When Songs: Ohia signed with Secretly Canadian in 1996, the label was barely even a label. It was just a couple of college kids who had heard and fallen in love with the single Jason Molina had recorded for Palace Records earlier that year. But both the singer-songwriter and the label hit the ground running: In 1997, they released Songs: Ohia's self-titled debut album as well as its first LP, Hecla & Griper. Molina released at least one-- and very often two or three-- albums every year until 2003, when Songs: Ohia morphed into Magnolia Electric Co. It was largely on the strength of Molina’s keening and affecting vocals as well as his poignant and probing songwriting that both the band and the label flourished throughout the late 1990s and into the 21st century.
At the time of his death this past March, Molina and Secretly Canadian were planning to reissue releases from the darker corners of his catalog, and the first to see the light is the Hecla & Griper EP, which appears on vinyl for the first time. Molina, a Ohio native, took a short break from touring to stop off in Bloomington, Indiana, and cut a few tracks with Daniel Burton. The result is a set of songs that are disarmingly raw and unbounded, less polished than even Songs: Ohia from that same year. Burton’s production is spartan to match the arrangements, which feature Molina’s signature tenor guitar and only occasional contributions from a handful of musicians.
Hecla & Griper sounds suitably lonely and beleaguered, two moods Molina conveyed with innate conviction. Especially compared to his later work with Magnolia Electric Co., his voice pierces through these songs almost violently, high-pitched as usual but with a sharper nasal quality that suggests an unassuming, untrained performer: a regular guy who simply stepped up to the mic and started speaking his mind. Except there were some dark thoughts in that mind. At times Hecla plays like a statement of purpose, a prologue to his career: “If I decide to smile and fake it, the lord would ne’er forgive that sin,” Molina sings on the opener “Pass”, a slip of a song-- barely a minute long. “I take the words the angels tell me, and I’m singing it from my conscience.”
And yet, there is some humor on here. Molina was hardly one to crack a joke mid-song, but you can get a sense of his casual humor just by reading a few interviews. “I first chose you for my all-star team,” he claims on “Easts Last Heart”, which uses a baseball metaphor to decry the wealth divide: “Rich kid, I’m talking to you!” he concludes, as if you might have missed his target. Molina ends Hecla with a Conway Twitty cover, “Darling…” (popularly known as “Hello Darling”), and seems to relish the opportunity to sing someone else’s words. Considering that this EP was recorded just after the height of the 90s alt-country movement-- when upstart acts often played the part of rough-and-tumble hayseeds-- Molina doesn’t condescend to the song or its source material, which is not to say he doesn’t have a little fun with it. He speaks the vocal hook with resignation, suggesting the song is only an imaginary conversation-- what he wishes he had the guts to say to his darlin’.
This 15th anniversary edition includes two unreleased tracks, as well as early versions of songs that would show up on Impala in 1998. “Debts” and “Pilot & Friend” show just how deep Molina’s catalog goes; especially the former, with its curious organ lines, could have been the centerpiece of this or another EP, although “Pilot & Friend” sounds too halting, as Molina’s howl turns into a caterwaul that tests the limits of the microphone. The two Impala tracks are the fullest numbers here: “Hearts Newly Arrived” sounds more frayed and jittery here than it does on Impala, as Molina navigates the tempo changes with a frantic energy and galloping guitars. Insistent drums drive “One of Those Uncertain Heads”, which features a more pointed vocal from Molina that hard-sells the songs’ apocalyptic visions.
Overall, there’s a scratchy, isolated feel to Hecla & Griper that’s similar to Autumn Bird Songs, the final release of new material in Molina’s lifetime. Without suggesting too perfect a circle or too tidy a conclusion to his working life, that comparison does reveal a certain aesthetic that carried through his entire 16-year career. Molina believed in the song at its most primal and most austere, understanding that he could get his point across better with minimal adornment. For him, the power of these songs comes through in the spaces between syllables and notes, where Molina can catch a breath and simply let the silence say its peace. Hecla & Griper is a minor release in his sprawling catalog, yet that does not mean it’s insignificant: This is the sound of a man who was only just getting started.
