Jim Bob: "The Man Behind the Counter of the Science Fiction Superstore"

In the nineties he wore cycling shorts and had his hair cut like a sperm. These days he plays basement gigs, non-electric intimate in the same vein of (dare I say it) Bonnie “Prince” Billy. Surely James Robert Morrison is a national institution by now, for fuck’s sake. I mean, the bloke’s as British as Branston Pickle or an egg in the face of back-bencher, he’s got a wit you could talc down a Second XI changing room with, and he’s been orbiting national radio now for almost twenty years. One does wonder, though, if his webmaster isn’t slightly taking the piss when he lists him as “the British Bob Dylan.” Would Cate Blanchett muss up to portray the man/the music on the big screen? No. Bud Collyer? If he was still alive, almost certainly—he gave us the phrase “This looks like a job for Superman,” and Jim gives us “The Man Behind the Counter of the Science Fiction Superstore” in return: a trail for his new Goffam LP and a fine slice of pop-with-a-conscience. Consider it a prayer for the un-costumed meek, their dreams of getting the green light to go all Hal Jordan finally attracting some lightning.

Issue #1: here we have mild-mannered Mr. Games Workshop starting another day in sunny Townsville, the good folk bustling past his lonely emporium. Suddenly, some surferama harmonising, a flash of guitar, and hot diggity, he’s away, riding his train of thought like train surfer extraordinaire Captain Connex. This is no Golden Age of heroics, however, and like a lot of the solo Jim stuff, the song is about the weight of dreams—specifically, how the pressure of expectation clamps you flat till you waddle about like ASIMO. A piss-take too far, perhaps? Hell no. “I’m a scaled down model of myself just waiting for a sign / Then I will fight crime,” sings Jim with all the ticking wrath of a pre-take post-coffee Christian Bale. We can forgive him the four-chord indulgence straight from the bulk of his back catalogue; we can forgive him because he’s Batman—the 1966 incarnate who sticks in The Dark Knight‘s side. Every now and then Bruce Wayne should pull his mask down and remember.