NO MOON ON THE WATER

My Tribute To Jason Molina

no moon on the water
the way I'm acting it's no wonder
the blues come
I can't outrun 'em
I ain't foolin' me
I ain't foolin' no one
I have to work hard to suffer alone
I have to work harder to be so alone
don't like half of who I've been
but I've kept my promises to all of them
tie my wings behind my back
cut out my eyes and fill 'em with lead
cut off my head and put the black mules there
trade my heart for a fire
fill my bones with the grey wolf
face me to the shore
give me one reason to live
give me one single reason to live
don't have to be good

Jason Molina had one million songs inside him. Prolific does not do him justice.

Jason Molina battled demons and ghosts within him.

We witnessed these battles with every song he wrote and recorded.

Jason Molina battled himself.

Fragile, vulnerable, tormented, haunted, weak...

A losing battle.

Jason Molina was the most lethal cocktail the music world has ever seen.

One part Nick Drake. One part Townes Van Zandt.

Jason Molina's most preferred lyrical instrument was the moon.

Not the serene moon of tranquillity.

Not the big fat lovers moon.

But a moon that shone its pale light preventing the closure of day.

A moon that prevented the darkness from engulfing the demons.

A moon that haunted every inch of his being.

A moon so sad and relentlessly familiar to Jason.

Each song Jason Molina wrote and sang was a teardrop of the moon.

So, what comes after the the blues, Jason?

An immeasurable loss. Unlike that of Cobain. Unlike that of Buckley.

I just hope you knew you were deeply loved and deeply respected.

Even by the few.

Even by this handful.

It took me the better part of a month to find the courage for this humble tribute.

Humble as your demeanour.

Hubmling as the experience of listening to Jason's music.

I spent night upon night listening to the music this past few days.

I can't remember... was the moon pale when you left?

On that fateful day, didn't it rain?

 

Saints alive

And all the saints be praised

I see them all around me now

They've called and raised

Their jaws gone slack

Their yellow nails long and curling back

To scratch the phantom ache

Of our lost days

Oh, my love is here to stay

"Parker's Mood"                (JOE HENRY)