Secretly Canadian Continues to Mine Jason Molina’s Catalog for Rich Reissues

For newer fans, especially those who came to Jason Molina’s prolific output after his untimely passing in 2013 due to complications of alcoholism, the continued reissuing of his work can be consumed like new material. With sounds and lyrics as timeless as Molina’s — through his work as Songs: Ohia, The Magnolia Electric Co., Pyramid Electric Co., and as a solo artist — it’s easy to pretend like the cult-like alt-country musician is still with us and these are, in fact, new songs written for us and for these times.

Love & Work: The Lioness Sessions, which was released the week of Thanksgiving, continues in this series of Songs: Ohia reissues, all of which seem to attract new fans with each release. (Both the Helca & Griper EP and The Magnolia Electric Co. were originally released in 2003, each with a reissue marking its 10-year anniversary. Didn’t It Rain arrived in 2002 and its reissue was in 2014.) The Lioness, the record that comprises the first half of Love & Work, was released in early 2000. It marked a transitional period in Molina’s career — one that followed the historical and jangly early works and predated the so-called-perfect albums of his later years.

Although instrumentally bleak and plodding, The Lioness is actually a shatteringly affective love record, written as Molina and his soon-to-be-wife Darcie were fumbling through the early stages of falling for each other. It comprises songs about love, yes, but they’re wrought from the warring of Molina’s heart and head — the want of another pitted against the work it takes to keep that passion burning and affection true. The Lioness features consecutive classics like the title track and “Coxcomb Red,” but also includes such beloved deep cuts as “Being In Love.” “I am proof that the heart is a risky fuel to burn,” mews Molina before switching up the pronouns: “We are proof that the heart is a risky fuel to burn.”

On the second half of this collection (or on the second LP of the reissue), the music is almost all sparser still. The set of bonus tracks and outtakes includes seven songs recorded in Scotland during sessions for The Lioness, as well as an additional four tracks recorded with James Tugwell in London a few weeks prior.

Some of these songs from The Lioness sessions are obvious demos or incomplete thoughts. Many of Molina’s best works sprawl to five, or even up to 10 minutes long, yet songs like “It Gets Harder Over Time” and “Neighbors of Our Age” don’t even cross the three-minute mark.

Others, however, seem to present the emotional flipside to the admittedly convoluted sentimentality of The Lioness. These are songs of toil and frustration written not in response to love, but as the foils that hinder love from happening in the first place. However, some songs from the outtakes and original record seem to be spiritually paired. “I Promise Not to Quit,” for example, sounds like a predecessor to the album track “Being In Love.” The song starts quietly with just Molina strumming an electric guitar, but as he reaches the chorus, a digital keyboard begins to drone in ranges higher than Molina’s own unwavering tenor. “I will work to make it work,” he sings repeatedly, “And I promise not to quit.” By the time “Being In Love” made the final cut, Molina has already succeeded with this promise: “I have gotten here, I have plans to be with you / And for the first time it is working.”

Still, the highlight of the previously uncovered tracks is the closing track, a take on the hymn “Wondrous Love.” Molina was an emotive and interpretive cover artist, as noted by Secretly Canadian’s recent 7-inch releases — 2016’s of Townes Van Zandt covers and 2017’s of Black Sabbath covers. But in this two-minute version of “Wondrous Love,” Molina turns a joyful gospel into a foreboding elegy.

Interestingly, Molina only chooses to sing half of the original verses in this solo recording. He sticks with the famous opener (“What wondrous love is this? / O my soul!”) before skipping ahead to the fifth verse (“To God and to the lamb I will sing”). The stark instrumentation — Molina on a single electric guitar with no distortion, with subtle harmonics twinkling like the Rust Belt stars and factory lights that he sang about so much — draws in listeners in close to their speakers by the final verse:

And while from death I’m free,
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on.
And while from death I’m free,
I’ll sing on.
And while from death I’m free, 
I’ll sing and joyful be.
And through eternity
I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on.

It’s moments like these that the harsh reminder of Molina’s absence returns. These are not new songs. They are old hymns, old loves, old memories, even if their relevance continues to grow.

For more writing on Jason Molina and Songs: Ohia, subscribe to No Depression in time to receive the Spring 2019 issue.