GHOST
Meliora
Spinefarm (2015)
Rating: 7/10
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And so the masked entity has returned; Meliora being the third instalment from this widely-appreciated clan of Swedish ghouls who is ready to start another satanic panic. With the last two albums – Opus Eponymous (2010) and Infestissumam (2013) – barely making a mark on my psyche due to their often all too tepid nature, it’s fair to say that Meliora is still very much classic Ghost and will not disappoint those disciples who’ve become fixated on their devilish leanings.
The combo once again finds themselves as a pastiche of Gothic prog, occult rock and watery metal – the overall fascination for me being the Scooby-Doo appearance and premise rather than the actual music which so often fails to live up to their apparent menace.
But fair play to Ghost, they have found a niche tapping into the minds of so many lost souls who clearly have no knowledge of the stuffy esoteric 70s and it’s more authentic worshippers of Satan. And so Meliora, as expected, is another mildly entertaining, sporadically spooky and consistently catchy opus, but still lacking in that accidental hit to catapult Ghost into Eurovision Song Contest glory! And believe me, the band most certainly seems to be aiming for super-stardom; almost as if manufactured by some unseen puppet-master hell-bent on world domination.
The composition offers up ten spectral tunes, beginning with the almost graceful waft of ‘Spirit’. The track begins like some childish soundtrack to an All Hallows’ Eve party before the lukewarm riff drives with ominous fashion. But thank the dark lord himself for those drums, which provide an ideal backdrop of weight until Papa Emeritus III begins his preaching of evil. The track simmers but never explodes even in spite of some atmospheric, Gothic orchestration – Ghost always maintaining that steady, phantasmal plod but one which remains leagues and fathoms below Mercyful Fate’s truly pitch black summoning’s.
For me, Ghost is akin to staring into the fires of Hell but never once getting burned; the outfit clearly attempting to suggest satanic association by marrying it with almost frivolous jollity, so as to conjure up an air of suspicion and folklore. Unfortunately, it’s just never enough for me. But respect must go to the band for the ghoul-a-go-go rumble of ‘From The Pinnacle To The Pit’ with its meatier grind. However, it still leaves me gagging for King Diamond to come bursting from his coffin, pushing Papa aside and grabbing Lucifer by the horns and adding that extra sinister steel.
But this is how Ghost plays their game; almost meddling and dawdling like a newly formed cult that never fully acts out its promises or threats. At times it’s still musically entertaining; the guitars very much twiddling with the quality of some lost 70s psych seven-inch, conjuring up images of cloaked marauders descending upon foggy gravestones for a night of ritualistic fun. But as I’ve stated from day one, there has to come a time when the novelty wears off, surely? Unless these guys transform into something entirely different I can’t see how four, five or more albums of this same half-hinted spook rock can succeed.
Those who have missed Slayer at their mightiest should check out the slow, ominous brooding of ‘Cirice’, which sounds as if it’s been lifted from the American thrashers classic 1988 South Of Heaven platter. But the expected contradiction comes with Papa’s calming, almost hypnotic sermon backed by a toothier rhythm section. And for me, that’s where Meliora succeeds; providing the listeners with a few sharper edges to contend with rather than the predictably lucid, soft-cornered psychedelia. ‘Cirice’ is easily one of the band’s finest moments even with its familiarity – it’s plodding suggesting the unearthly march of ghouls from their catacombs into the streets where they hold high banners of wickedness to entice the sinful. Of course, Ghost is masterful at throwing a curveball which comes via a more relaxed, yet haunting mid-section as a melancholic piano trickles and then it’s back to that recognisable trudge.
Isn’t it strange how for all their unoriginality Ghost remains distinctive? Indeed, should one hear their unholy waft a million miles away above the thunder we’d still recognise the etheric traipse. But as I’ve said time and time again, Ghost remains so woefully unfulfilling – drifting along like some modern horror remake of an old classic that at times has us looking under the bed but rarely fully scared or thrilled.
‘Spöksonat’ is a short introduction to the downright cheesy ‘He Is’; a summery jaunt that could have laced the soundtrack to the classic 1973 film The Wicker Man, but then again it could also be a lost Abba classic – haunting in its melodies but blunt in overall execution. And this is something I’d apply to nigh on everything Ghost does, because rather than get snagged on this groovy ghoulies bandwagon I’d much prefer to sit back and examine this esoteric artefact for what it really is. And the harsh facts are that Ghost are a half-decent rock band with enough pop sensibility to befuddle the hardiest of headbangers but not fool or hypnotise the veteran know-it-all’s.
Sure, the metalheads among you will no doubt find something doomier to march to with the Candlemass-cum-Trouble chug of ‘Mummy Dust’. Indeed, it’s another creepy-castle gem, as is the thudding doom rock of ‘Absolution’. But I’m probably the only follower of this band becoming quickly bored by Papa’s lukewarm vocal sneers. For some it’s no doubt haunting and spooky. However, I’m spending most of my time waiting for this half-hearted, mild-mannered beast to break free of its costumes and fry us with something truly evil… but it never happens. And so we get the expected middle of the road 70s plod rock with ‘Majesty’ and the closing ‘Deus In Absentia’ with its commercial, pop-laced glum dregs and catchy chorus which oh so quickly burrows into the brain via the ear canal until its chorus choir leads us out.
And so the service is over, Ghost once again attracting the masses to their ritual and brainwashing many with their seemingly corrupt hymns. My only concern is that when and if they ever decide to reveal their identities, it might just turn out that Ghost’s line-up features Dave Grohl and the Kardashians.
I so wish I could put my finger on as to why Ghost just doesn’t fully float my boat; and I’ll happily admit that I’ll always hitch a ride on this phantom carnival float. But this is not a band or sound that I crave, and so with heavy heart I search elsewhere for my career of evil and secret treaties… geddit?
Neil Arnold
