JASON MOLINA cannot run from the shadow of NEIL YOUNG. Old Shakey looms over the vast recorded landscape of Molina like a heavy, dense fog. The fat Gibson Les Paul sound and the plaintive tenor of the vocals are keys to this association, but the mid-tempo rockers and delicate acoustic sketches firmly anchor this musical ballast around the On The Beach to Zuma-era, and if you are going to focus on one era of Neil’s work to use as a starting point, you cannot do any better. I think Jason’s also concluded that it’s not a bad place to be either; at this point, I’d conjecture that Jason’s just fine with where he is right now, and aside from the absolute crucial stretch of records from The Lioness to Magnolia Electric Company, is making the finest music of his career. Upon the recent release of the ambitious Sojourner box set (as if he’s not prolific enough, he just plied his fanbase with a deluxe wooden crate stuffed with three CDs, an EP, and a DVD), he assembled many of the same band members he’s had for the last couple of years to do the second half of what he does best: get out on the road and play the new songs (crafting these songs would be the other half).
Straight out of the gate, the band hit good stride with “Hammer Down,” a song which was reworked on Sojourner from its original version on What Came After the Blues; a few other retooled songs would also join the setlist tonight, including a heartbreaking rendition of “Leave The City,” and “Hard To Love A Man.” Molina’s songs often describe bleak and rather sad situations, but he’s never crestfallen and takes full responsibility for his actions; titling a song “Cross the Road, Molina” points to this pretty directly. When he sings “you said you only wanted friends for long enough/to get rid of them/you found the kind you knew would only kill ya/so you surrounded yourself with them/” from “The Dark Don’t Hide It,” you know he’s got some dark days ahead, but he keeps his chin up and doesn’t shirk from the burden. Whereas lately Neil’s subject matter (especially the acoustic songs) always seems to have a homespun flavor, Molina does not have a problem basking under the harsh naked light bulb of critical self-assessment.
One slight complaint about the set was the unyielding sameness to the tempo; of course, as this was a MAGNOLIA ELECTRIC COMPANY show and not a Jason Molina solo show, the spare acoustic songs weren’t going to be played, but the electric songs all moved along at the same pace. Guitarist Jason Groth (also of THE IMPOSSIBLE SHAPES, a great band in their own right) had a great tone, though, as he played through opener J. Soda’s vintage analog gear with a telecaster. The WATSON TWINS’ bass player would also join Jason et al for a few songs, to allow MEC bass player Mackie to take up a seat behind the pedal steel guitar, and that was an excellent move. Playing “Farewell Transmission” never hurts either, probably one of the most well-known, best-loved, and greatest songs that Molina’s ever written, his final exhortations to “listen” ringing through the song’s ending coda.
The Watson Twins were only vaguely on my radar screen as I’d heard that singer JENNY LEWIS of RILO KILEY-fame corralled the sisters Chandra and Leigh Watson for a record last year. It seemed like an odd move, as both sisters have great voices on their own—I’ve not heard that record so I can’t comment, but from a distance it seems like an embarrassment of riches, too much of a good thing. On their own and with their own band, they tilled a similar field to Neil Young’s Comes A Time record, slightly upbeat acoustic numbers that weren’t sparsely skeletal, but breathed and gave room to their wistful, dulcet tones. Favorite “Shoot Out The Lights” (a knowing nod to RICHARD THOMPSON, perhaps?) was eventually played, as were a few new, yet-to-be recorded songs. Solid set from a band I wasn’t familiar with when I stepped in the club; it’s always a nice surprise to find a good opener about whom you knew nothing about beforehand.
