Magnolia Electric Co.

Songs: Ohia fans, consider this a test of faith. The unstable, minor-key discomfort of Ghost Tropic is long gone, and for the first time, Will Oldham comparisons will be shelved by critics in favor of, god forbid, Bob Seger. The wailing, desperate spirits that plagued Jason Molina through his earlier albums have been banished, mostly; others have come to help him light candles against the darkness, and now "something's got to change." So he's left the quiet sorrow of Didn't It Rain sucking the diesel fumes of 70s roots-rock by the shoulder of a lonely stretch of highway, consciously emulating his ancestors in a long line of working-class heroes. No matter what you might think of Seger (and pretty much anything would be justified), or the earthy bombast of the time, such simple honesty as Molina's is always in style, and the results are rarely less than excellent.

It may simply be the natural progression from the slightly fuller sound of Didn't It Rain, but the overt desire to move on preoccupies Molina. If the last album was a lamentation on finding home in Chicago and the sheer inertia of blue-collar hand-to-mouth, then Magnolia Electric Co. is about finding the strength to move, to grow, and to leave it all behind. "While you've been busy crying about my past mistakes/ I've been busy tryin' to make a change/ And now I've made a change," is Molina's righteous cry in the early moments of "I've Been Riding with the Ghost"; it's this bittersweet sentiment that forms the lingering heart of this album. But then, with the unearthly call of steel pedal strings and the line, "See, I ain't gettin' better/ I'm only gettin' behind," the motivation for this need to pick up stakes becomes evident. It's beyond just a noble determination not to succumb to the stagnation of poverty or routine, and when the first hints of an underlying fear crack the façade, the effect transcends the allegorical simplicity of gallant idealism to something far more moving, something almost indescribably human.

These themes are echoed even more poignantly on the title-says-it-all opener "Farewell Transmission", perhaps the most powerful Songs: Ohia tune yet: "I will try/ No one ever really tries/ I will be gone/ But not forever." This stirring mix of melancholy and hope which Molina consistently finds in his lyrics is swelled to epic levels by the driving alt-country pride and a painfully plaintive refrain. Molina's fixation on the symbolic romanticism of the moon and the darkness might be predictable, but it continues to impress as he segues from heartaching confessional to oblique metaphor in a single breath.

When Magnolia Electric Co. hits its stride in tracks like these, and others like "Almost Was Good Enough", it soars over Molina's previous work, but it's not an unqualified success. First, although the rotating lineup of Songs: Ohia players recasts familiar faces Jennie Benford as Backing Vocal #1 and the Mi Sei Apparso Come un Fantasma musicians as The Band, Molina's brought along Lawrence Peters and Scout Niblett as Guest Vocalists #1 and #2, respectively, and he turns the reins over to them on "The Old Black Hen" and "Peoria Lunch Box", to decidedly mixed results. Neither singer seems to connect with the written material, leading to slightly flattened deliveries of what might otherwise have been breathtaking in Molina's broken drawl.

Niblett does all right for herself, still managing to infuse "Lunch Box" with a sort of haunting (if off-key) resignation, but Peters is more problematic. His fatherly, Haggard croon is a little more upbeat than the subject matter, and he sounds an awful lot like someone who should be saving his tears in the beer bottles he keeps in the back of his burnt-out pickup (with his dog) while he drives down dusty country roads, and the thunder rolls, and the lightning... whatever. Depending on one's tolerance for that hardcore country-soaked vibe, he's either extremely impressive or just awful. But either way, he's not Molina, whose voice you bought this disc to hear.

Aside from that, the music doesn't always support the strength of Molina's words, especially in the gratuitously stormy "John Henry Split My Heart", but that's less a shot at the compositions than a testament to the wrenching sincerity of the lyrics. It takes a colossal effort to back Molina's candor, and given what a departure this record is for the band, it's not surprising that some of the songs get bogged down here and there. It's also not much of a problem; in the end, the more obviously misguided moments will be long forgotten, left in the roadside dust. Magnolia Electric Co. is the sound of change. It may be uncertain whether this is the journey of a man moving towards what he wants to become, or away from what he has been, but it's a great ride regardless.