Until last year, it never occurred to me to name an annual top make-out song. Whether this was due to a lack of appropriate music or a lack of appropriate kissers in my life I don't care to speculate, the point being that in 1999 things finally came together for me. The song was Songs: Ohia's "Captain Badass," and despite its decidedly unromantic title, the pairing of Jason Molina's solemn vocals with guest Edith Frost's sultry ones was strangely affecting. Molina managed the challenging task of penning heartfelt, desperation-tinged lyrics with a dignity rarely witnessed in modern indie rock.
Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not an emo fan, and Songs: Ohia are not an emo band. Jason Molina may be more sincere than most, but he's more a musical peer of Will Oldham and Manishevitz than the Gloria Record. Songs: Ohia records are composed of melancholy acoustic ballads fusing folk and country, and while Molina doesn't shy away from writing about love, his aren't songs that could be subtitled, "How I Felt When the Second Girlfriend in a Row Left Me for a Member of Hot Water Music."
Aided this time around by members of Arab Strap and Appendix Out, Molina has crafted a more subtle and consistent record. "Tigress," "Coxcomb Red" and the album's title track each come close to achieving the status I've granted to "Captain Badass." And it may be that the only thing preventing me from fully embracing these songs is the stereotype of the predatory woman that runs theme-like throughout them.
At any rate, Molina's songwriting here is much stronger than on last year's Axxess and Ace, but he's abandoned some of the guests who helped make the album so affecting when he opted to record in Scotland, rather than the U.S. Edith Frost's absence is felt most notably, since her vocals added a compelling counterpoint to Molina's somber delivery. Appendix Out are, on the whole, probably better suited to the Songs: Ohia style, but some of the freshness and novelty of the live Axxess sessions, recorded with collaborators Michael Krassner and David Pavkovic of Boxhead Ensemble are lost, making The Lioness a decidedly more resigned and less passionate affair.
So despite hot lyrics like, "And I wanted that heat so bad/ I could taste the fire on your breath," Songs: Ohia will not claim the dubious honor of my make-out artist of the year twice in a row. It's nothing personal; 2000 just hasn't found me requiring that tinge of desperation.
