11I started out in search of ordinary things…
There’s often such a feeling of resignation in the vocals of Bill Callahan. It’s almost as if he always knew that things would turn out the way they did, that he somehow had already accepted all the miseries that would be sent his way before they ever arrived. He frequently removes himself from situations, just slightly, in order to comment on them in a weary, Cohen-esque fashion. Somehow, though, the distancing used and the resignation employed only manage to increase the sadness in so many of his songs; he himself might use them as a shield of sorts, but to those of us listening, they seem to reveal far more than they hide.
“Jim Cain” is a perfect example of Callahan’s imperfect mask. In addition to being one of the finest songs he’s ever written, it’s also one of the saddest, even as his voice attempts to float over the wreckage and merely survey the scene. His lyrics alternate between narration, self-recrimination, and a search for some kind of simple grace. His sharpest arrows are often aimed square at himself, and he’s always aware of what he’s doing long before you are.
