Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Mike Gentry
Push always comes to shove and then there's a rejection of everything that led to the pushing, much less the shoving. There's a shrugging off of all the lumps that were gathered getting to that point. They don't melt away, but they're free to go. They can be spread out in the field, like a load of manure, to make some good of themselves, if that's even possible.
The songs that Jake Simmons writes for his band - Jake Simmons & The Little Ghosts - are the kinds that come from sentiments formed during the middle of a blaze that's beginning to be collared. It's at least understood and there's an understanding that the flames licking up against these people aren't as pleasurable as they once were. There's a consideration that something is going to give. There will be a break and a parting and the losses will be great, but they couldn't really be any other way. It's what was signed up for.
The folks in the Kalamazoo, Michigan, group's songs are done making concessions. They're finished considering - or someone else made their mind up for them. A change is coming very soon, when a man sings, "It stings just to kiss her." That right there isn't the kind of kiss that spends. It's the kind of kiss that brings with it a cringe and a recoiling. Simmons sings elsewhere on this hard-charging collection, "I can't afford the pain, come the change in the weather," and the unsettled gray skies are proof of it. There's ash in the air and there are more burn piles to get to. There are piles of clothes that will go in the fireplace. There are photos that will be lit at the corner. Heads are something else though. They're tough to fumigate, but the Little Ghosts will try to get them clean.