Ghost Live

The culmination of my 8-month obsession with the Swedish pop-metal band, Ghost. 

I purchased tickets to this Chicago date months ago for myself and another friend who took the plunge into the band at the same time. We both entered this fascination with a certain awareness of how utterly ridiculous this band appears on the surface. With a frontman who dresses like a bizarro-world Pope and a line-up consisting of five "nameless ghouls" who wear generic Darth Vader costumes, it's clear from this visual eye candy that the band is attempting to initiate interest in the band before a note is even played.

Usually, such attempts are received by younger music fans quickly, which is why-as someone in their mid-40's and another man in their early 30's-may have approached Ghost as a guilty pleasure at first. We were keenly aware from the start that this was a band that probably wasn't designed for our age group. 

Yet my ticket purchase was immediate. The prospect of seeing Ghost in a theatre, bellowing their Satanic message on Easter eve became almost an impulse decision when tickets for the show were first announced. To be honest, I wasn't aware that the date coincided with the Holy weekend, but it later became a perfect alibi for me to excuse myself from any Easter family activities taking place at my in-laws when the date drew near.

Of course, the Easter date sounds more sinister than it actually was. As I've mentioned before, Ghost's image is intentionally provocative and their Satanic message is nothing more than a bunch of grown men cobbling together Anglican phrases that appear evil on the surface. A closer examination only reveals how English is the band's second language and how lifting bits of the Book of Common Prayer can provide a career full of source material and controversy, provided that there are still a few folks who manage to stroll in for Sunday service.

Is all of this lost on Ghost's fans? Hard to say, as the line to the sold-out show circled around the block of the Vic Theatre featured a wide array of audience members. There were the obvious heavy metal fans in jeans and black concert tees alongside Goths who lined up behind middle-aged men who seemed to be channeling bits of (I'm guessing) their previous devotion to KISS towards their new Swedish masters.

Besides, everyone knows that KISS stands for "Kings In Satan's Service" anyway.

We took up behind a couple at the end of the line who were quietly waiting for the doors to open. The man, a balding gentleman wearing a ratty trench coat and looking like Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. His companion sported long, green hair and leggings tucked into a pair of Doc Marten boots. She had taken the time to paint the logo and an image of the band's debut album on her footwear. He smoked cigarettes and didn't say a word to her the entire time we waited for the doors to open.

The line moved quickly as the doors opened and we made our way to the balconies as soon as we entered. One of the perks of being older is knowing that the general admission floor would quickly fill with younger folks who are capable of standing for extended periods of time and who don't mind jockeying for position the entire duration of the sets of both the opening band and headliners.

Speaking of, King Dude-a trio of Seattle folk-rock naysayers with similar religious criticisms-opened for Ghost, in an attempt for thematic consistency, but delivering nothing short of a complete train-wreck of styles. I looked over at my friend and noticed that he was in the middle of a short nap, which  is pretty close to my own opinion of King Dude's performance.

To pass the time during their set, we struck up a conversation with an attractive and inked woman who had noticed my friend's nap time and also felt it was amusingly appropriate. She was at the show with her partner, who happened to be one of the head honchos at Kuma's Corner-a Chicago eatery known for their upscale burgers named after heavy metal bands.

A few months ago, the restaurant introduced the "Ghost Burger" in honor of the band: a white cheddar cheeseburger with ghost pepper aioli, moistened with some red wine  reduction (the "blood" of Christ, if you're seeing where this is going) and topped with a communion wafer. I remember reading about this last fall and immediately thinking "That sounds remarkably tasty!" without even considering how others would react to having a stale, tasteless cracker sitting on top of this carnivorous gem.

But apparently, a lot of Catholics didn't appreciate having "the body of Christ"crown a patty of beef named after such a notorious band who regularly sings a song with a chorus that reads, "Hear our Satan prayer/The anti-Nicene Creed." Protests were swift and decisive, and after a week or so of trying to patch things up, Kuma's Corner pulled the burger from the menu and the matter was forgotten.

Our concert neighbors told us that the band had actually visited the location earlier that day, taking pictures with children and their parents who presumably know about the band's history, and that Ghost's frontman usually ditches his normal hat, robe and skull make-up when roaming around with the band off stage. For these moments, he dons what appears to be an old man mask, nicely touched up with make-up and wearing a tailored suit. He speaks with a phony baloney Italian accent, perhaps in an attempt to convey an aura of legitimacy to the role he is playing.

The band wasn't talking today, hitting a local record store for photo opportunities but no discussion. The restaurateurs told us that they brought back the "Ghost Burger" especially for the event, and that several fans-including a few families-dropped by on their way to the show. Sure enough, we noticed a few parents who had brought their kids to the show, a questionable decision if you asked me.

It's not necessarily the fact that Ghost are purported Satanists, it's more of an issue that the children I noticed were young enough to have no real understanding of the complex history of religion, let alone a discussion of the nuances of good and evil.

While most of us in attendance were in on the joke and aware of the humor that goes into building the characters that serve as the members of Ghost, there were a few who took this shit way too seriously, chief among them King Dude.

After his set, a few audience members blurted out a few "Hail Satan(s)!" or "Satan rules!" while the road crew dutifully put together the stage set. For the most part, our section was made up of a large portion of the older crowd and, as expected, the floor area was filled with the younger contingency, including one dedicated young lady who came dressed as a nun in white face.

There were the obligatory church windows in back of the stage, but other than this minimal religious imagery, the rest of the band's visual arsenal relied on smoke and lighting. There were no amplifiers present and stage risers held the keyboardists on stage right ("Nameless Ghoul"- Keyboards) and a very basic drum kit on stage left ("Nameless Ghoul" - drums) which featured on bass drum and floor toms only.

The load-in music consisted of various religious chanting, which may or may not have prompted those aforementioned outbursts. Prior to the dramatic shift in music, classic rock and metal favorites had been playing over the p.a., including a spin of Journey's "Don't Stop Believing," which had a large portion of the crowd singing very un-ironically with it.

The lights went out and five nameless ghouls made their way on stage to the pre-recorded choir of the opening moments of their second album, Infestissumam.

There are moments of this record in which I adore, but there are many more that I'm still not fond of. Thankfully, a big chunk of Ghost's recent set list continues to pull from their debut, the far-superior Opus Eponymous as well as the title track of the band's last e.p. and an eerie cover of The Beatles' "Here Comes The Sun" which features a baby crying during the recorded introduction.

While there were many moments of taped portions (the acoustic ending of "Genesis" were lifted directly from the album version) it wasn't as intrusive as the fact that not being able to see the faces of the nameless ghouls seriously inhibits the ability to really get into the band's heavier moments. With no facial expressions, the guitar shredding becomes uneventful; the showmanship lost.

Which means it's up to Papa Emeritus (II) to carry the weight of the crowds attention. And that's easier said than done, particularly when your frontman is restricted by a Pope's hat and a religious robe. He would slowly pace the stage, using his hands to either dramatically gesture to the crowd or "conduct" the nameless ghost guitarists who were soloing.

The crowd would get quiet whenever Papa spoke in between songs, which was only a few times and nearly impossible to understand ("What'd he say?" was a common question from my friend next to me). During some of the musical interludes, Papa would exit the stage, leaving the rest of the band to execute a very precise and unwavering performance. The mix was balanced and the sound was surprisingly comfortable without hearing protection in the front of the Vic's balcony.

There is very little deviation between the set on one night verses another, suggesting that the show may be extremely choreographed and well paced. But the reality is that Ghost display a very minimal stag show at this point in their career-which may or may not be akin to the package that KISS used to roll into town with such proficiency early in their career, just before the floodgates open.

Whether or not such success is building behind Ghost is anyone's guess at this point, as the verdict is out on how successful an outfit with a Satanic pop metal band  from Sweden will be in puritanical America-particularly one with a surprisingly blues-free foundation. We tend to like our anti-religious venom to be housed in long hair aggression with ample amounts of testosterone and guitar mutilation.

There's none of that going on here-and to top it off, Papa Emeritus' voice (when he isn't talking in character) is filled with more fey notes than any real deep balls worship or tortured soul wailing. It's a pop construct at this point, where Ghost's most heaviest of moments have a very prevalent undercurrent of camp and twisted enjoyment of yanking on people's rosaries.

Leading all of this was Emeritus, who was either way too into his character to adequately deliver his lines or was genuinely flabbergasted at the devotion demonstrated by a bunch of very admiring fans who showered their affection whenever the band silenced in between songs.

Admittedly, he is quite a sight. You literally can't take your eyes off of him during the show-even if some of that reason is because the rest of the line up is purposely lacking any human acknowledgement. Regardless if Emeritus was doing very little in terms of adding to the material from its original performances or from a crowd interaction perspective, he was at least giving off the appearance of some kind of evil deity throughout the evening. Arms would extend up to the stage the moment he leaned forward, eyes would seek out his with intense admiration when he gazed into the people and gifts of roses were presented  to him at the end of the set when the air of finality began to creep into the set.

"Hail Satan! Welcome Year Zero!"

I suppose in a way, these were the ones who really needed presiding over-the disenfranchised who would knowingly take up with a clever pop metal band with dark overtones and an amplified image that's to die for. The pun in that statement is intended  for the rest of us-the ones who "get" the  fact that all of this is a carefully constructed agent provocateur. The audience members that didn't understand that were already in need of some spirituality to begin with, and given the alternate options of Satanic metal offerings, we should probably be thankful for the fact that they've aligned themselves with such philosophical lightweights like Ghost.

One thing the band does remarkably well is to translate this image into a marketing juggernaut. The merchandise table features a wide plethora of t-shirts (most of them working off of a movie poster, like Scarface or Jaws) and moving up to such high-end items like vibrators with Papa Emeritus' likeness on the end ($100). As awesome as the merchandise was, the novelty of them is probably best left to the younger bums as even my thirtysomething friend made the comment later on after purchasing  a t-shirt, "When am I ever going to be able to wear this?"

In this regard, Ghost are operating on the same level as any other religious institution: using the pulpit to motivate parishioners to pull out their wallets and feed the offering plate. The difference is that Ghost is a helluva more captivating than most religious services and I'd much rather be in the clergy of "Ghuleh/Zombie Queen" (the stunning first number of the encore) than the lame rendition of "My Redeemer Lives" that seems to find its way into contemporary Christian services across America.

And based on the articles I've read about the band's namesake hamburger, a lot more tasty than the communion wafer they service at my own church.

Setlist:

Infestissumam
Per Aspera ad Inferi
Ritual
Prime Mover
Jigolo Har Megiddo
Con Clavi Con Dio
Elizabeth
Body and Blood
Death Knell
Here Comes the Sun (Beatles cover)
Depth of Satan's Eyes
Stand by Him
Genesis
Year Zero
If You Have Ghosts (Roky Erickson cover)

Encore:

Ghuleh/Zombie Queen
Monstrance Clock

Ghost - Opus Eponymous

I discovered Ghost with the second album, Infestissumam, a regrettable decision that was made in haste and nearly derailed any additional interest in the band. Take it from me, don't make the same mistake: begin your exploration of this Swedish sextet with their debut, Opus Eponymous.

If it weren't for the band's wonderful religious imagery and their incessant praising of Satan, chances are good that I would have probably ignored Ghost completely from that moment on.

Call it the devil's work or blame it on some subconscious backwards masking, but there was something compelling to me about a band working with an image that is most associated with aggression, volume and lots of testosterone while using an abundance of pop and melody in their quest to acquire your soul for the underworld.

The dichotomy was addictive, and the more I immersed myself in discovering Ghost, the more I began to appreciate their unique mission statement.

You have to understand that I grew up during a time where any association with the devil was viewed negatively. Sure, it may have been a little titillating to have a hint of Satanic imagery to gain interest in your music, but if you had any desire of financial success or commercial intent, you had to suppress the pentagrams and play nice. And part of "playing nice" meant making sure your product was acceptable to the record buyers of Sam Walton's joint and the God-fearing local business owners who made Motley Crue turn in their barely visible pentagram for the cover of Shout At The Devil into a boring quartet of photos of the band in garish make up.

Things were so bad that even televangelist Jim Bakker's network in the early 80's gave an hour a week to a show devoted entirely to "outing" bands with Satanic references and other suggestive evil matters. When the devil material got light, they would often spend an inordinate amount of time looking for backward masking on records and other issues of concern like sex, drugs, and doing drugs that may lead to sex. If it wasn't for this show, I would have never known the message "It's fun to smoke marijuana" could be heard if you played Queen's "Another One Bites The Dust" backwards.

My point is this: had the band Ghost tried any of this Satanic jive back in the day, they would have been crucified (ha!) by religious leaders and other do-gooders who didn't see the band's over-the-top theatrics as anything but a complete threat to our nation's youth.

I mean, you've seen Paradise Lost, right?

By 2010, the world was ready for a confirmed group of devil worshippers, at least not the kind that burn historic churches and eat the brain splatter of a fellow band member's successful shotgun suicide. No, Ghost are the palatable devil worshippers, the kind where their look oozes irony and their lyrics read like make believe Latin and lazy memories of the Anglican Book of Common Prayers.  Fronted by Papa Emeritus, a Pope-like religious figure in skull make-up and supported by 5 masked and anonymous musicians known as "nameless ghouls," Ghost slightly suggest some elements of evil on a visual scale, but the shear audacity of their bold religious image is hard to accept as anything more than an ironic statement of our world's curious history with Christianity and evil.

This is all confirmed within moments of Opus Eponymous, the band's debut album. They're from Sweden, which also contributes to their lack of possessing any real threat against humanity, particularly since some of the band's initial seed money came from art grants divvied out by the Swedish government .

But the real nicety is found not within the band's peripheral image or religious doctrine, it's in the music itself. While undeniably a hard rock record, Opus Eponymous noticeably light on the aggressiveness. The keyboards are mixed as high as the guitars, leaving Papa Emeritus with plenty of room to sing without the aid of any cliched metal effects whatsoever.

Opus Eponymous reveals hints of Blue Oyster Cult's more accessible moments as well as hints of late 80's prog metal favorites Voivod, if they'd pointed their songs towards the bowels of hell instead of outer space.

"Lucifer, we are here/For your praise, evil one" sings Emeritus, showing neither much conviction in the topic itself, or much concern for intimidating the listener. His ambivalence towards metal's notorious history of nutswinging machismo is unsettling at first, but positively refreshing after repeated listens. And thanks to the record's good melodic sense and abundant parade of hooks, it is quite possible that Opus will amass more listens than you probably should admit to.

The guitars are impeccably appropriate, closely following warm, retro tones and vintage appointments. Besides tactful organs which are used abundantly throughout Opus, Ghost have enough smarts to let the bassist-again, listed as another "Nameless Ghoul"- tackle the low end without letting it be ruined by endless drop-D tuning strategies. Everything is wonderfully recorded in what sounds like a very analog environment. The performances are clever and tactfully restrained, representing a very respectful tribute to the era of music that it is obviously indebted to.

The impeccable musicianship makes it so much easier to sing and quietly giggle along with Emeritus' constant praises of Satan ("The Devil's power is the greatest one"), usually bordering on Cliffs Notes edition of religious phrases ("Hear our Satan prayer/The anti-Nicene Creed") with the occasional songs about Elizabeth Bathory, a royal Hungarian 17th century serial killer ("Her acts of cruelty/Her lust for blood/Makes her one of us").

Opus Eponymous is perfectly suited for vinyl, with its tidy running time and its cheesy Gothic cover art. As with any bit of seventies worship, Opus comes complete with the album's lyrics found inside its gatefold sleeve, written in some impossible read font that's as fun as shit to follow along to while you're giving it a spin. You'll be able to confirm the lyrics online if needed, and certain sites even provide song meanings as supplied by fans and devoted listeners of the record. The site that I visited listed "It's about Satan" as the explanation of every song on Opus Eponymous, and that explanation is entirely correct.

Not that it matters. You'll be able to recite every single ridiculous chorus, particularly since they're so infectious and enormously fun to sing along with. It was suggested that I failed to notice that important element -"fun" - in my review of Ghost's second album, and I suppose that criticism is somewhat fair. But it works better here on the band's debut, because the record's focus is so tightly centered on one topic (Satan) and the band's blueprint is based entirely on spreading the message of evil in the guise of a very entertaining thirty-five minute long package.

The pop elements, the strong performances, and the band's theatrics all combine perfectly to create a refreshing and unique approach that works surprisingly well in today's ADHD culture. For me, I think that the appeal was discovering a band that focused on something beyond the walls of reality, right out of the gate to the point where I relished the idea that Ghost isn't content with modest intentions. Ghost seems to be arena-ready from the start, a goal that is practically unheard of since hair metal got buried with Nevermind's ascension over two decades ago.

Maybe it's taken that long to be ready for such blatant attempt at lofty desires. Or maybe it's taken such the dramatic appearance of a make-believe Pope and his Darth Vader masked minions to make this kind of yearning to be acceptable again.

One thing is for sure:  if you sit down and put on the second side of Opus, you'll find that it's damn near perfect- that is, if that corn cob of pretentiousness that's lodged in your ass isn't too out of reach. It's a great blend of hard rock's mid-70's worship with a very legitimate attempt to recreate some similar magic for today's rock and roll virgins. Because - I don't know if you've noticed - hard rock isn't what it used to be, and its lack of eye-catching excitement probably has something to do with it no longer being the bond of our youth. And while I'm certainly not suggesting the death of hard rock/heavy metal's is here or even imminent, I do notice a decline in its influence among our youth.

To correct this, I see nothing wrong with eliciting the help of Satan himself to make sure the impressionable ears of our youth at least give hard rock a chance. Perhaps that's achieved with a band working something that's bigger in scope that what their garage or basement can provide or what their laptop can help create.

Perhaps that's achieved through the efforts of a Pope, his evil minions, and a few songs about the devil.

And that's fine by me too, because everyone knows that Hell's got all the good bands anyway.

Ghost - Infesissumam

I’ve given up trying to remain completely up-to-speed on every new rock release, particularly when it comes to titles that have a more mainstream appeal. At the same time, I occasionally come across a band or record that has an amount of popularity large enough to be ashamed that I was completely in the dark about prior to my own exposure.

I “discovered” Ghost just last month at a friend’s house, shortly after he had been exposed to them for the first time. I should probably admit that no one involved in this discovery is under the age of thirty, which is part of the problem. It doesn’t appear that Ghost is the type of band that would even appeal to someone over the age of 30, but more on that a little later.

My first exposure was a video, and based on the quality of it, I wasn’t entirely sure if the entire thing was a gag or if the members of Ghost really did take themselves seriously. There were dudes dressed in robes, their faces completely covered in black masks, and there seemed to be lit candles on the walls. I say "seemed" to be because the video quality looked suspect, like it may have been a college project for someone's Video Production 101 student. I say this with my own experience, having taken Video Production 101 in college and having received a solid B- for my efforts.

 The "video music production" project was a killer; do you know how hard it is matching up pre-recorded audio with people lip-synching the lyrics? So my initial reaction-the costumes, the set, the religious themes, the cheesiness of the video quality-was one of total humor. Of course, it didn’t help that my friend provided a running commentary of the video as it was playing, mostly from the perspective of an outfit that had no clue what they were doing.

 After a long musical introduction, there was a shot of a different perspective. Someone was walking towards the band. There was a lot of fake smoke for him to navigate through.

"Here comes the main dude. He's like the Pope or somethin'" offered my friend.

And sure as shit, a man wearing a more ornate robe than the other members slowly made his way to the place where the other members were performing. He had what appeared to be a Catholic Cardinal's hat on his head and his face was painted in white, eerily resembling a skull.

His name, we discovered after a quick call to Wikipedia on my smart phone, was "Papa Emeritus," or "Papa Emeritus II" after reading about some ridiculous transition of the two characters. I got bored with the story, so I stopped reading and returned to the lol's.

What ended my laughter was the fact that the band’s set for this video shoot contained props that required someone to blueprint and fucking build them.

We’re not talking about a bunch of teenagers slopping together a set for a summer musical production of Pippin, but one in which materials were considered beforehand, purchased and carefully pieced together in an effort that aligned with the band’s curious religious motif, which also must have entailed some serious planning to begin with. After everything was all planned, then someone went down to Just Ask Rentals and put a deposit on a smoke machine.

 We moved to live video footage, and it is at this point where I start to get very curious about this band. There were people actually digging this shit, and while I haven't even begun to discuss what these guys sound like yet, lets just say that it was in no way as aggressive as you would think grown men in robes and religious attire should sound like. I mean, if Kiss can pull out a song as heavy as "Ladies Room," then Ghost should be fucking Slayer in terms of loudness. But no, Ghost is perfectly content with sounding like a summer musical production of Pippin, with a guy doing hammer-ons on his guitar in the background.

 While the live performance was by no means an arena show, it was one from what appeared to be a rather large theatre. And that rather large theatre appeared filled with fans who seemed to know Every. Single. Word.

“These guys aren’t American.” I suggested, not attempting to question the band’s love of freedom.

“Fuck no,” replied my friend. “This has got to be European.” Understanding what I was attempting to relate.

And sure as shit, another cursory search confirmed that Ghost is another fucking band from Sweden, forced to add a “B.C.” to the end of their name because some dumbass American band already used it for their own, while not having the good sense to package their look in anonymous Darth Vader masks while dressing their frontman up to look like a Satanic Cardinal.

The religious imagery is another dead giveaway to the country of origin, because nobody in America gives a shit about religion anymore, and those that do typically hang around the hypocrisy elements. Ghost seem to enjoy the contradictory elements of their Satanic approach rather than focus too much on the church’s history of abuse, control and war.

You know, the same things that most religions attempt to rally against.

Ghost’s approach to this topic is done in such a half-assed manner that you have to believe that any discussion of it gets them tripped up in trying to explain it all. Indeed, most interviews that I’ve seen where the topic is brought up, a member-usually an anonymous minion, since the lead singer is apparently doing double duty as a vocalist by the name of Tobias Forge, a thirty-two year old man who puts fake blood on his face, plays guitar and sings for another metal band called Repugnant. He likes to be called "Mary Goore" when playing in that band. But in Ghost, he's "Papa Emeritus" and he doesn't play a guitar-at least that I know of, I've wasted too many hours in front of a computer screen trying to piece all of this nonsense together.

He just walks around slowly and makes these exaggerated motions that vaguely resemble what a man of the cloth would do. So when the band, mostly the "Nameless Ghouls" that make up Ghost's musical performers, gets cornered into talking about what all of this religious imagery means, they play coy and dish out some printable bullshit about "Satanism" in an almost embarrassing attempt to come off as more heavy than their sound illustrates.

It's working: The dude that turned my friend on to Ghost used the fact that they were “Satanists” as a primary reason to check them out. He's 32 years old and clearly out of this band's targeted age demographic. Then again, so are my friend and I.

So let's cut to the chase: as Satan as my witness, Ghost may be the most improperly marketed band since Kiss roamed the Earth in their costumes, and by that I mean their look completely snookers the fact that they are as sweet as Cool Whip in the mix and about as nutritious.

Ghost's sophomore effort, Infestissumam is the band's major label debut, whatever that means, because they seem to be doing just fine in terms of self-promotion. The rub is how when Ghost plays footsie with things like the anti-Christ, then their marketing power in the States loses traction.

Because as much as we dislike going to church here in the U.S., we sure as shit won't replace it with a bizarro one who's biggest promoter resembles the white-faced demon dude that inhabits Linda Blair in The Exorcist.

And based on the band's pop leanings, one can only assume that worldwide domination is at play here. After all, what possesses a thirty-two year old man to dress like this?

God bless the children of the beast.

There were reports (I wasn’t kidding about my research) that the band wanted Infesissumam to sound like a big budget rock album circa 1978, but the reality is that most rock records from 1978 sound much heavier than this. That fact includes Kiss’ Destroyer album, a record that Ghost would seem greatly indebted to on the surface while musically, the pairing is notably much different. This isn’t to suggest that Gene, Paul, Ace and Peter are better musicians than the Nameless Ghouls that play in Ghost (they aren’t) but they certainly have their roots directly in the same soil as rock and roll’s expansive family tree.

Ghost, on the other hand, pull from the same amount of European classical elements as they would from Detroit rock city, leaving Infestissumam a confusing blend of metal, pop, and Johan Helmich Roman influences.

The guitars are mixed low, as are the drums and any other hint of real metallic aggression. Keyboards and frequent religious chants (some in Latin, or at least a reasonable facsimile) are the formula here, along with endless meanderings about religious topics seemingly derived from Cliff’s Notes pocket bibles and Catholic worship inserts. Side two begins with chants of "Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer ... Hail Satan, Archangelo," which probably mean as much to Ghost as their made-up word "Idolatrine."

My guess is that they were attempting to be clever with that one, combining the word "Idolatry" (which Infestissumam qualifies as) and the word "latrine" (ditto) in an attempt to suggest, I dunno, Piss Christ, maybe? There’s nothing offensive about such lines like “Idolatrine for the imbeciles” unless you’re smart enough to figure out that you are exactly the kind of imbecile they were referring to.

I’d actually have a modicum of respect for Ghost if their intention was a bit malicious, but based on other examples throughout the record, it appears they’re just pulling things out of their ass and, when that is too much of a challenge, making shit up. Literally. For “Depth Of Satan’s Eyes,” the lyricist cobbles together such nonsense like “The swamp of feces that is the word/Flatuates a whirlwind storm in which you swirl," while not even managing to enunciate the word "feces" properly.

I'll betcha it sounds even dumber in their native language, and I'll betcha that Ghost begins backing off the Satanic jive when they realize just how much money they're leaving on the table because of the baggage that comes with it.

Until that time, Ghost remains nothing more than a visual curio-a band that I would actually pay to see if they came through my hometown because, let's face it, this concept only works in relation to the detail that went into this production from day one.

Musically, Ghost suffer from that lack of excitement on record. It becomes lost in its garbled message and mainstream gloss, coming off like the entitled sons of Uriah Heep who listen to as much EDM as they did Demons and Wizards.

The irony is that most of Infestissumam's best tracks are the ones that shy away from the band's supposed heavy lineage. "Ghuleh/Zombie Queen" starts out as a nice progressive piece before unexpectedly transforming into a nifty surf-rock bit.

"Monstrance Clock," the record's closer, also hangs around the softer side of Satan while, more importantly, finally finding a winning chorus after practically avoiding any sense of melody for the first forty minutes of the record.

Tellingly, the discussion of Ghost seems to have gone beyond the credibility of their musical legacy to one that acknowledges its limitations before going straight to the band's worth in bringing in, ahem, new converts to metal.

To be honest, I'm not sure that I see how relevant that discussion even is, given the sheer lack of metal that Ghost seems to be portraying on Infestissumam. Is as if these people are looking for a reason to justify what ultimately is a guilty pleasure. There is nothing more compelling to Ghost than what you see visually, and if you're like me-(well) over thirty and obsessing about a band that put together an image before a note was even created, then you should be old enough to admit that your fascination is beyond anything they've put to wax.

Liking Ghost is not only being able to laugh at the sheer ridiculous of their gimmick, but also acknowledging that their shtick only works as live theater. Because the sound of their recorded service only demonstrates the gaping holes in their endlessly promoted book of worship.