At the time of writing, Ghost are embarking on their newest world tour, the one best known for its ‘phoneless’ policy. Yeah, apparently you store your phone in a lockbox before the show, and can only use it again in designated areas of the venue. There’s probably been some horrendous discourse to sift through around that (which, like most of the sort, should be ignored for your own sanity’s sake), but you can sort of see the logic from the band’s point of view. Now especially, Ghost are all about the spectacle and the event, and keeping that in containment does more to preserve the surprise for further dates down the line. After all, Tobias Forge’s newest creepy clergyman Papa V Perpetua has only just debuted, and as literally the only public-facing contributor in this outfit with an identity, there are elements that are bound to be wanted to remain unspoiled.
And maybe there’d be more to consider there if it weren’t being pushed on Skeletá, possibly the least eventful Ghost album in years. This is a real disappointment to field, especially after the earlier years that saw Ghost beset with many of the same issues. They had the look and the idea, but there was something about their classic-metal shtick back then that was more dated and hokey than they could justify. Moving on to Prequelle and especially Impera, in which a heavy emphasis on pop proved mission critical in getting this to work, Ghost finally felt like they were onto something. Now, though…the attempt just feels off. Not even in a way that has them falling back on old, bad habits, either; it simply isn’t the expected result from Ghost anymore.
At least there’s a silver lining that keeps Skeletá from slipping any further, that being the way in which a good chorus plied with vocal harmonies can at least make a Ghost song catchy. That comes across most on songs like Lachryma and Marks Of The Evil One, both managing to enjoy a bit of classic-rock decadence alongside this album’s newfound ‘80s interest. Well, ‘interest’ in the sense that some glossy, buzzy synth tones are draped around here and there. The closest it gets to feeling like a new dimension is on Umbra, and even then, ‘Danger Zone-lite’ is a stretch to deem fully ‘new’.
But, y’know, there’s still some infectiousness in there. Some. Not as much as Ghost usually have—not by a long shot—but some.
That’s ultimately where Skeletá’s problems lie—despite Ghost’s continued efforts to remain fresh and domineering within the arena-rock space, they just…don’t. So few of the songs on Skeletá pop or indulge in the usual eccentricities, and ultimately, that undoes so much of what works about Ghost. Often, Ghost’s production hasn’t always been stellar (mostly thanks to so deliberately anchoring themselves in a ‘70s-inspired headspace), but there was the promise of physical size as a much-needed backup. Skeletá has no such fallback, and especially in the guitars, feels notably smaller and stiffer as a result. Satanized could be your standard Ghost ripper if it weren’t so jammed into an unflattering mid-range. Cenotaph takes a different approach to its mediocrity in a swinging tempo that places a blazing spotlight on how de-powered it is, only intensifying when the squidgy, fizzy keys come in to add a cheapness onto the pile.
The frustrating part is how none of this seems irredeemable, and even on a cursory listen, the fixes seem obvious. For whatever reason, Ghost are holding themselves back, and they don’t need to do that. They never have; it’s why, when they properly let loose on their last couple of albums, they were so great. Skeletá, though, is rigid and immobile. Just look at Guiding Lights, which is clearly shooting for a colossal Monster Ballads mould, but is all too quick to have any potential opulence fizzle out. Facing some similar issues of inadequacy for purpose is Missilia Amori, effectively an extended ejaculation innuendo that thumps along about half a second slower than it should, and that makes a world of difference.
Granted, it’d all be much worse if there were genuine incompetence at play, rather than an issue that a decent remaster could ultimately paper over. A good example of that is De Profundis Borealis, one of the album’s better songs as it already stands, thanks to guitars that have more body. (Could do with some muscle, too, but still.) Song construction is fine; Forge’s panto-sinister vocal performance is fine; no one comes to Ghost for tremendous lyrical insight so there’s no issue there. It’s quite literally just the feel of the album that’s off, and the domino effect it causes leaves Skeletá rather high and dry.
So perhaps Ghost aren’t worthy of the extent of any ire for this album, but that’s not to say there isn’t admonishment to be doled out. They’ve still dropped the ball rather soundly, on a listen that seems to bring their weakest characteristics and impulses to the fore. At this point, Ghost shouldn’t be sounding this drained and disinterested, especially when Skeletá is only a small retool away from dispelling the majority of that. As it is right now, this isn’t all that memorable, or in line with exalted depiction that Ghost have often revelled in and still want to now. Material like this just doesn’t get them very far in those stakes. You probably wouldn’t even want your phone on you to capture most of these songs live; there’s not a lot to see here.
For fans of: The Sword, Blue Öyster Cult, Type O Negative
‘Skeletá’ by Ghost is out now on Loma Vista Records.
Words by Luke Nuttall
