Subscribe to my YouTube channel right here!

Ghost might be one of the most important bands in heavy metal right now, and Skeletá proves it. Tobias Forge and his merry band of Ghouls are back with their sixth overall record to date, named Skeletá. Skeletá, once again, features artwork by Zbigniew Bielak, who’s done every Ghost cover since Infestissumam, mixing by Andy Wallace and Dan Malsch, and additional songwriting by three people—frequent Ghost collaborators Salem Al Fakir and Vincent Pontare; and Max Grahn, who has the most songwriting credits he’s ever had on a Ghost record, on Skeletá.

And before we get into the music, let’s just take a beat and talk about this cover artwork over here. Bielak, as usual, has utterly crushed it, and while he hasn’t spoken about it extensively, he did make a few comments to fans about it on his Instagram. When asked about the inspiration for the cover, Bielak responded that the composition was inspired by the movie Citizen Kane, and the atmosphere of the painting was inspired by the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey. Bielak also talked a little bit about the fact that you could see either a character looking at you or you’re looking at the back of their head, saying, “it was very hard to balance, but it worked. What you’re seeing depends on which Papa you focus on.”

And I think the artwork does a really great job setting the stage for what you’re about to hear on Skeletá—in that it’s someone on the inside looking out, someone who’s got time to explore their own mind in an empty room. Or, if you want to take the inverse opinion and look at the skeletal Papa that’s looking back at you, it’s someone who’s kind of turned their back on the world and is looking out on the vast emptiness of nothing. They’re looking inward. They’re just very introspective in that way. Again, it’s very cool and very pertinent, considering that Skeletá is a far cry from its predecessor, Impera. Impera dealt with societal issues and the collapse of empires, while Skeletá is a much more introspective record.

In an interview with Philadelphia’s 93.3 WMMR radio station, Forge explained why he chose to go in the opposite direction and look more internally on Skeletá, saying that Skeletá is more “shining a light on the inside and making a record about the healing aspects of being essentially human, being in whatever structural design. Because at the end of the day, most humans are surprisingly alike and display the same abilities to sentiments. And these sentiments are usually quite basic, and that idea was attractive to me, making a record that had a song about hope, had a song about hate, had a song about love, acceptance, and all these things.”

So with all that in mind, and a skeletal Papa V Perpetua either looking away into the world or staring you down, let’s take a dive into this record. Let’s take a look at the music. Skeletá opens up with the longest opener of any Ghost record, “Peacefield.” The song goes from just a sole child’s voice backed by a gentle organ-sounding synth pad, and then eventually kind of opens up to being joined by the rest of the choir. Then about a minute in, you’re greeted with a single guitar, some light drums, and the first time you hear Perpetua‘s vocals on Skeletá.

What I think is especially cool about the switch between the choir and then the whole band coming in is that they’re both backed by either the same synth or a very similar synth for continuity. It’s a nice touch. And that section slowly builds and builds, and then finally you get some real Ghost bombast. That whole “This is what dreams are made of” hook just hits so hard. And I love the use of alternating bars of 4/4 and 2/4, because it gives it this really nice push and pull that makes it hit that much harder. You’re off-kilter, but you’re not that off-kilter. It’s just a really, really cool little trick that they pull.

And if you thought that “This is what dreams are made of” bit was the actual chorus of the song—because it’s super catchy—absolutely not. Ghost totally pulls a Bonnie Tyler and hits you with the actual chorus of the song that I can only describe as totally fist-pumping. It’s got a lot of staccato going on that punches really hard before launching into the rest of the song. And speaking of little moments that make this song that much more grandiose, the second chorus has like this string synth playing some really high notes over top that I didn’t initially notice, but it gives the already massive chorus an additional sense of spaciousness. It kind of really opens it up to just this massive quality. Really opens up the room for Skeletá to kind of walk in.

There’s a guitar solo performed by Opeth‘s Fredrik Åkesson, to perfection, as usual—some half-tempo stuff, and then a build that climaxes with this extremely cool synthesizer passage. The attack on the synth almost sounds like someone is trying to claw their way out of something, as the rest of the band does these short little instrumental hits in the background. And again, it’s the little things that propels “Peacefield,” and the fact that you can’t go like 15 seconds in the song without getting hit by another hook, and into the darkness you go.

And into the darkness you do. “Lachryma” opens up with some very 80s synthwave lines, before pulling back the curtain and revealing some very serious Meliora-style stomp. This feels very reminiscent of “Cirice” from that album, though, almost like it’s viewed through the lens of Opus Eponymous. Then we get to the chorus of “Lachryma”, which I maintain has three simultaneous elements working in tandem to make it so damn infectious.

One is that the chorus vocals are just straight up catchy. It’s a great melody. The harmonies are nice and tight, and the lyrics are very easily memorable. You can hear this song once and already be singing along by the second chorus. Two is that the synth part from the intro underlines the entire chorus, adding a sense of familiarity to the whole thing. Those two aspects, working in tandem, are just straight up killer. Plus that key change in the final chorus, where Ghost switches out the synths for some additional vocal harmonies and additional guitars in the background for that one last hook, is just such a great touch.

And then the third element is the moments right before the chorus. Everything goes from this largely static and stable harmonic structure to this tense and toppling feeling that spills right over into the satisfying resolution of the chorus. And then the other little detail that makes “Lachryma” so cool is the passing vocal moment in the second verse. Specifically, that last line, right after “getting worse by the hour,” I couldn’t quite make out the lyrics and I don’t want to be wrong about it, but there are death growls in the background. Tobias Forge is channeling his inner Repugnant frontman and straight up growling that last line as a backup vocal. And how cool is that, right? I’m not saying that Ghost needs to go full-on death metal here, but incorporating that style of vocal as a textural thing more could be really cool in the future.

Then you’ve got “Satanized,” the lead single from Skeletá and the one that started all the hype. I can’t help but feel like this song is a spiritual successor to “Secular Haze,” in that they were both the first singles, and they both have this kind of big old swinging 3/4 energy. “Satanized” was a cool choice for a first single as it really showcases the kind of dark introspection that Skeletá explores. Forge has stated that the song is about being hopelessly in love, with the metaphor being that, you know, it’s physically possessing and destroying the main character. And again, it’s not a “we” song. It’s very specific to this one person in this song. And I just think it was a very cool way to kind of let everyone know, like, “hey, listen—this record is going to be dark. This record’s definitely going to be heavier, and it’s going to be more of an internal record.” You know, that really did kind of sum up what you were about to hear. And again, I thought that was just a great choice for a first single.

“Guiding Lights” is the ballad of the record, and offers a nice reprieve from all the stadium-sized heavy metal that you’ve heard up to this point. “Guiding Lights” really leans hard on its hook—that whole “the road that leads to nowhere is long” bit—but it’s a solid hook, and it really works. And there’s no reason that Ghost shouldn’t lean on that. And I think the reason that “Guiding Lights” works so well with that one major hook is not because it’s such a great hook, but everything that surrounds the hook. This one features writing by Forge and Grahn, who do a lot of these little kind of half-step pulls up and down alongside some great suspended chord resolutions throughout the song to again, you know for lack of a better term, kind of guiding you into the chorus—they guide you into that. So by the time that hits, it’s just awesome.

What I’m saying is that “Guiding Lights” has an uneasy flow throughout that really only resolves with the more concrete melodic ideas in the chorus, making it feel that much better when the chorus arrives. Ballads have also largely been a strong suit for Ghost, outside the worst Ghost song ever, “Pro Memoria” but we’ll talk about that another time. So I guess I’m not too surprised that, yeah, Ghost nails another ballad.

“De Profundis Borealis” is the next song, and it’s really interesting in that it goes through a few segments before finally getting to the first verse. The song opens at this kind of lonely piano before blasting off into this big, wide-open Iron Maiden-ish part, complete with some backing organ and dual guitar leads, before that all eventually falls away to reveal a single-note riff, and then you’re actually into the first verse of the song.

Once you get into the verses and choruses of “De Profundis Borealis,” there’s something really interesting rhythmically that happens that I didn’t initially notice. The verses are in 6/4, or what feels like 4/4 plus a bar of 2/4 to make 6/4. And then all of a sudden, the pre-chorus is just straight four, and the chorus is also four, but it’s split into groupings of three, three, and two. So it’s almost like you’re speeding up into this really, really driving chorus, even though the tempo never changed. It’s a very cool effect.

I have a feeling that “De Profundis Borealis” and the next track, “Cenotaph,” are gonna be the two sleeper hits on this record. “De Profundis Borealis” blasts forth with such conviction and energy that it’s really hard not to get pumped when you hear this song—doubly so when you get to the chorus. And speaking of “Cenotaph,” I had a really hard time with this song. It’s this big, star-gazing, positive, upbeat track that touches heavily on losing someone you love. It’s one of my favorite tracks on Skeletá. But emotionally, this is a really tough song to listen to.

In an interview with Rolling Stone UK, Forge said that “Cenotaph” is “about the idea of someone who passed away, and simply the idea so wonderfully depicted in the film Coco. If you want to see a simple, nice explanation of the concept of death and remembrance—someone who’s passed away is alive inside you—as long as you and people remember that person, he or she will be alive in some essence.”

And yeah, I remember the first time that I heard “Cenotaph,” and I genuinely got teary-eyed. It’s a great song, and it’s extremely catchy, especially with that big, kind of galloping triplet feel throughout. But those lyrics, coupled with that kind of warm, reassuring hug of the music that lets you know that maybe those who have passed on are still with us deep down… it’s tough, man. I really like this song, but this, again, this was a tearjerker. This was a tough one.

Outside the emotional battery of “Cenotaph,” musically it’s just a great way to kick off the second half of Skeletá. Skeletá opens up with “Peacefield,” which is a much brighter song compared to what follows it, and they do the same with Side B thanks to “Cenotaph.” Following “Cenotaph,” you’ve got “Missilia Amori,” which is arguably the weakest song on Skeletá. For the most part, it just feels like an underwritten Def Leppard track that’s missing something—or at least could have benefited from some additional sections or instrumentation or something.

I guess I was just a little surprised by “Missilia Amori,” because everything up to this point on Skeletá has been very intricately written and thoughtful in its flow, but “Missilia Amori” just kind of felt like this blatant swing at this big ’80s strip club anthem that didn’t quite land—especially coming off something as sentimental and beautifully written as “Cenotaph.”

The one thing I will give “Missilia Amori” is the bridge and solo section—they’re fantastic. That melodic change from the last chorus into the bridge is such a nice touch, and the guitar solo has this really lonely quality to it that almost feels like it’s singing to itself before the rest of the band joins in. But yeah, “Missilia Amori”—it’s definitely my least favorite song on Skeletá. It just kind of feels undercooked.

And I sort of feel the same way about the next track, “Marks of the Evil One,” that I do about “Missilia Amori,” in that it just feels a little lacking after everything that came before it—and what’s about to come after. “Marks of the Evil One” is just a lot of lyrics that get jammed into not a lot of space. It feels like Forge had a very specific story in mind and really tried to get it all in there, to varying degrees of success.

I’m also still on the fence about how I feel about that “there, there, there” copy-and-paste thing throughout the entire chorus. On one hand, I find myself singing it constantly. I can’t get it out of my head. On the other hand, it feels so incongruous to the overall heavy metal vibe of this song and the record that I don’t know—it just kind of threw me for a loop.

Still, “Marks of the Evil One” isn’t a bad song. It’s still pretty catchy, like I said, and I really do love the rest of the chorus that isn’t the “there, there” bit… unless I do love that bit? I guess it’s been stuck in my head for like, months on end at this point. So I guess there’s gotta be something to it, right? Regardless, “Marks of the Evil One” is not a bad song. It’s a step up from “Missilia Amori” and sets you up for the final one-two punch of Skeletá.

And then you’re on to the last two songs of Skeletá. The first one is “Umbra,” which kicks off with that synth intro that you’ve been hearing since the “What a Fiasco!” video in 2024. And that kind of goes for a little bit and sort of lulls you into this false sense of, you know, maybe this is gonna be a little bit more of a synthwave thing. Maybe the ’80s are finally here on this record. And the ’80s are kind of here! But instead, it comes in the form of a good old cowbell-driven guitar riff. “Umbra” has this super loose feel to it through the verses, that tightens up during the bridge and then goes all guns blazing into the chorus. It’s almost like “Umbra” is faking this goofy little limp, like it’s not that vicious, and then all of a sudden goes into a dead sprint right at you.

The solo section of “Umbra” is very cool too, in that it has almost this kind of Meat Loaf–inspired thing going on where it’s just drums backing a guitar and organ trading off riffs before the two intertwine for a wholly energetic closeout. And if this is a reference to Meat Loaf like I think it is—specifically “Paradise by the Dashboard Light”—and if that solo section is kind of a musical metaphor for two people getting to biblically know each other, that checks out. Because this song is about having sex.

In an interview with Rolling Stone UK, Forge said, “I just wanted there to be toward the end a climactic coital song about banging, because at the end of the day, that’s one of the driving forces that has, obviously, since day one of human existence, been high on the priority list, and it makes most people quite happy, especially the idea of it. So it’s actually quite a positive subject, and it felt like a great end scene, whereas ‘Excelsis,’ that follows it, is more like a credit. That’s sort of the song that plays in the end credits.”

And I know what Forge meant when he said that “Excelsis” is kind of a credit song for the record—now that the action is over—but relegating this song to simply a credit sequence would be a crime. “Excelsis” has a pretty wide range of harmonic motion in that it really does a good job climbing up to these very hopeful highs and dropping down to some despairing lows, just giving this song an overall sonic vibe of uncertainty. “Excelsis” feels cautiously hopeful.

Or as Forge explained to Metal Hammer UK, “the overall messaging—even though it’s very death-heavy—is simply that you are listening to this because you are alive, and you should live life as effectively as possible, because death is inevitable.” And it’s a nice message. And it’s a pretty good song.

I’m not sure that “Excelsis” is the strongest closer Ghost has ever had on their records, but it does bookend the album quite nicely. And that “Peacefield” was hopeful, and “Excelsis” is, for better or worse, hopeful. It’s just kind of dark. Also, shout out to Forge for putting the two absolute tearjerkers on Skeletá—both on Side B. Between “Cenotaph” and “Excelsis,” it gets kind of brutal at the end.

I mean, overall, Skeletá just feels like the first Ghost record where all previous albums collide. You’ve got the occult riffing of Opus Eponymous. You’ve got the drama of Infestissumam. The obviously stadium-sized stomp of Meliora. And the pop-meets-heavy-metal sensibilities of both Prequelle and Impera. Forge has a great command of everything Ghost has done up to this point, and he knows damn well how to wield it.

Overall, I think Skeletá is a solid 8 out of 10 for me. I think it’s a very good record that fans are going to find a lot to love about. Again, my only real complaint is that the second half is just less consistent than the first half. Things start off strong with “Cenotaph,” but Skeletá kind of falters on “Missilia Amori” and “Marks of the Evil One,” to a lesser extent. And they just, again, feel sort of incongruous to the rest of the record—because the rest of the record is extremely well-written and beautifully nuanced.

But I don’t know. “Missilia Amori” and “Marks of the Evil One” are not like record-ruining songs or anything like that. I’m certainly not gonna skip them when I’m listening to it, especially if I’m listening on vinyl or CD. They’re just a bit of a duller shine than the rest of Skeletá. But again, Skeletá has a lot going for it. The record sounds great. The production makes every layer very clear, which adds to this overall sense of size and grandiosity. There are plenty of bangers on this record, and it’s just obvious that Ghost is cementing their place as one of the biggest and most important heavy metal bands of this millennium.

And if you’re asking yourself, “why is Ghost one of the most important metal bands of this millennium?” It’s easy—because they’re bringing the classic heavy metal spirit to the masses, and people are loving it. And sure, you’ve got plenty of heavier bands bringing a more modern metal sound to the stadium crowds, like Sleep Token and Bring Me the Horizon and Bad Omens. And you’ve also got much heavier bands bringing kind of an extreme touch to the much bigger crowds, like Gojira and Knocked Loose.

But Ghost is marrying modern metal sensibilities in terms of their show and keeping themselves ever present on social media and really doing a lot of crowd outreach and just becoming bigger and bigger and bigger with a very core traditional heavy metal sound. They’re bringing heavy metal into the next generation, and Skeletá once again proves their importance within the metal realm. This is a metal record that die-hard metal fans can enjoy, and so can your parents, and so can your friends. It’s metal for everyone, and that’s a beautiful thing. All hail Papa V Perpetua. Long may he reign.