The appeal of Ghost is that their costumes and
satanic lyrics give them a metal sensibility that makes listening to them a
form of escapism while their music straddles the line between metal and rock
with its heavy riffs and catchy sing-along choruses resulting in a sound that’s
much more pleasing to the ear than one would expect from a band dressed in
corpse paint singing about the devil. After
buying Opus Eponymous, their first album, I listened to nothing else for
almost a month and still play it quite frequently, and their show I attended in
D.C. will remain one of the most memorable experiences I’ve had of live
music.
Infestissumam,
their second album, was one of the most anticipated metal releases of the year,
and overall, it’s good, but I’ve lost interest pretty quickly. I think the problem is that it sounds too
clean and has too many songs that border on soft rock. The costumes and lyrical content haven’t
changed, so the softer sound results in an odd listening experience. It feels a bit silly listening to satanic
songs that wouldn’t be out of place on an easy-listening compilation if only
the lyrics were slightly revised to praise one’s lover, child, or Jesus rather
than Lucifer. This, however, is probably
the point: the devil is deceptive and can spread his ideas more easily through
pleasant-sounding music. Regardless, when
songs about Satan begin sounding heartfelt, the act has gone too far. The irony is lost and it becomes laughable.
Infestissumam
does, however, contain several songs that preserve the sound of the first
album. Two stand-outs are “Secular Haze”
and “Yero Zero,” both of which have the eeriness I had grown to expect from a
Ghost song. The deluxe version also
contains a haunting cover of Abba’s “I’m a Marionette.” Despite my disappointment in Infestissumam,
Ghost remain a very interesting band.
Their identities are still secret, and I’m curious to see how they’ll
preserve the mystique as their popularity grows. In interviews, they claim to want to play
stadiums, and they are definitely developing an arena-friendly sound, but I’m
having trouble imagining a packed-stadium of fans holding up lighters and
singing along to, “Come together, together as one. Come together, for Lucifer’s
son.” If they succeed, they will have
realized many-a-parent’s worst fears about the corrupting influence of rock
music.
