7 Things We Love About Ghost’s New Album ‘Skeletá’

Here are seven things we love about Skeletá, the sixth studio album from the masters of modern macabre rock, Ghost.

In an era where many bands blur into the background, few have carved out a persona as unmistakable as their sound. Enter Ghost, a theatrical juggernaut conjured by mastermind Tobias Forge; the Abba-meets-Alice Cooper visionary who’s turned the band into a genre, and decade defining phenomenon.

Over the past decade, Ghost have ascended the shimmering throne of glam-infused hard rock, reigning supreme with a recent string of unforgettable records. From the haunting grandeur of 2018’s Prequelle, to the bombastic brilliance of 2022’s Impera, and now, the very much-hyped arrival of 2025’s Skeletá, Ghost have casually redefined what it means to be a successful hard rock band in the modern day.

There’s a slew of reasons as to why Ghost has found themselves at the top of the glittery glam rock pile and continue their reign with Skeletá.

Yes, somehow, while the rest of the rock world cannibalizes its own nostalgia or burns out in a blaze of mediocrity after three or four album releases, Ghost have managed to keep the fire burning brighter than ever.

With the release of Skeletá and its smattering of spine-tingling singles released thus far, the band continues to prove that their quality control is far from dead. It’s just wearing corpse paint and preaching doom.

From the very first synth stab of the album’s lead single “Satanized,” it’s proof that Tobias Forge is seemingly never out of ideas; he’s stockpiling them like relics in a haunted cathedral. While other acts fumble or water down their identity, Ghost double down on theirs. The hooks are sharper, the choruses are grander, and the lyrics? Still delightfully blasphemous, thank you very much! And through it all, that uncanny balance still remains: tongue-in-cheek and playful while still remaining deadly serious and profound.

With each album, I find myself thinking that there’s no way they’ll be able to top this on future releases. But, someway, somehow, they always do.

Leave it to Ghost to make Latin feel dangerous again. On Skeletá, the band doesn’t just flirt with the ancient tongue, they embrace it; invoking it like a spellbook left collecting dust in the Vatican archives. Song titles such as “Lachryma” (Latin for “tear”), “Umbra” (“shadow”), and “Missilia Amori” (“missiles of love,” and yes, it’s just as dramatic as it sounds) drip with ecclesiastical gravitas. It’s part sermon, seance, and as always is 100 percent Ghost.

Ghost, and more specifically Tobias Forge, have always blurred the line between theater and theology. Tapping into Latin, the language of liturgy, empire, and exorcisms, is a genius move that continues to deepen the band’s mythos. There’s something thrilling about hearing a song titled “De Profundis Borealis” and knowing it’s not going to be some chill, indie ballad, but instead is going to consume you.

Latin carries weight. It’s the language of old Gods and sacred rites. It’s spooky, scholarly, and stylish all at once.

So, go ahead now, don’t be afraid! Dust off your old Latin textbook and dive into Ghost’s ever growing mystique.

Ghost have never just released music; they practically summon it. Every album cycle feels like a ritual rebirth, and with the music video for “Lachryma,” the curtains have officially parted on one of their most striking transformations to date. Enter Forge’s latest incarnation of his ever evolving anti-Pope: Papa V Perpetua. Draped in royal purple and ink-black vestments, Papa also dons a new “half-mask” showing more of Forge’s actual face more so than any other time in Ghost’s history.

Along with the introduction of Papa V Perpetua, the Skeletá era also includes a change in garb for Papa’s accompanying Nameless Ghouls. Once background specters, they now feel like fully realized character’s in Ghost’s dark liturgy. Their new attire, a blend of skeletal armor and high-end goth couture (even fit with metallic collars, suit tails and impressive top hats) makes them look like a secret society of stylish necromancers.

READ MORE: The Big Misconception About Ghost’s View on Religion

Ghost have always played the long game: musically, theatrically, and mythologically. But one of their greatest tricks? Crafting concept albums that never feel like concept albums. They don’t beat you over the head with the narrative, but instead plant seeds, motifs, and a mood that allow the album and accompanying themes to grow.

Take Prequelle for instance: on the surface, it’s a glorious glam metal record. But, underneath the hooks and bombastic choruses lies a not-so-subtle mention of plague, death and the fragility of life. Then there’s Impera, which never directly tells you about the rise and fall of power, but has a message in plain sight beyond the band’s most accessible, arena-ready songs of their career.

Now we arrive at Skeletá which is the quietest scream of all. A record less about society’s collapse and more about what’s left inside when the mask is removed. It’s a constant reckoning with guilt, identity, faith and failure. Still theatrical as ever, but the real drama unfolds in the mirror.

What makes Ghost’s approach so compelling is that these themes never overpower the music, but instead drastically enhance it. It gives structure without confinement. In true Ghost fashion, you’re never handed the map, but the path is prominent. You just have to look a little deeper.

From the very first listen, it’s crystal clear that “Missilia Amori” isn’t just another standout track on Skeletá; it’s a a full-blown instant classic. No hesitation. No qualifiers. This one is headed straight for the upper echelon of Ghost’s greatest hits. That opening riff? It’s the kind of riff that grabs you by the collar; imagine if Black Sabbath decided to tease their hair, slip into leather pants and write a riff for a neon-lit apocalypse.

All of this without even mentioning the track’s lyrics, which is seemingly littered with its fair share of innuendos. “Love rockets / Shot right in between your eyes / Love rockets / Excite me with your demise.” Now, I don’t know about you, but that feels like it could only mean one thing.

Mark these words: when the curtain eventually falls on the Skeletá era, this is one of the songs fans will still be howling and unison and begging to be included on every future setlist. “Missilia Amori” is the kind of track that turns first-time listeners into lifelong converts.

There’s keyboard playing and then there’s Jon Lord keyboard playing; a distinction any hard rock fan should know just like scripture. It’s no secret that Tobias Forge has found himself influenced by a myriad of rock and metal’s most notable bands and players, and while his ’70s and ’80s rock influence is seen littered throughout the entire length of Skeletá, it’s especially seen on the already infamous “Umbra.”

Sure, the track kicks off in drenched sugary synths, more Tiffany-at-the-mall than metal-in-the-church, but don’t be fooled. What starts as an ’80s pop wink erupts into something far darker, louder and gloriously over-the-top. It’s a bait-and-switch that only Ghost could pull off: bubblegum bait with a black mass twist.

About three minutes into the track, here comes the keyboards and riffs straight off of Deep Purple’s Machine Head.

The influence comes screaming through in the form of overdriven organ tones that growl and purr with attitude. We’re talking big, bold, baroque phrasing, soaked in distortion and delivered with the drama of a cathedral pipe organ possessed by a blues demon. Lord’s unmistakable fingerprints are all over “Umbra,” yet it never feels like mimicry. This is Ghost in full form, weaving their infernal charm through the influence, bending it to their will and making it sound unmistakably theirs.

As any Ghost fan knows, there’s one sacred tradition that Ghost never break and that’s ending an album with a cinematic, bone-chilling, epic track. From the slow burning “Monstrance Clock” on Infestissuman, “Life Eternal” on Prequelle, and “Respite On The Spitalfields” from Impera, and now “Excelsis” — Ghost know exactly how to close a curtain.

These final tracks are never throwaways or sleepy outros. They’re sprawling, emotional epilogues! They’re where Tobias Forge leans hardest into Ghost’s cinematic flair, where the band dials up the orchestration, the atmosphere and the production. It’s where Papa goes full preacher and it always feels intentional; as if the whole album was building towards this precise, spellbinding moment.

With Skeletá, the tradition continues. “Excelsis” doesn’t just stick the landing, but practically leaves you floating. It’s bittersweet, like watching the credits roll on a journey that you’re not quite ready to leave yet.

That’s Ghost’s ultimate signature: to make the ending feel eternal. Because in the Church of Ghost, nothing ever ends, it just evolves and changes form.