Josephine

Jason Molina has put out an album and/or EP every year since 1996, collaborating with some of the finest musicians in indiedom, under the Songs:Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. imprimaturs. Two of his solo records are destined to be regarded as dark masterpieces of lo-fi confessionalism, in spite of the handicap that Let Me Go, Let Me Go, Let Me Go was written and recorded in a single day. The death of MECo member Evan Farrell threw Molina and his band, though, and only after a respectful year of silence, did they decide to carry on, with Josephine as the first result.

Jason Molina used to wail. In a review of the Songs: Ohia album that gave Molina's Magnolia Electric Co. it's name, Eric Carr chastised a guest singer with, "[H]e's not Molina, whose voice you paid to hear." Another Forker, William Bowers, once referred to Molina's voice as an "occasionally erect vibrato." Like chalking a pool cue, Molina's distinctive bleat was a hedge against flaws, and even his best, most interesting albums feature many. You know where this is going. That final Songs: Ohia marked not just a stylistic shift for Molina, from doom-folker to classic rocker, but a vocal one as well: The man fell in love with his croon, an even, spread-able tenor, and one that has smoothed the edges of Molina's full-band works with Magnolia Electric Co.