Sunday, August 25, 2013

Something terrible has happened.

Jason Molina died, back in March.  I wrote about him once before; I didn't know he'd passed.  Hadn't thought to google his name.

Over a decade ago I accidentally saw Jason Molina playing live to a tiny crowd, when I was a horrible alcoholic locked in a savage dance with another horrible alcoholic who dragged me out to see his favorite bands (good taste, dat bugga).  It was during a festival, and Songs: Ohia was just one of a bunch of people playing, and I just happened to be there.  It was one of the best gifts that dance partner ever gave me.

I'll never forget how intense it was--how Jason Molina hypnotized a frenetic group of bored strangers into silence with his music, how alone he looked on the stage.  He wasn't a big guy, and his voice was lilting, surprisingly high and melodic.  He knew when he'd won us over; I remember his expression at the end of the set, something resigned and satisfied and afraid painted his white face, and then he hid it all under a hat.  I wonder what we looked like to him, if he could see us at all, if the spotlight was blinding.  

It's sad to see him go.