Noisey Vs. MetalSucks - Ghost B.C. are the Shit

photo by Maija Lahtinen

Welcome to Point/Counterpoint, where we prove to the rest of the Internet that we are smarter and more right than any other editorial outlet on planet earth. We know these dudes who run a metal site called MetalSucks that people seem to like, so we challenged them to an editorial cagematch. The rules were simple: two blogs enter, one blog leaves. This week we're facing off over Slayer legacy post-Hanneman—we're of the opinion that the band should continue to operate however they like. For some reason, MetalSucks doesn't agree with us, and think the band should break up immediately, which is lunacy. You can read their wholly illegitimate response right here.

At the risk of sounding like Dana Carvey’s (Dana who?) Grumpy Old Man character from Saturday Night Live in the 90s, I’m gonna point out that there was a time before the filesharing and the Internet. We recorded scratchy LPs for our friends on low-quality 90-minute Maxell cassette tapes using substandard Pioneer stereo equipment and we listened to them on bulky Walkmans with headphones that covered the tops of our heads like a wire torture device that pinched our skulls until we suffered migraines that blinded us as we crossed the street and almost got hit by the Hondas whose honks we couldn’t hear because the music was too loud—and we liked it!

In the early 80s, rock and roll was shaded in mystery and rumor. To get good seats to a show, you had to line up for tickets—often the night before—and camp out. And to learn about bands, you had wait a month for the latest issues of Hit Parader, Circus, Kerrang! and Metal Hammer. Rolling Stone had even less interest in metal than they do now. The enigmatic environment benefited bands like Led Zeppelin, Black Sabbath, and even Alice Cooper. The mythology that circulated about these and other groups propelled their popularity and often far exceeded the debauched reality they actually existed in.

In today’s age of instant information, it’s difficult for bands to maintain any sort of anonymity. Slipknot managed it for a while—and still do, to a certain extent—and Tool effectively have cast a shadow over their personal lives and lyrics. But only Ghost B.C. have succeeded not only in keeping their faces and personalities hidden, but also in turning back the clock to a time when occult thought intertwined with the mainstream and bands like Zeppelin, Sabbath, Rainbow, Blue Oyster Cult, and even Jethro Tull created songs filled with mystery and magic.

While Ghost B.C.’s unwillingness to reveal their names is annoying, but it serves a purpose. All the musicians are known as Nameless Ghouls and refuse to talk about their skull-faced vocalist who dresses like the Pope, Papa Emeritus II; Papa, himself, only does interviews via email—apparently, sending letters composed from feather tips dipped in ink would fuck with magazine deadlines too severely.

In a recent interview I did with Ghost B.C.’s guitarists, one of the Nameless Ghouls told me, “The idea with Ghost was to pretend it was 1976 and that metal didn’t really exist. We wanted to step into the music as some sort of proto-metal thing, but combine that with pop, soundtrack music, theatrics, and whatever came into our minds.”

With such an aesthetic, Ghost B.C. can’t help but be a refreshing change of pace from much of what passes for modern metal. Their only real post-1983 influence is Mercyful Fate and King Diamond, and that inspiration is less evident on the band’s new album Infestissumam than it was on their 2010 debut Opus Eponymous. Are they metal? It depends how rigid you are about your definition of metal. But they’re certainly captivating, even without the kitschy, dramatic performances. Their songs are multifaceted, evocative and still catchy as hell, blending Latin church choirs, dramatic keyboards, and euphoric hooks into their rhythms. And Papa Emeritus II’s vocals are ominous, yet as tuneful as the Moody Blues.

Throw in their blasphemous stage show and Ghost B.C. is one of the most intriguing mainstream bands to sell their souls to Satan. Onstage, Papa Emeritus II raises a Papal staff as he performs in an outfit decorated with inverted crosses, looking like a demonic dignitary. Meanwhile, his back-up band remains clad in robes like Sun O))) and performs with uncanny skill and precision.

Granted, Ghost B.C.’s horror show pales compared to the slaughterhouse stench of Watain or the real bloodbaths of Shining (Swe), but Ghost B.C. aren’t there to outshock the most extreme bands in the metal scene. Their intent is to subvert from within, presenting occult ideas and philosophies in a mainstream context, which, to us, is far more effective than Norwegians with painted faces who preach to the converted.

It’s truly amazing that Ghost BC were able to secure a major label deal, receive the funding to have Nick Raskulinecz produce Infestissumam, and create such a lyrically blasphemous album. Nearly every song on the record is about the occult, and many have direct references to Satan and Lucifer that would give most label executives aneurysms.

Just check out the lyrics to “Year Zero,” a song that starts with chanting that could have come straight from The Exorcist and continues with a vocal hook as infectious as anything: “Hail Satan, Archangelo/ Hail Satan, Welcome year zero/ Belial, Behemoth, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, Satanas, Lucifer/ Crestfallen kings and queens comforting in their faith/ Unbeknownst to them is the presence of the wraith/ Since fate of man is equal to the fate of lice/ As new dawn rises you shalt recognize now behold the Lord Of Flies.”

Hail Satan. Hail Ghost. B.C. We remain your faithful servants evermore, transfixed in a time when Church of Satan founder Anton Szandor LaVey was leading marches through the streets, and Rosemary’s Baby was topping the films at the box office.

MetalSucks doesn't agree with us, which you might like if you like things in the world that are wrong. Read their wholly illegitimate response here.