Figuring Out the Mournful Rock of Jason Molina

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By Gregory Crofton

I want to hear a Jason Molina metal record.

I don’t think he ever made one, but he grew up on Ozzy and Metallica and the first few bands he was in were metal, one was named Chronic Insanity.

Molina could be goofy and loved making penis jokes, but according to a new documentary about his life directed by his friend Tommy Nickoloff, he took art seriously.

Molina’s “mope rock,” as one friend describes it in the film, is epic and mysterious and wonderful. As I peel through his deep catalog of tunes (most under Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co.), one after another stuns.

First signed by Will Oldam, a pioneer of new kind of folk rock in the 90s, Molina’s words are what stick. He was smart, attended Oberlin College and Conservatory on a scholarship, and his lyrics show what a creative and predictive mind he had.

One of his many Songs: Ohia songs “Wondrous Love” went like this: “And when from death I’m free I’ll sing on, I’ll sing on / And when from death I’m free I’ll sing on/ And when from death I’m free I’ll sing and joyful be / Throughout eternity I will sing I will sing.”

Molina told Tommy after they met on a high school soccer field and soon became friends that he should be an artist too. He meant it. Molina was serious about most of the things he did and did often not temper or withhold his point of view.

In his 50s, Nickoloff heeded his friend’s advice by making “You Fuckers Figure It Out: A Jason Molina Story.” The project began in 2021 with encouragement from its director of photography Kristy Walker and it is being screened at film festivals around the country in 2026.

I saw Molina perform at the small independent rock club The End in Nashville around 2009. He might have been drunk though he didn’t seem it. I think I remember him drinking from a styrofoam cup on stage. This was before he died from alcoholism in 2013 and no one really knew he had a drinking problem.

During the show, which was a short one, there was a plastic tip bucket on top of a monitor and he kicked it into the crowd during the second song shouting away from the mic “I don’t play for fucking tips.”

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After he died seemingly suddenly at 39, I connected that moment of aggression to what might have been in his styrofoam cup. The set with his band Magnolia Electric Co. was an odd one, probably because he was in a bad mood but his beautiful, mournful voice was there. I heard it floating in the air inside the club. I left unsatisfied but glad I made the effort to see him play live.

Nickoloff’s new doc is a near perfect match to its subject with a do-it-yourself aesthetic, as Molina would have wanted it. Very cool black-and-white animated illustrations break the film into chapters.

You hear from Molina’s family and friends and bandmates. He was a “choose your own adventure” kind of guy. He liked to keep things ambiguous to such an extent that often friends didn’t know if he was telling the truth. Like how one time he might have met George Jones.

His lyrics and were filled with allegory involving ghosts, wolves, moons, and fire. “I want my last look to be the moon in your eyes,” he sings in “Lioness.”

“Ghosts were as real as the moon and the road,” said Max Winter, who played bass for Songs: Ohia. “He was a spooked guy. … He was always seeing ghosts and sometimes that ghost was him.”

Molina grew up on the wind-whipped shore of Lake Erie in Lorain Ohio. The family’s single-wide trailer was not well insulated and Jason would hunker down near their kerosene heater to stay warm. After he graduated high school, he never looked back said his sister. He was determined to be a rock star. Now he is one.

Molina’s career lasted about 12 years in which he played more than 800 live shows around the world. He stayed busy, recording 24 albums plus a bunch of singles.

His legacy will grow. This doc will help that happen. It has exposed me to his music again. I thought I knew it — ‘Oh yeah, “Farewell Transmission” is great’ — but I hadn’t come close to hearing all the beauty he left behind. Thank you Mr. Nickoloff and crew. True art works every time.

Find the latest about the film by visiting You Fuckers Figure It Out.