Songs: Ohia Impala LP

Impala, the fabled second Songs: Ohia full-length, originally released in 1998 and long out-of-print, enjoys a 2025 vinyl reissue by the Secretly Canadian label. This release includes the addition of a remastered demo of "Tess" originally captured during recording sessions for Impala.

"Lorain, Ohio; it's a tough place to grow up. You either escape or you don't. Given the industry that exists (or existed) there — the steel mill, Ford plant, and shipyard — the mix of people is like none other. One thing is for sure though, it's blue collar through and through. What's this have to do with a new release from Songs: Ohia? Well, Jason — main Songs man, like myself, grew up in this god-forsaken hole of a city and as much as you can leave the city, it never leaves you.

"Impala offers further testament to the songwriting talents of Jason Molina. The tracks contained herein offer a glimpse into the soul of a man burdened with trying to exorcise the demons of life, loss, and subsistence. This isn't something one can fake. It comes from growing up with the knowledge that the factories your parents worked in are not an option for you and that your only real option is to try and get out (easier said than done).

"Pared down to only Jason and Geof Comings for this release, the tracks on Impala are simultaneously the sparsest and most textured yet to be released by the band. Consider this to be the one of the most honest and strongest releases from Songs: Ohia. Our suggestion: Head to the local Knights of Columbus, grab a seat at the bar, order a Genesee, and drink away your paycheck to this one. That's what they're doing in Lorain."

From the opening, seven-plus-minute salvo of Spartan, 5 a.m. introspection of 'An Ace Unable to Change' — with its quiet rolling guitar and organ lines — to the haunted, rustic trilogy that closes the album, the light that Molina's songwriting lets in is just enough to catch a glimpse of a sepia-toned, nearly forsaken nostalgia. It's beautiful, less-is-more Americana, suggestive more of the hard-bitten folks populating the literary works of authors E. Annie Proulx or Daniel Woodrell than any straight-talking, rhythmic strumming folky troubadour. By the time the dust settles, Impala leaves a sense of longing hanging in the air. A lovely, peeling, chipped record of emotional decay.