Like so much about Ghost, tonight is shrouded in mystery. With the band’s experimental phone ban meaning that no details about the shows could be shared online, and a dark silken shroud covering the stage, a rare element of total surprise about what Papa V Perpetua and his Nameless Ghouls have in store hung in the air. This is what Ghost do so incredibly well; tantalising hints and clues about direction and pageantry – They combine the ancient and profane with very modern fandom building, opening a reliquary outside the venue for VIP ticket holders. Most importantly, they can put on one hell of a show.
The awe factor conjured by the final stage reveal suddenly puts the secrecy into context, and while there’s enough stage effects to retain Ghost’s status as a band who never rest on their laurels, it’s the figure of the new Papa that directs their set. Of course, we know it’s still Tobias Forge under the makeup and masks no matter what stage name he’s using, but Papa V Perpetua is more charismatic, a more likeable figurehead than Papa V. ‘Lachryma’ is already an anthem despite only being out for a week or so, and we’d pit if we could, some ten minutes into the show. Instead, our tidal wave of hands are risen for Papa’s benediction as he struts and cavorts above us, flicking in and out of costume changes. As the Ghouls on guitar duel at the front of the stage for ‘Majesty’, he levitates slowly above the stage, his voice a rasp, whispering lyrics as part of his modern maximalist metal rituals.
When they decide to pay a song straight – at least, as stripped down as they can manage, devoid of pyrotechnics or papacy – it’s a refreshing blow. Of course, we know that Ghost are good at what they do, and that’s an understatement. But when they hit pause on the drama, it strikes you all over again. ‘The Future Is A Foreign Land’, their song most rooted in the real world, feels like a sunny interlude in their set, all hope and happiness. Similarly, ‘Darkness At The Heart Of My Love’, with it’s bass booms and stomping bridges, displays a delicious purity, making it the epitome of the pop metal ballad. We’re here for the big antics though, and ‘Satanized’ must be the bucket list track for half of us. Papa leans over us, fey and poised, his face half concealed behind a steel skull, while he slows the bridge to provoke a moment of dark contemplation. As the tight clipping ends of each psychedelic chord of ‘Kiss The Go-Goat’ blend into an energising, slightly more rapid ‘Rats’, we barely notice the flames licking around the edges of the drum kit.
Our twenty first century Mystery Play only gathers more strength as we draw to a crescendo. ‘Mummy Dust’ is a foray into an undeniably Metal sound for Ghost as Papa growls his way through anticapitalistic vitriol, and ‘Monstrance clock’ reaches into proggy heaviness. It feels majestic in scope, the band shown as icons writ large across the stage in fuzz. But the true power they’re drawing on as we race through their set isn’t just flashy effects and well constructed setlists; it’s the subtle shift away from the single figure of the frontman towards the group. The two Nameless Ghouls on guitar, awarded top hats to signify their status, are given ample time in the spotlight, and Papa takes the time to reminisce about his first show in London fifteen years ago. The compliment feels warm and genuine. The sneering and condescension that marked his stage banter on screen have been swept away, replaced with inclusion. He even cracks a smile during a very gentle joke about being predictable when called back for the encore, and skips during ‘Mary On A Cross’, a song that feels more real than reality itself. We’ve all heard it, played on repeat in our headphones, but to hear it live? It’s an achievement. ‘Danse Macabre’ pushes the standing sections of the sold out area to their feet, and to take a glance around and see thousands really and truly dancing brings a glow to your chest. As they close on ‘Square Hammer’, the camera swing round to display us, and for three glorious minutes we’re the stars that Papa, resplendent in purple sequins, is watching.
We can all complain about high ticket prices and rules for shows that feel unnecessary, but for once, we got a show that was absolutely worth it. The whole spectacle, when underpinned with music from a band at the top of their game, made this show and undoubtedly the whole tour that little bit more magical than even the most hardcore fans anticipated. The bar has now been set higher than ever for what can be created during an arena show, and we didn’t even need to sell our souls to experience it.
KATE ALLVEY
Photo: Ryan Chang