ROCK AND DROLL: A garage-folk masterpiece by Jim From Kansas


By Steven Capozzola


2020/Side 1

Jim From Kansas
Independent release, June 2020


When it was suggested that I review Jim From Kansas’ new album, ‘Made in 2020/Side 1,’ I’m sure people were expecting a humorous analysis comparing his work to The Beatles, Gandhi, and Milton Friedman. That would be a fun thing to do, of course—and easy to write. But in all honesty, I’m a fan. And it would be a far better thing if I could convince people that Jim writes really great songs.



Typically, when I want to sell someone on Jim’s music, I’ll cite a particular lyric of his: “I hear you got yourself a new bartender, I hope all your drinks come true.” I recite that line and people nod. They get it. It’s just a quick line, but it accurately conveys the wit and spunk in his work.



So here’s my thesis: Jim From Kansas writes endlessly great songs. Every song is “great”—it’s distinct, catchy, and contains smart little nuggets of lyrics.



I should note, however, that Jim has obvious musical shortcomings. He’s not a powerhouse vocalist. He smokes cigarettes—which has cut into his throat power over the years. He’s more likely to croak a line than belt it. And he often strums a similar mid-tempo country-rock rhythm on many of his songs.



But even with the raspy vocals and muted guitar, I find something very compelling in his work. Onstage, Jim will often stomp his shoe on the floor in time to a particular lyric. He may even come to a dead stop in moments like that. He’ll pause in his strumming to look out at the audience. He’ll smile a crinkly grin—and the audience will feel the weight of a particularly lyric, no matter the softness in his vocal delivery.



That warmth is part of what makes ‘Made in 2020/Side 1’ such an enjoyable listen. Several of the album’s seven songs seem to start off with the haphazard jiggling of ice in a nearby cocktail glass. And that cocktail rattle runs almost like connective tissue throughout the album. But it’s all part of an endearingly low-fi recording style—including the occasional twang of a vaguely-out-of-tune guitar. It puts the salt in Jim’s country-dirge arrangements. And there’s also a localized flavor—one that celebrates the people and places of his adopted hometown of Woodstock, New York. For example, the song “Crooked Days Like These” locates the album quite well with its fun wordplay of “Here they come, over that hill, they’re in shouting distance of Palenville.”



This Woodstock charm is displayed most effectively on the album’s opening track, “My Kind Of Place.” Long a favorite tune of Jim’s friends and fans, the song recounts a typical, drunken night at the legendary (and recently closed) music venue Harmony Wok and Roll. Over a rhythmic acoustic groove, Jim slap-talks the lyrics: “There’s a woman in the corner, and she’s talking to a stoner, and she gives him a smile and a wink, ‘cause he’s looking better every drink, in my kind of place.”



There’s a keen eye for observation here, and also the first inkling of a strain of melancholy that recurs throughout the album. Is Jim the guy he’s describing—who draws a wink from the woman in the corner? Or is he simply observing the scene—which leaves him feeling slightly detached and removed from the very fun he’s celebrating.


It’s not all maudlin, however. That same eye also captures richly detailed moments of humor. Later in “My Kind Of Place” he spies another girl who “twirled so fast on the floor that she nearly took flight, she lost that twenty pounds in one night, I swear she put a hole in the floor.”



The album’s second track, “Hanging Around Too Long,” offers an equally bittersweet slant. It’s a recent song, and one that Jim has suggested as being autobiographical. There’s vulnerability here—but mixed in with Jim’s ever-present wit: “Me, I got a two-bit job, a two-bit flop where I can sleep. Finally figured out where I belong. A new girl moved to town last summer, same as the last ten years…I been hangin’ around this town too long.”



From a writing point of view, the song reveals a technique that Jim shares with Bob Dylan. Both frequently make use of a “repeating paragraph” song structure. Many of Dylan’s most famous songs feature repeating chord progressions that are used to sustain long sequences of paragraphs. At the conclusion of each paragraph, there’s always the big tag line—a hook phrase that continually sums up the song. “Tangled Up in Blue” and “Simple Twist of Fate” are good examples.



Jim does the same thing in much of his work. In both “My Kind Of Place” and “Hanging Around Too Long” he walks us through various snapshots of his daily life. And then he caps off each paragraph with a pithy refrain. In “My Kind Of Place” he tells us all about the action in his favorite bar—including the brawl taking place outside—and then concludes with “Time marches on, at a languid pace, in my kind of place.”



Woodstock seems to be the anchor for many of these stories. But that sense of place grows more distorted by the fourth song, the country’ish “Wound Up On The Run.” The track recreates the jukebox sound of a dusty pool hall somewhere in Jim’s native Kansas. But the song’s narrator has moved on from his hometown—though not without some regrets: “Take off your clothes and find your wound and lick it, save all your money for an airplane ticket, burn all your bridges til you burn everyone, that’s how I wound up on the run.”



It’s not always clear which of Jim’s songs are explicitly autobiographical. For years, he’s played a song that celebrates a “bearskin rug made out of roadkill.” But we never learn if the bearskin rug is based on a true story. On ‘Made in 2020/Side 1,’ we sometimes wonder if Jim is even a reliable narrator. The album’s closing track, “Goodbye Goodnight” starts off by telling us: “Well I never saw a cat eat a chicken, don’t mean it don’t happen, don’t mean it ain’t true.” But then he explains: “I never saw a man eat a boot, but even if it happened, don’t mean it’s a sin…’cause there’s a man walking down barefoot on Easy Street…they all call him ‘Leather Mouth.’”



Fact or fiction, there’s a certain rich imagination being expressed. How else to explain the upbeat “Living In The Sky”—which starts off with “She got mad at her old man, while she was holding a frying pan.” Another verse recounts: “Hunting in the woods with Sally, he had his fun, end of the day he started to clean his gun.” It quickly becomes apparent that each of the song’s characters has met an unfortunate end—which is why they’re now “living in the sky.” But Jim the narrator merely chimes in at one point with “Good idea…” when summing up a character’s demise. And he clearly delights in characters like “Pa”—“They said happy birthday pa, they got him a new table saw.” Jim simply tells us about the table saw and then chuckles, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”



“Living In The Sky” is fun country fiction. But it echoes a darker humor that runs throughout the album. And that hints at a deeper underlying poignancy. The album’s third song, “Broken Dreams,” recounts a shattered relationship: “And in my bedroom, I still smell her perfume, and I will wash it clean, and crown my broken dreams.” There’s plenty of sadness here—though it’s wrapped in starkly beautiful melodies.



All of this suggests to me that Jim From Kansas is a writer’s writer. He has the great lyrical turns that make other writers think, “Why didn’t I come up with that?”



A funny thing about Jim, though. He writes tons of good songs, and he just keeps writing. Yet there’s no arrogance, no grand self-promotion.



I hope everyone takes some time to sit and listen to Jim From Kansas’ new album, ‘2020/Side 1.’ There’s something very refreshing about soaking up his odd musical stew, brewed up at home, late at night. Clearly, Jim has done it for the love of music—and to follow his strange story-songs, wherever they lead him.



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