Magnolia Electric Co. was at Electrical Audio when they found out Michael Dahlquist was dead.
Bottomless Pit was at Electrical Audio when we found out Jason Molina was dead.
Our first trips out east/west were due 100% to Mags taking us along for the ride.
They wanted someone to do about a month of shows all told.
“Uh…how about if we cherry-pick the best three or four shows on each coast, and you pay us like we’re bringing an extra 100 people in, instead of the 30 we really know we’re doing?”
They went for it.
Our group’s collective wounds were still fresh in the wake of Michael’s death. We were still finding our sea legs, to say the least. It hurt to play.
We took to all of those guys instantly. They made us feel completely welcome and at home. It was a very soft landing and a great way to get moving. I would have loved to have done more shows with them.
JMo was a hugely enthusiastic, lovable man. He was an unreconstructed weirdo. He was hilarious. Even when he was being a cranky bitch he was pretty funny. I saw him too drunk a couple of times. It was uncomfortable, and I know I didn’t see him at his worst.
If that phone call had been “Molina is in town and not uncomfortably drunk” instead of “Molina is dead,” we would have dropped everything and spent yesterday evening hanging out. We would have rather done that than made a record.
JMo slept, sweat, and bled music. I would call his obsession with his art pathological, but he had genuine pathologies and now is not the time to be glib.
He was a great writer. He was a great singer.
He didn’t know when to quit in either art or life. Couldn’t quit, more like it. But I’m not so sure music didn’t rescue him and keep him afloat longer than he would have been without it.
I’ve missed him for a while, now with the unmistakeable extra knife-twist of finality.
Be good to each other. You never know, for better or worse, you never know.