told us “I’m not ignoring ELO type arrangements on this record.” He told me he wanted to make his version of In the Aeroplane Over the Sea. He told me he wanted it to be “less Crazy Horse and more crazy.” And what we made probably had a little of all of that. We were working out songs together in the studio, recording them in one or two takes live, with the vocals being monitored through an amp in the room where we all were (which is why they have an extra-ghosty quality to them, I think). And then we were overdubbing like crazy, too.

My favorite dubs are the tambourine part in “Rock of Ages” (just describing what I wanted to Steve Albini is a pleasant memory), watching Pete do amazing hand percussion, and seeing Mark play vibes. The “Whip-poor-will” recording – just thinking about it – brings tears to my eyes. Jason and me playing guitar on stools in the drum room at Electrical, with Mikey sitting next to us so we could do those live three-part harmonies, which sounded tighter at that recording than I thought they ever could. My Tele Deluxe – the guitar I played at 99% of the Songs: Ohia/MECo shows – had gotten really sick, and was getting a fret job in Chicago, so I was put in the position of using guitars I didn’t understand, and that made me play in a more wild, quiet, and careful way all at once. My favorite guitar tones on the record came out of my wife’s telecaster, including maybe my favorite recorded thing I’ve ever done, the guitar solo in “Shenandoah.”


I hope everyone else misses Jason Molina with their whole, entire aching heart? Posthumous reissues like this one generally don’t help much in softening that ache, but they do serve as a reminder of Molina’s genius, which is nearly unparalleled in the 21st century songwriters’ canon—he sits on a tall hill next to the Leonard Cohens and Bob Dylans of the world. This box set reissue of The Lioness, released late last month and containing lost songs, liner notes written by Molina’s friends and collaborators and other memorabilia, is a deliberate homage to the late artist’s life and music. The songs from the Lioness sessions, which were recorded just shy of the new millennium and originally released in 2000, capture a moment in his life so rosy with newfound love, you’ll wonder how this wonderstruck Molina is the same one who later tackled burdensome grief as Magnolia Electric Co. But, on the new, never-before-heard outtakes from the Lioness sessions, he is more rooted in life’s ups and downs.

He does the work of a priest—blessing love, bestowing wisdom for braving life and making sense of death. The Lioness, as well as these outtakes, showcase a Jason Molina rising. His ability to balance dark themes of doom and despair with the warm but complicated matters of the heart was fully realized on this album.

He would go on to write music like this for 13 more years, but, now, five years after his death, that doesn’t seem like a whole lot of time. Molina knew that life was complicated, but his music has a way of making it easier to understand.

Kevin Morby Waxahatchee

Kevin Morby and Waxahatchee toured together and collaborated on stage last year, and now they have teamed up once again to cover two songs by the late Jason Molina (Songs: Ohia, Magnolia Electric Co). They did “Farewell Transmission” from Songs: Ohia’s The Magnolia Electric Co and “The Dark Don’t Hide It” from Magnolia Electric Co’s What Comes After the Blues. They turned both songs into duets, and they also sing some gorgeous harmonies together in the chorus of the latter. Here’s what Morby says about the project:

My love for Jason Molina began only a few years ago. I had overlooked him for years, too overwhelmed by his many monikers and sprawling catalogue. Then on a European tour in 2016 our driver put on Magnolia Electric Company and my mind was blown – and so began my obsession with the man and his music. A few months after hearing him I was on tour with Waxahatchee where Katie and I bonded over our mutual love for Molina, and we got the idea to record two of our favorite Songs: Ohia songs – which is what you have here today; Farewell Transmission b/w The Dark Don’t Hide It.These were recorded in Upstate New York with my live band at my drummer’s studio, The Chicken Shack, with both Katie and I splitting vocals duties. We would record all day, eating eggs from all the chickens running around, taking breaks to read old articles and watch live footage of Jason and his band. He’s a true inspiration and there’s no other songwriter or vocalist quite like him. We are deeply honored to be able to sing his songs, and we do hope you enjoy listening as much as we enjoyed creating them. The cover art was done by William Schaff, who is responsible for the iconic Magnolia Electric Co. album art. All proceeds of the digital sales will go to MusiCares® – an organization that provides support and community services to musicians in need of medical, personal & financial assistance – and also helped Jason in his struggle with addiction, as well as paid to have a polyp removed from my vocal chords in 2014. A truly wonderful cause.”

Peace and Happy New Year,
Kevin Morby, 2018

Kevin Morby & Waxahatchee – Farewell Transmission

Kevin Morby & Waxahatchee  – The Dark Don’t Hide It

Songs: Ohia - Magnolia Electric Co. @LP, Blue Swirl Vinyl, Limited to 600 Pieces, Out 12/16

Newbury Comics have been hoping to release some Jason Molina music ever since they started putting out records three years ago, so couldn’t be happier about announcing this Newbury Comics exclusive edition of Songs: Ohia’s ‘Magnolia Electric Co’. Released midway through his career (and preceding a band name change to Magnolia Electric Co.), this double lp deluxe edition sees the Songs: Ohia sound open up in ways that had been only hinted at on previous releases. The lyrics, as always, are worth the price of admission alone.

Our version is pressed on two slabs of Blue Swirl vinyl, in a lovely gatefold sleeve (with printed inner sleeves) in an edition of 600 pieces (+ download).

The hallmark of Jason Molina’s career, Magnolia Electric Co., is both a confluence of all he would create and a line in the sand to mark a shift in his song writing approach. It was the last statement under his iconic Songs: Ohia moniker, and the moment before he began making new legends as Magnolia Electric Co. for the next 10 years. Now — here at the end of that decade — with Molina gone, his work gathers more weight and meaning. This expanded 10-year anniversary edition of Magnolia Electric Co. features one never-before-released track plus many rarities. The full-band studio outtake of fan favorite “Whip Poor Will” is a sweet and spare version that ended up being played far differently on Magnolia Electric Co.’s final album Josephine (2009). Also included is the studio version of “The Big Game Is Every Night.” Previously only available on the Japanese version of the album, this opus serves as Molina’s thesis statement, its poetry weaving through the 20th Century, through art and sporting culture — ultimately questioning what it means to be an American in the autumn of the American Era.

The edition also gathers Molina’s gutting demos for the record, including those two outtakes. Nearly each begins with audible sound of the RECORD button being pressed down on the tape player. They are so close and intimate, it’s hard to look them right in the eyes. But you should.

Out on 12/16 and available for order now.

Songs: Ohia ‘The Magnolia Electric Co.’ (10th Year Anniversary Edition) out now on Secretly Canadian, a fine year for reissues although none can be more welcome than this 10 Year Anniversary Edition of Magnolia Electric Co confusingly the last album by Songs: Ohia before Jason Molina took the name of this album for his new band. No surprises there, “Magnolia Electric Co” is Molina’s masterpiece and celebrating its decade long existence is right and proper. Molina died at the age of 39 as a result of chronic alcoholism. His music had a dark heart and a desolate core. He sung about it, lived it and possibly died of it. Often compared to Neil Young the music of Jason Molina went well beyond that of a mere copyist. He was a true original, always located on the fringes of success and a man whose recognition that he was “paralysed by emptiness” led him towards destruction that played out in “bad luck lullabies”. His music is Americana gold including classics like the uber powerful seven minutes of the epic “Farewell Transmission”, the quiet wonder of one of his greatest songs “Just be simple”, the power surge of “John Henry Split my Heart” and the wasted country beauty of “Hold on Magnolia”. The album was also unique in that Molina relinquished his vocal duties on two songs, the Merle Haggard-esque “The Old Black Hen” and the sauntering “Peoria Lunch Box Blues”, giving the lead vocals respectively to Lawrence Peters and Scout Niblett.

Beyond the core of the released album the 10th Anniversary Edition are extra rare tracks and a second disc consisting only of demos, which was originally released, in its first pressing. Taking the demo album first this truly does add weight to the originals. Firstly it has Molina doing his own versions of “Old Black Hen” and “Peoria” which are rough, ready and heartbreaking. There are also sterling versions of “Farewell Transmission”, an uber poignant “Hold on Magnolia”, a stripped back version of “I’ve been riding with the ghost” that this reviewer prefers to the original and two acoustic demos of the extra tracks “Whip Poor Will” and what must rank as one of Molina’s greatest songs “The Big Game is Every Night”. The former appeared in a polished version on 2009’s “Josephine” but both sweet versions here beg the question why Molina left them of “MEC”. The lines on “Whip Poor Will” still resonate not least “so all of you folks in heaven not too busy ringing the bell/some of us down here ain’t doing very well/ some of us with our windows open in the Southern Cross motel”. When it comes to the “The Big Game is Every Night” this was originally included on the Japanese pressing of the album. It picks up the whole gamut of Molina themes of the moon, NFL football (“Unitas to Berry – so good its scary”), blues, musicians and a hardy perennial – references to snakes. The acoustic version of the song is actually less harrowing than the electric version which stretches to 10 minutes. In it he finishes with the embittered (and self reflective) observation “Show an American if really I am the snake they’re all saying/If they look up here do they see just my black tail swaying?/If I’m all fangs and all lies and all poison/If I’m really what they’re saying/I don’t want to disappoint them”. Like “Blue Factory Flame” it is utterly engrossing and compelling. The raw power of the songs conclusion sees Molina reach the pinnacle of his recording career.

The passage of ten years and the passing of Jason Molina confirms that “Magnolia Electric Co” is every bit the equal of Neil Young’s “On the Beach”, Will Oldham’s “I See A Darkness” and Johnny Cash’s “American III Solitary Man”. Sadly we just didn’t know how great Jason Molina was.