"There was a little snafu this morning with my (drivers) license," he says from his house in Indianapolis. "We found out that it was suspended from a driving ticket from about three years ago, and, since I'm about to go on tour, that would be bad for driving, because I would go straight to the clink."

There was something dubious about why there seemed to be no record of his payment.
"It's funny, the ticket was taken care of, but they don't give you any proof that you paid a moving violation," said Molina who was obviously perplexed. "I just have a canceled check for the amount of the ticket. It was actually good enough to get my license back. But, theoretically, I could have written that check to anyone and never cashed it.
"It was such a small town that I didn't (write the check out to the city). It was a judge that I wrote the check to in Monahan, Texas, which is a very small place. I thought that was fishy. But, I thought, 'I guess that's how they do it in Texas.' It's still 1840 down there."

Perhaps somewhere in Monahan, there's a judge who picked up a little beer money on Molina's tab? We'll never know, but that episode is now fading in Molina's rearview mirror as he is now able to refocus on what lays ahead of him - touring in support of the recently released album, Magnolia Electric Company.

In fact, Magnolia Electric Company is now the name for what was known for the better part of the past ten years as Songs: Ohia. "It's another one of the millions of decisions I've made that will absolutely guarantee that I will lose records sales," says Molina with a laugh. He also says the time had come where he had finally come full circle with his extensive catalogue of songs when he released 2001's Didn't It Rain album. "It seemed like I was finally able to put together a whole record of songs that I felt like I got all the points across in a more coherent way, and I felt that changing the name now is a good time marker for me. I could wake up tomorrow and feel like I don't want to tour anymore, make records, or something like that. I would like to think that the Songs: Ohia era is a done thing."

But why not just call it the Jason Molina project and cash in on his established reputation?
"One of the main reasons for not calling the project that is because the songs pretty much say everything I need to say about me specifically," he says. "So I don't want to take away from what's on the record by somehow having people read more into who I am instead of what is on the record. It has never been totally about me. And, if we're not maintaining the consistency of the music and the musicianship then I feel like I might feel the pressure to live up to some artificial idea of me personally."

He's right. The songwriting speaks for itself. And no where does that so clearly resonate as it does in the songs that made it onto the new record. Magnolia is a collection of songs about reconciliation, laying down roots, bruised will, and saying goodbye, which bring to mind the Americana of the Flying Burrito Brothers and the gargantuan guitar work of Neil Young. And at the heart of it all is Molina's voice - a delicate, high pitched vibrato that, while strong and purposeful in it's delivery, seems it could shatter into a million pieces at the slightest provocation. The result makes for a highly emotive mixture that has established Molina as a formidable storyteller.
Songs: Ohia had a constantly revolving lineup, and Magnolia maintains this tradition. But the flux in band membership isn't due to enormous egos, or any such internal strife. But it does have everything to do with the limited resource of being signed to an independent label.

"It's definitely a revolving line-up," admits Molina. "I'm skilled at putting a band together, doing a tour, (and) doing a record. But, when you plan very, very far in advance around a lot of people who don't have the luxury of being full time musicians that's really hard on them with regards to scheduling. So, I have a bass player for two weeks of the tour, then he's got to go, and I have to get somebody else who's totally unrehearsed that is going to meet us in Georgia. He's going to hit the stage, and hopefully he can wing it. I am used to it though. I have a network of musicians around the world these days. Well, from Australia, the States, and Europe."
When the band hits the road this week they will start out as a three piece for the first stretch of dates. After that the lineup will begin to swell and morph.

"After the first few dates we will meet up with this person that plays trumpet, and accordion," says Molina. "Then we'll play fifteen shows like that, then we'll go to Spain and Portugal and add a different drummer, and our drummer will go to bass, and we'll add another guitarist. Also, Jennie Benford, who sings and plays mandolin on the last two or three records, will join us and we'll play a string of shows in the Mid-West, ending in Chicago where we'll record. So, the whole band will never have played all the material for any real length of time by the time we get into the studio."

Steve Albini, who produced Magnolia Electric Company, will be at the helm of the next album as well, and Molina is jazzed that the musicians he'll be recording the next record with will be relatively unfamiliar with the material once they enter the studio.

"It's going to be great because I know how much the songs are going to change," he says. "The songs are really simple, and I think that if you overwork them they really lose all their vitality when it's time to record. That's why I like working with really random amalgamations of people in the studio that don't really know the material, or who are not form the same world of music."