It's been three years since Swedish rockers, Ghost, last graced the UK with their eerie presence. A few months later, the world went nuts; Coronavirus threw enough spanners in the works to daunt even heavy metal's bluest of chips. Nevertheless, Ghost coolly returns this year with their highest-charting record to date, Impera, alongside an increasingly grandiose stage show to prove they are on the level of rock's elite.
First up is satanic doo-wop sextuple, Twin Temple. For a band that played at the intimate Jazz Cafe on their last visit to the capital, husband and wife duo - Alexandra and Zachary James - have no problems commanding the vast stage of the O2 arena along with their backing group. Zachary's guitar rings out jangly chords and surf-rock leads. A saxophonist and bassist sway beside a ritual table adorned with occult paraphernalia. Meanwhile, Alexandra prances up and down the catwalk, her sirenic voice pulsating against the dome's already compromised roofing to deliver a thumping rendition of Sex Magick to an enthralled crowd. The set closes with some casual blood-drinking; Satan has arrived.
"We are Uncle Acid and The Deadbeats, and we are here to ruin your evening", shouts frontman Kevin Starrs before descending into a whirlwind of hair. Whilst the crunch of mind-bending tracks like Ritual Knife might be too abrasive to win over casual Ghost fans, Uncle Acid's hypnotic brand of psychedelic doom gets heads banging of those who know and love their seventies roots. The gargantuan riffing of the penultimate song, I'll Cut You Down, only accentuates this as Uncle Acid lays waste to the O2 with their claustrophobic wall of sound, barely saying a word along the way.
The elegant piano keys of Klara Stjärnor cleanse palates as the stage is set for Ghost's biggest show yet. The lights go down. The curtain falls; three stained glass windows form a backdrop, and the opening 'hey' of Kaisarion abounds jubilantly from the ghulehs. Three steampunk ghouls seemingly dart from nowhere - followed by Papa Emeritus himself - to rapturous cheers.
Over the next two hours, Ghost proves they're already veterans of crafting the ultimate arena-rock experience. Pyro spews superfluously for a menacing performance of Year Zero, canons explode with confetti and elusive 666 dollars during Mummy Dust, and Tobias Forge has more costume changes than you can shake a stick at - each one more flamboyant than the last.
In keeping with their previous tour, Ghost's setlist leans heavily on Meliora and Prequelle. Nevertheless, the introduction of tracks such as Call Me Little Sunshine and Spillways go down a storm among the clergy, the latter receiving possibly the loudest reception of the evening and sending Tobias into full rock star mode. The guitar duel also makes a comeback. Although critics may have preferred a deep cut from Opus Eponymous instead, it's clear that the banter between the ghouls has become as much a staple of Ghost's live show as Papa's talk of "taint tickling" (don't worry, we get that too!)
Our favourite anti-pope brings the show to a close with a heartfelt "thank you" to everyone who came out despite their pandemic-related worries. Keen to celebrate our togetherness after two years of isolation, Tobias leads his flock - comprising people of every age, race, and gender - through an undeniable encore of Dance Macabre and Square Hammer. Whilst such pop-oriented hits continue to divide metalheads everywhere, the diversity and devotion of Ghost's 20,000 strong crowd tonight crowns them as heavy music's most unifying force. If you have Ghost, you have everything.
Words by Jason French
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