While touring for their latest album Josephine, MAGNOLIA ELECTRIC CO. stopped by the 40 WATT in ATHENS, GA for a show. I was lucky enough to talk to frontman Jason Molina a bit before the show.
Beyond nervous, I got meet one of my musical heroes, Jason Molina. We talked about how vinyl media has influenced his album crafting, and he explained how their no-nonsense production emerged. When faced with the decision between studio and stage, Molina would choose the kitchen table. He’s not surprised to his lost things in weird places, so he’s taken to shredding his song notebooks and burning his unfinished song tapes. th
Full Transcript (Audio):
Nichole Bennett: I’m Nichole and I’m at the 40 Watt in Athens, GA. I am lucky enough to be with the one and only Jason Molina.
JM: How do you do?
NB: …who is rumored to be one of the hardest-working people in the showbiz.
JM: No. Well, I do write a lot. I do put a lot of sweat into it. I work a lot harder putting together songs, groups of songs and song cycles and the bigger picture of songs, than the entertainment side of it.
NB: So if you had to tell the story of Magnolia Electric Co. going back to Songs: Ohia and back to some of your solo stuff, would it be a pop-up book or a graphic novel?
JM: Definitely a graphic novel with no words.
NB: A silent graphic novel. I think I’d like to read that. Well I guess you wouldn’t read it.
JM: Yeah me too.
NB: Speaking of how hard you work, is anywhere home for you? I know you live in London now, away from your band.
JM: Correct, the band is still in southern Indiana. I still have a house in Indianapolis and hope to one day get back to Chicago. For the time being I’m trying to make London work. Just circumstance led to me living there, and it’s a difficult place to find musicians. Well, it’s difficult to find people without a preconceived notion of what I want out of playing music. Just getting four musicians together to play and see what happens has been really difficult. It’s been a really rocky road. It’s been two years. I’ve ended up flying people from the U.S. over and people from other places in Europe to come and play. Since Josephine was finished, I’ve finished about six projects. I’m working. I write a lot of songs. It just hasn’t been as easy. I know most places in the U.S. if you just throw a rock, you’re going to hit a good musician.
NB: So your latest record is Josephine. The other week, I was playing it for someone and then playing some of your older stuff for them so they could get an idea of some of the changes in a backwards anthology. And I’ve been searching for the word to describe the difference with the new album. It’s not necessarily more minimalistic. It’s almost less bombastic. Is that something that was intentional or something that just arose organically?
JM: While I was writing these songs that became the Josephine LP, I was thinking about things to leave out. I would come up with a lot of ideas, and before committing them to a tape or an arrangement with all of these ideas, I would see if there was any reason to have these other things. Usually there wasn’t a reason because it was kind of forced. I would extract parts. In Josephine there are a lot of references musically to a lot of records I’ve done in the past. So no only lyrically is it a cyclical…cycle. Hah, a cyclical cycle. There’s a lot of lyrical references to older records. There are musical passages that are in there bookending some brand new songs. So I really put everything in there.
NB: Coming from a consumer point of view, I only see the finished product. I know you had to cut some songs out. But to me it’s a very complete, almost vinyl, package with a side A and a side B.
JM: Exactly.
NB: Is that something that you had intended?
JM: Always. For every record I’ve done it like that. For most of the time I’ve been making records, I’ve had the CD as an option. I grew up listening to records. When I write songs, and I start to see a record coming together I don’t see this 78 minute long piece of work. I love doing a side A and a side B. It’s almost like every song is a chapter and then there’s a break in the book and you get the rest of the chapters. Hopefully, when you get to that last song you get a fully-realized story.
NB: You were saying that this one borrows lyrically and somewhat musically from some of your earlier work, and you do have some pretty pervasive themes and metaphors throughout your work. It’s almost not so much about events and stories as it is about feelings. I guess you could take it from there.
JM: Yeah, the listener has to come up with their own story. If tied to the actual sonic imprint of the record, like the recording style and the musical arrangement and the lyrics. If those things all come together then I don’t feel like something was added at the end to add atmosphere. For instance, if you have a finished song. It’s in its best state for you as an artist, and then you decide “let’s add some freaky reverb or delay” to this part. If the piece doesn’t call out for that, then I would feel like I was committing a sin against the song. The song didn’t ask for it. A lot of the mood to the records comes through just the way of recording. Some of the most renegade records that we did were on a four-track or in someone’s basement with a couple of rickety mics and some duct tape and, you know, a wing and a prayer. These are albums that are still in print and people are still seeking out, and I think that’s grade. If the skeleton, the bones of the thing, are good—the lyrics and the attitude going in to the project—if that’s solid, then the other things that people latch onto like if this is a higher production value record or if this sounds home recorded. That stuff is incidental to me if the song is good. Some of my favorite music was recorded in the 20s and 30s in a hotel room with a microphone and a guy on a guitar just banging his heart out.
NB: And with recent music, so many people are going back in and tweeking their music. There are so many layers now, and it’s almost brave to have things be so bare.
JM: There can be no end to adjusting songs. Even when you’re recording in an analog world, you could spend weeks or months on a song and still do a hell of a lot to it. I want our songs to be a document of what we have with as many arms and voices and shit to pound on that we can do live. Then, if we wanted to go back and add something that we couldn’t do live, if the song required a little bit more, then that’s fine. The song will call out for that.
NB: So that being said, do you prefer studio or stage? I guess that would make them very similar.
JM: A kitchen table. Studio, for sure. I could live in a studio, and in a lot of ways I really wish I did. I’m not really interested in all of the technical elements of recording because I’ve put all of my energy and self-learning into writing songs. I know the value of having a good technician there to document this is just amazing because I don’t have to worry about that. Some people love it, and it actually spark a hell of a lot of creativity. While I’m trying to put together a basic chord progression and make sure that the lyrics have a solid landing ground, I know there a lot of musicians who are thinking of exactly what to do to get this one sound while they are still in the process of writing. It’s just a different way of working, but I would prefer the studio. I really enjoy the studio.
NB: You have some hobbies other than music, don’t you? You do a bit of art.
JM: I do. I do a lot of painting and drawing. On the road I don’t get much done. It’s hard to do in the van, but I work small now and not have paint out because paint in a van rolling down the highway gets hard. It’s hard to write lyrics in the van too. You might have 9 hours in the van, but it’s just awkward to write. I do everything in longhand, and it’s just crazy. It’s mayhem, but I do find myself getting a notebook full of ideas and sometimes a full song. If that doesn’t work out, I just get the pencils out and start drawing.
NB: What type of painting do you like to do?
JM: It’s lots of scribbles and just a little bit of color. It’s all really abstract stuff. I mean I do stupid drawings all the time just for fun, like cartoonish things. I do a little bit of figural stuff. The stuff that was inside the Sojourner box set were mine, but that was just a one off project that I was doing.
NB: Speaking of writing lyrics, is songwriting something that happens in which every song kind of comes similarly or are you just walking around and something comes to you? To me, songwriting is this magical thing.
JM: It’s rare that I’m hit with a lightening bolt of lyrical inspiration, but I may have an idea for a song. I’ll keep that with me. It may just go into my notebook. I may just keep it with me all day and keep revisiting it. I’m not the guy that sits down and has a song title in mind. I like the blank page and the challenge. The pencil and the page: I look at it, and I know I’m going to be sweating over it for a long time. There’s a lot that goes into the paper shredder. I’ll tell you. I actually started shredding lyrics recently because in London people go through everyone’s trash. It’s not that I’m worried about somebody finding my stuff, but there’s times I’ll be walking like a quarter of a mile from my house, and I’ll find part of a notebook of mine just laying in the park. Someone has found that in the trash and dug it out. I mean, it’s still trash, but that is really disturbing to see. You aren’t anywhere near your house and you’re walking. I’m like “That looks like my handwriting. What the fuck!” That’s just really weird.
NB: Wow!
JM: I’ll never forget one time I moved out of a place, and I left two days worth of clothes in my room. I was totally out of my room, and this was already worked out with the landlord that they weren’t going to have anybody in there. I wasn’t sure when I was going to be getting into the new place so I just left some basic things: a change of clothes and some shoes in a little pile. I go back, and my stuff’s all gone. I’m like “Shit! What happened to this stuff?” A year goes by…a couple of tours and stuff, and I’m in a thrift store in the same town that I used to live in and there’s my fucking stuff!
NB: Whoa!
JM: I bought my shoes back and the two rock t-shirts that I had were on the rack. I don’t know if they had been sitting there all that time or if they had finally made it to there. It was disturbing to buy that stuff back. I moved from Chicago and gave everything that I didn’t need to the Salvation Army. Three years when we move back, lo and behold, I’m like “There’s that fucking casserole dish of ours. It’s 25 cents, but I know its ours.” My whole life is kind of like that. It was most disturbing, though, to find my lyrics laying in the street.
NB: I can see why you’ve taken to shredding, but there’s something to permanence. Do you ever want any of them back out of the shredder?
JM: No. At new years I always ditch all of the songs that are totally unfinished. I burn them.
NB: Very interesting.
JM: I’ve been doing it for years and years, and it’s very liberating. It’s probably not the best thing in the world as far as pollution goes to burn a bunch of tapes. I’m not burning studio tapes here. I’m talking about cassette recordings. Four-track recordings and all of these half-filled notebooks of songs that just didn’t get finished. If I let that stuff accumulate, I’ll have a heart attack because I’ll look at that and think that it’s three years of work in order to get one finished product out of that.
NB: Do you ever read press about yourself?
JM: The label sends me a packet. After a record has been out for a year or something they’ll send me a paper copy of just a spectrum: some of the good stuff, some of the bad stuff, all of the really terrible stuff, and a little of the foreign stuff—just to get a handle on it. They know that I don’t read it all, so they don’t send me everything. I’m intrigued by it. I like to glance at it. A shitty review of a record doesn’t really hurt my feelings except when they’ve gotten it completely wrong on the factual side. This isn’t so much the case now, but in the cycle of Josephine, I’m getting the question all the time and the criticism that it’s been three years since Jason put out a record. What’s he been doing? And I’m like “Fuck you! Why don’t you fucking call me!” Because I did three records that just aren’t out yet and six more since November. So when they take the record at hand to task by saying “Well I guess he just hasn’t had any ideas, or he’s being lazy.” I’m like “Well, no. You’re wrong.” But that passes, in two seconds I couldn’t care less. The reason this is coming up is because no one asked me what I was doing. I would have said. I mean, it’s not a secret. I’m workin’.
NB: If you could be any animal what would you be?
JM: I’m like ten.
NB: That’s fine. You can say all ten.
JM: A wolf. A bat. A ram. Black spider. Snake. Sea serpent. An owl. That’s my starting.
NB: Thank you very much.
JM: That’s a ninja question!



