Imagine Neil Young doing early 90's Sebadoh, Silver Jews and Pavement covers while attending Bob Pollards "beer drinking while writing space truths" master class after a Jandek listening party and you get an idea of the haze and daze of this gentleman's craft.
A guitar basher of percussive strumming on heartstring pulled pop chords with punchy divisive solos and a lyrical realist spewing beaten down and upside up beat poems for the overworked yet under employed class and grass smokers.
Alcohol, marijuana, jail, heartbreak, reinvention and city survival fuel the LO/NO FI, stay in your garage rock, not in your bedroom, folk damaged Avante noise jams of Murder Jim, whose personal catalog of Quimby songs is rumored to be in the tens of thousands.
It's compelling us to raise full glasses with our own half drunk ghosts in the shared realization that the end of the world really is a great time to be alive.