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Ghost are moving past their heretical schtick, and this is going to divide the fans. Sure, the deep lore about whether Cardinal Copia counts as a fully-fledged Papa is a big part of the fun – which other band would set up a heretical reliquary at the shows, after all – and certainly a draw for those of us attracted to the arcane and mysterious. But the whole “we’re the Swedish Anti-Christ” thing is only present on a couple of songs on ‘Skeletá’. Their sixth outing is a strong, eighties-influenced power rock record with bold ambitions and a surprisingly sentimental side, and it’s incredibly enjoyable. If you’re hoping for more miscellaneous songs about Satan, this might be a record that lets you down. However, for those attracted to a band spreading their (diamanté bat) wings beyond their niche without compromising on quality, ‘Skeletá’ is going to go down in the history of Ghost as an intriguing step in a new direction.
‘Satanized’, which dropped last month, set a slightly misleading tone. The incredibly catchy tune, which saw everyone “satanising” themselves as part of the video promo, has been everywhere and features the hallmark Gregorian backing, power chords and guilty singalong potential that we love from Ghost, plus, of course, a healthy dose of devil worshipping. It’s the second single, ‘Lachryma’, which was far more interesting though. It’s one of Ghost’s rare “straight” songs – few mentions of the supernatural, and a chorus that needs to be belted out that never grows boring, no matter how many times you listen to it. More importantly, it introduces a new theme of regret and redemption, which carries on into third single ‘Peacefield’. With a gorgeously light intro and lyrics that combine revolutionary history and hollow optimism, it’s got more depth than we’d expect.
“If I could pause right here, I would open my heart,” whispers Tobias Forge (AKA Papa V Perpetua) on ‘Guiding Light’, a tender ode about the road to finding purpose. With shades of Led Zeppelin as background colour, it’s a song to wave your phone light to in the stadium. Of course, there’s slight trepidation whenever Ghost do a song about finding God because there’s a reasonable chance it’s setting up a new narrative where Forge plays a divine figure in new a mask and funny hat. That doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a lovely song that speaks of longing and hope through layers of solos and synths. The theatrical flow makes ‘Skeletá’ an album to listen to in sequence, and the tone of consolation amid regret continues with the faster paced ‘De Profundis Borealis’ and cinematically joyous ‘Cenotaph’.
Of course, writing something in Latin automatically makes it more spooky. ‘Missilia Amori’, or ‘Love Rockets’, is destined to be a new single and fan favourite with it’s sexual ambiguity, beast-like baseline and stomping sense of fun. ‘Excelsis’, the contemplative closer, tells of loss and the afterlife. There’s a touch of menace about being called to the “rainbow’s end” by a shadowy figure, and thankfully that’s been retained in Ghost’s new direction. Similarly, for all it’s disco synths and luxurious solo, the whispers and lingering threat on ‘Marks Of The Evil One’ remind us that Ghost are still capable of being as creepy as the best of them. ‘Umbra’ throws on the cowbell with gleeful abandon, and unites the two sides of the new Ghost with poise an innovation, detailing death and hope with a retro organ solo.
From the bones of the much-played anti-papal act emerges ‘Skeletá’, an album which signals a slightly toned-down Ghost but with no loss of depth. It’s a fun record that surely hints at a new story to emerge in the saga of Papas and Ghouls, none of which will play the saxophone from beyond the grave this time around, and it’ll be one with more heart than we expected.
KATHERINE ALLVEY
‘Satanized’, which dropped last month, set a slightly misleading tone. The incredibly catchy tune, which saw everyone “satanising” themselves as part of the video promo, has been everywhere and features the hallmark Gregorian backing, power chords and guilty singalong potential that we love from Ghost, plus, of course, a healthy dose of devil worshipping. It’s the second single, ‘Lachryma’, which was far more interesting though. It’s one of Ghost’s rare “straight” songs – few mentions of the supernatural, and a chorus that needs to be belted out that never grows boring, no matter how many times you listen to it. More importantly, it introduces a new theme of regret and redemption, which carries on into third single ‘Peacefield’. With a gorgeously light intro and lyrics that combine revolutionary history and hollow optimism, it’s got more depth than we’d expect.
“If I could pause right here, I would open my heart,” whispers Tobias Forge (AKA Papa V Perpetua) on ‘Guiding Light’, a tender ode about the road to finding purpose. With shades of Led Zeppelin as background colour, it’s a song to wave your phone light to in the stadium. Of course, there’s slight trepidation whenever Ghost do a song about finding God because there’s a reasonable chance it’s setting up a new narrative where Forge plays a divine figure in new a mask and funny hat. That doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s a lovely song that speaks of longing and hope through layers of solos and synths. The theatrical flow makes ‘Skeletá’ an album to listen to in sequence, and the tone of consolation amid regret continues with the faster paced ‘De Profundis Borealis’ and cinematically joyous ‘Cenotaph’.
Of course, writing something in Latin automatically makes it more spooky. ‘Missilia Amori’, or ‘Love Rockets’, is destined to be a new single and fan favourite with it’s sexual ambiguity, beast-like baseline and stomping sense of fun. ‘Excelsis’, the contemplative closer, tells of loss and the afterlife. There’s a touch of menace about being called to the “rainbow’s end” by a shadowy figure, and thankfully that’s been retained in Ghost’s new direction. Similarly, for all it’s disco synths and luxurious solo, the whispers and lingering threat on ‘Marks Of The Evil One’ remind us that Ghost are still capable of being as creepy as the best of them. ‘Umbra’ throws on the cowbell with gleeful abandon, and unites the two sides of the new Ghost with poise an innovation, detailing death and hope with a retro organ solo.
From the bones of the much-played anti-papal act emerges ‘Skeletá’, an album which signals a slightly toned-down Ghost but with no loss of depth. It’s a fun record that surely hints at a new story to emerge in the saga of Papas and Ghouls, none of which will play the saxophone from beyond the grave this time around, and it’ll be one with more heart than we expected.
KATHERINE ALLVEY