Our community members are treated to special offers, promotions and adverts from us and our partners. You can check out at any time. More info Flying down the empty A38, I took a backwards glance at the Birmingham city skyline, red light-topped cranes glittering the horizon like a spill of garnets. The city is rocketing up, modern and towering, but it was the past I was driving towards on this particular midnight mission. It was a last minute decision and I was wearing my pyjamas, rushing towards Lichfield and a cute little shop that was opening its doors when the clock struck midnight. Read more: Ghost Utilita Arena Birmingham review: 'All that's left to do is repent' Read more: A new Birmingham indoor market is opening with an unusual twist I'd spotted Stylus Records - a tiny shop that sells vinyl, CDs and cassette tapes at the old St Mary's Infant School in Lichfield - on a list of just 13 UK stores that would be opening at 12am for the launch of a new album. Swedish band Ghost, whose latest album Skeleta features its fair share of 80s synth flourishes, were releasing the sixth installment in their back catalogue on Friday, April 25. In a nod to the exciting album release days of almost half a century ago (yikes), little local record shops were being supplied with limited edition goodies that you could only get if you showed up when the clock struck 12, complete with a rubber stamp ink mark to prove 'I was there'. It was an incredibly exciting idea, alien here in 2025, and FOMO - that's the Fear of Missing Out - had me by the throat. I remember seeing videos as a kid of fans rushing to grab cassettes in the days way before streaming, hoping to get the latest Metallica album in their hands at the earliest possible opportunity. In this digital music era, you can stay in bed and listen to a new album the second it turns 00:00. It's extremely convenient, but that experience of going, waiting, touching, feeling and soaking up the atmosphere proved too much of an attraction to miss. Furthermore, I wanted to show Tim - the guy that runs that little brilliant little record shop in stone's throw of Lichfield Cathedral - that this night was going to be worth him opening his doors for. Especially after seeing Rich Perri's beloved Birmingham stall Ignite, in the Oasis Market, was shut down so unceremoniously. I wasn't the only one showing up to embrace the adventure. I couldn't believe the queue, which snaked down along Minster Pool Walk towards the car park. It was a mix of all kinds of people, from youngsters with painted faces, as is befitting such a theatrical band, to older collectors who were digging the sound. The sound, for reference, is like a melting pot of Blue Oyster Cult, ABBA, Black Sabbath and, recently, a dollop of Journey. It all looks very black metal, with Satanic imagery and blasphemy, but then there's cowbell and synth flair that the churchburners could never pull off. Stylus Records had opened the little skylight on their tiny old shop so we could listen to tracks for the very first time while we waited our turn. I admired the old Georgian postbox while humming along to Lachryma . And then: Doom. Not doom metal, but rather a twist of fate. "I'm sorry, but we've completely sold out," came the call from the front of the line. "Of everything?!" I asked, enquiring about any tiny little bit of Ghost merchandise that might be left. "Of everything," came the reply. I didn't even feel disappointed. How could I? (Image: Kirsty Bosley) The truth is, I wasn't there for the record, not really. The CD would have sat in my cool collection of special bits of Ghost memorabilia that I've gathered in my 10 years or more as a fan, but I'd probably still have it on Spotify in the car. I was there for the thrill of it all, to nosy at other people's Ghost T-shirts and to watch them walking off into the night with papal mitres made of cardboard, records under their arms. I was there for the feeling, the cameraderie and the wonderful company. It's a feeling that, while largely lost to time, is making a return, slowly but surely. I think often about the Taylor Swift effect, and how the fans of that particular artist found a way to extend the joy of any of her gigs by planning outfits, dressing up, making friendship bracelets and swapping them outside venues. Ghost, while not like Taylor Swift at all in theory, were doing the same at the midnight launch, creating hype and gifting special moments and experiences for fans ( you can read my review of the Sunday Ghost gig here, if you like). Are we making a return to a golden age where musicians can actually make proper money again?! A diversion from modern, low-attention-span fleeting moments to a physical, tangible enjoyment you can put a price on? It certainly felt that way to me, even as I left Lichfield empty handed, heading back up along the time machine A38 and back to the future.