Magnolia Electric Co. - A Conversation with Jason Molina (by Adam McKibbin)
David Fricke once wrote of Elvis Costello that he was “consigned to genius purgatory,” meaning that people had grown so accustomed to good songs from him that they essentially ignored them in favor of material from newer, shinier, prettier songwriters. As years pass, Jason Molina seems to face a similar situation, albeit on a smaller scale. As the force behind Songs: Ohia and now Magnolia Electric Co., Molina has been rather prolific in his output; fans have pretty much been able to bank on a new album every year (2007 will apparently be no exception, with the fall being targeted for the next LP). While his devotees still obsess over scrapped material and live recordings-the Magnolia website helpfully provides a treasure trove of complete live sets, along with some album mp3s-the mainstream pays no mind and the ruling indie elite seems to take him for granted; in part, no doubt, because they don’t get the time to wonder about his whereabouts. He’s constantly on the upcoming release radar, and always coming soon to a venue near you.
2007, then, is a year like many others for Molina and Magnolia Electric Co. The workmen are out on the road, with one fine album in the rearview (the mournful country-rock of last year’s Fading Trails, which is holding up very well), and another already percolating. Checking in from the road, Molina talked to The Red Alert about farming schedules, retired songs, and his love ‘em and leave ‘em behind approach to songwriting.
When I was setting this interview up with Abe [Morris, at Secretly Canadian], he mentioned that you don’t have a cell phone - and I was left a little awestruck. Is that a deliberate, principled sort of thing?
Why on earth would I need to be in contact with the whole world all of the time? I still sit down and write letters and once in a while actually drop in on a friend. I am amazed at how lonely people must be that they have to have this telephone in their pocket all day.
Do you feel like a veteran now when you’re out on the road? You’ve been at it a while, obviously-does the touring lifestyle get more comfortable with time (and steadier audiences), or does it get harder to psyche yourself up for hitting the highways?
Doing these long tours all over the world are just part of doing this type of music. I love to meet people, hear their stories and to find a few of my own along the way. It is not easy and there really is not a moment of rest; it is letting yourself be at the mercy of the day and the night. It makes you really appreciate your home, or what you might call home when you get there.
I’ve read that you’re very disciplined about your songwriting, as far as making sure that you make the time for it on a daily or near-daily basis. Are you writing while you’re on the road, too?
I write lyrics about every day on the road. It is hard to finish anything in the van and in the venues, but it is a part of my regular day. When I am done with a tour or have a couple of days off, I try to edit my raw material into something more concrete. I have been writing songs for films the last few months and also new songs for the next Magnolia Electric Company LP.
When you’re home and writing, and you hit those days where nothing comes (I assume those days come), do you push through it and try to produce something, or do you walk away from it and say, okay, I’m doing something else?
If I run into a day like that, I jump on the train and go to a part of the city I don’t know and try to find something new to watch or to learn from. I don’t whip my writing self into doing something for the sake of doing something. But there is no inspiration with this-it is all work and more work and pushing what you know into something you should know more about. It is hard and rewarding work.
I also read that you’re an early riser. I’m personally a rather extreme night owl, but it sounds like we enjoy the same thing about those schedules-watching the city or the world come alive. It’s just that I like watching it wake up and then saying, “Okay, everything’s fine for another day - I’m going to bed.”
I like to keep a farmer’s schedule. I live by that early to bed, early to rise motto. I don’t have that luxury on the road, of course, but still try to get up as early as I can. We played the Fillmore last night and I was still up before 7 am to go look at the San Francisco Bay and have a proper cup of coffee.
Do you “retire” songs from your repertoire? Is it likely or unlikely that you would be stumped by an obscure or outdated fan request from the back catalog?
New songs always replace older ones. These are not precious things to me; the most important thing is to write new songs. The old ones have a life in the memories and record collections of the fans.
An adjective that I’ve seen or heard applied to you on more than one occasion is “nice.” That’s a good thing, obviously. Here’s something I’ve grappled with myself over the years, and I was curious to get your take on it: if you meet someone who’s a complete piece of shit, but writes great songs, is your reaction to the music tainted by the personal knowledge? Or, for you, does art exist entirely outside of its creator, and can be appreciated as such?
That’s a hard one. I say let the art speak for itself. I know of a lot of piece of shit, wife-beating fuckfaces who have written beautiful love songs that 13-year-olds are singing in the mirror. The music in that case is just something that had to come out; the personal history of the writer is worthless to me.
In most interviews, I hear that the new album really feels like the best album yet. The others will say that choosing between albums would be like choosing between children. In reading a bunch of your past interviews, it seemed to me that you would be in the latter camp—is that a correct assessment?
The second I walk out of Electrical Audio, the studio where I choose to do nearly all of my recording, I am starting on the next record. It is a ritual. When the tapes go out to mastering, they are parting the waters for the next family of songs to be written. I don’t believe in talent or giftedness—it is just work and more work. If lightning hits me, it won’t be to inspire me to write a great song—it will be to wipe me off the earth.
The obvious question, then, is what’s next in the pipeline?
More and more touring, editing the several dozen new songs down into something that we can record this year in Chicago. Hopefully a surprise release in the fall.
Your lyrics often convey a very precise mood, but seldom tip their hand too much when it comes to a narrative or what the song is quote-unquote “about.” Do you ever have to edit in order to keep the lyrics from telling too much?
I leave the narrative songs to Nick Cave and Bill Callahan and Will Oldham and Townes Van Zandt.
Finally, if we were sitting around and not talking about music, what might we be talking about? What’s been getting a lot of time on your mind lately?
Baseball season. Shortwave radios. Navajo blankets. Calton guitar cases. Farms where old workhorses, mules, and donkeys are able to live out their days in peace.