I used to work at the music information desk at Borders Books and Music. It wasn’t particularly glamorous, and mostly consisted of showing people where the “Now That’s What I Call Music” and American Idol winner CDs were. Despite the day-to-day banality, it was still probably my favorite job that I’ve ever had.
I spent the days working with music. Even if it was just alphabetizing sections, there was always something to learn and new to find in the stacks. We had control of the CD player, and while our selections were limited to promo cd’s that came in, we got a LOT of promo CDs. I still have a stack of CDs that I was able to take when they remodeled the store and got rid of the information desk.
It was during this period that I got into the Jam. They were a band I’d heard of but knew nothing about prior to then. Growing up, they had absolutely no presence on the radio in the US. I knew they were big in England from reading British music magazines, but they were a total mystery to me until I picked up “The Sound of the Jam.”
I usually have some reservations about starting my journey with a band’s greatest hits, but there wasn’t much choice. Borders didn’t carry anything else at the time. I have since gone back and picked up their six albums, but that compilation was enough for a while.
It took about 30 seconds to fall completely in love with the band. The opening burst of guitar and attitude on the first track, “In the City,” was enough for me. I was all in. I listened to that album over and over for what felt like weeks. Their punk-adjacent sound, tinged with Northern Soul, pub rock, and Weller’s refusal to shed his accent, clicked somewhere deep inside me.
There’s more to say about the band, but as I write this on my 51st birthday, I keep thinking about one of the last songs on that compilation and one of the highlights of their final album, “The Gift.” Most of the punkiness and attitude were gone when they recorded “Ghosts.” Weller had fully embraced the direction that would lead him to his second band, “The Style Council,” and his later solo career. It sounds a million miles away from the righteous anger of “In the City,” but it’s no less powerful.
“Ghosts” is a short song, clocking in at only two-minutes and ten-seconds. It opens with Weller plucking out notes over Rick Buckler tapping out a simple rhythm. Some handclaps and Bruce Foxton’s bass join in the fun, and Weller begins to sing
“Why are you frightened? Can’t you see that it’s you?”
The pace never really quickens, and most of the momentum in the song comes from Weller’s vocals and the brass section, Steve Nichol and Keith Thomas. The horns really jump out as something different for the band, but it works incredibly well. What you end up with is an almost gentle song that chugs along through four verses with no chorus. It’s a bit reminiscent of “Up The Junction” by Squeeze in its structure, although the lyrics and meaning are basically the polar opposite. Whereas “Up the Junction” is the confessions of a man whose choices have led him astray, “Ghosts” is Weller singing about someone who is hiding from themselves.
The song tells the story of someone who is trying to conform to societal expectations and muting themselves in the process. It’s about someone who has so much more to give but is afraid to bust out and be themselves.
It’s a song I think about a lot. Everyone has different faces they show to different people. The person you are at work is not necessarily the person you are at home. Your friends might see a different you than your spouse, and so forth. There can be a lot of tension playing so many different roles, and it’s easy to lose yourself, or really know which is “the real” you. I struggle with this as much as anyone. The song speaks to that dilemma and encourages breaking out of it.
If there is any one thing I believe with all my heart, it’s that people are meant for better than 9 to 5 jobs and constantly being beaten down by the world. Believing it and doing anything about it are different things, but sometimes I think just recognizing that there’s more is enough.
This is why I write. It’s why I own a guitar. It’s why I always celebrate my birthday with friends when I can. Life is about those things. Love, friendship, having fun, and making art. All the stuff that can seem frivolous compared to the burden of our jobs and responsibilities, but in the end, those are the things all the other stuff is for.
These are the things I think of when I listen to “Ghosts” and the things I think about every year when another year passes, and I try to take stock of what I’ve accomplished, where I’ve been, who I’ve met, and how happy it all made me.
The last year was an extraordinary one for me creatively. Between books I wrote, books I edited, short stories, and even music, I was able to put more art out into the world than I have ever done before. I stood on the shore of Lake Superior listening to “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” I got to stand in a village at the base of Mount Fuji in Japan with my wife on a clear day and see one of the most beautiful mountains in the world. I got to break bread with authors from all over. I won an award for my photography. I got to laugh with one of my heroes on a podcast and read words he wrote for a book I published. I got to sing along to ‘Don’t Look Back in Anger’ with a small city’s worth of people at an Oasis concert. I played dozens of board games. Read hundreds of great comics. And most important got to spend time with my family and friends.
There’s a line in “Ghosts” that happens to be my favorite in the Jam’s entire catalog. It serves as a bit of a mantra for me. It’s the reason I listen to the song when I need a pick-me-up and a reminder to not slow down.
“Keep on moving, moving, moving, your feet.”
That’s the plan.
SHOUTING STREET 
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