Pantomime pageantry and Satanic provocation is all well and good, but there’s deeper, more subversive purpose in Ghost’s never-ending lore. Kneeling at their unholy altar, we slip beneath those bedazzled vestments to chart all the dark humour, razorblade social commentary and righteous purpose on the path of the Papas...
“The Devil, the originator of sorrowful anxieties and restless troubles, flees before the sound of music almost as much as before the Word of God,” reads a famous quote from 16th century German priest and theologian Martin Luther. “Music is a gift and grace of God, not an invention of men. Thus it drives out The Devil and makes people cheerful. Then one forgets all wrath, impurity and other devices.”
Fuck knows what the esteemed figure would have made of the stratospheric rise of Ghost.
Satanic subversion is hardly unheralded in rock and metal, but rarely has it been as intertwined with the colour, pageantry and anticlerical purpose of the real clergy. Stepping from the shadows during the papacy of controversial pontiff Joseph Alois Ratzinger – Pope Benedict XVI, the one previously enrolled in the Hitler Youth – Tobias Forge’s vision for his band wasn’t so much about rejecting Catholicism as infernally co-opting and exaggerating its opulence, over-the-top aesthetics and confounding power structures. Indeed, where God builds a church, The Devil builds a chapel.
“A rock concert fulfils the same service that church can provide,” Tobias explained in a 2018 chat with The Guardian. “It puts people in an environment that is greater than themselves. [But in a church] you have to be in the favour of a condemning God who could throw you down to Hell. It’s this that makes especially linear religions so dangerous, because they’re always looking up and kicking down. They combine threat with inclusion and salvation. Even [religious architecture] is regarded as unearthly because it’s so imposing. But there is a lot to learn from the church…”
True to that, Papa Emeritus arrived sporting a mitre and chasuble. His title translated roughly from Latin as ‘ex-Pope’, playing on the convention that Papal office is for life, insinuating that he must be undead. (Little did they know that in 2013 Pope Benedict XVI would become the first to resign the position since Gregory XII in 1415.)
Accessories like his version of a Papal Ferula – the crozier topped by Ghost’s Grucifix where normally there would be a crucifix – and the incense-spewing thurible completed the façade. The Nameless Ghouls mimicked privacy and servitude, sporting hooded robes straight out of a medieval monastery. Their music echoed the melody of the hymnal. Live performances became known as rituals. A fervent fanbase were the congregation.
Inverting a cross is one thing, but Ghost flipped a whole belief system. That could be seen as the ultimate blasphemy. But their years-long adherence to the bit betrays an element of admiration.
“Tobias Forge and his collaborators have constructed a remarkably complete inversion of Catholic ritual,” observes Joanna Royle, Doctor of Medieval History from The University Of Glasgow. “But their ‘Satanic’ brand is less brutally provocative or cruelly insidious than what we’ve seen in mainstream metal from bands like Slayer or Cradle Of Filth. There are no ‘Jesus Is A C**t’ T-shirts on their merch table. As much of the Western world grows increasingly secular and organised religion has, in real terms, become rapidly marginalised, it feels like less of a legitimate – or worthy – target for alternative artists’ attack. Ghost’s detailed appropriation of Catholic and Christian symbolism shows at least an appreciation for the beauty, tradition and devotion of the church, even if they condemn its chequered relationship with extravagant materialism and concepts of infallibility.”
Recognising and ramping up the absurdity is pivotal. As if the idea of Satanic bells and smells weren’t enough, there is fuel aplenty in skewering the bewildering hierarchies and absurd bureaucracies within the Vatican. And like a black-painted Father Ted or profane continuation of director Kevin Smith’s Dogma mythos, Ghost populate their vision with a macabre, charismatic and – whisper it – relatably flawed collection of protagonists.
Coinciding with second album Infestissumam, the arrival of Papa Emeritus II established the pattern that each record would be overseen by a new leader, a member of the same bloodline marked with an eerily milky iris in their left eye. With bolder make-up and more advanced prosthetics, he was scarier and sexier than his predecessor, and the first to appear in anything other than full regalia, sporting bare face, sunglasses and a moustache for some press duties. Characterised by his Ghouls in Papaganda releases as “a miserable, wounded, and bitter old man”, he balanced his authoritarian air by emphasising the role of women in his anti-church.
Meliora’s Papa Emeritus III turned out to be a dandyish younger sibling of the first two, prone to shrugging off his vestments mid-set in favour of a far sleeker black suit, making speeches about how much he detests Donald Trump, and espousing the importance of the female orgasm.
On September 30, 2017, the tale truly began to thicken, when Papa III was dragged offstage mid-set by members of background organisation The Clergy in Liseberg. This was the beginning of the band’s first period of sede vacante, prompting the ghastly Papa Nihil to take the stage. An aged version of “the Papa who recorded 1969’s Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic EP”, he embodied dread. “The party is over!” he told the congregation. “The Middle Ages have begun…”
Stepping from the background into the limelight, Sister Imperator took centre stage in a (still-ongoing) series of online videos, revealing that Papa Nihil was the father of all three previous Papas, and that following their demise they would need to look outside the bloodline for the next frontman: “We need someone with youth, stamina and sexual charisma…”
Cardinal Copia – aka Cardi C – brought all those elements, as well as a loveable goofiness that added understated emphasis on the ridiculousness of the spiralling story. Bastard son of Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator (as confirmed in 2024 Ghost movie Rite Here Rite Now) he’s been likened to horror icon Vincent Price and by Tobias himself to “a mix of Dracula and [Pink Panther detective] Jacques Clouseau”. At times guileless and at others compellingly sinister, he changed the game sporting a tasty cassock/biretta combination that came in both black and red variants.
Side characters abound, too. Church handyman Mr. Psaltarian and his wife Marika Psaltarian, biological sister of Sister Imperator, are mysterious background players, having raised the unclaimed Copia as a child. Social media expert Judith was just recently added to the fold. Father Jim DeFroque was introduced in Easter 2023 YouTube special Jesus Talk With Father Jim DeFroque.
Still, like any good hierarchy, the grandest moments are reserved for those at the top of the tree. Surrounded by the The Clergy onstage in Mexico in 2020 on the last date of A Pale Tour Named Death, Copia was transformed into Papa Emeritus IV for the Impera cycle. Following the death of Papa Nihil – who would be sporadically resurrected to perform sax solos – Papa IV embodied Impera’s themes of empires falling, channelling his predecessors but also hinting at untold vulnerability.
After Sister Imperator’s death at Los Angeles’ Kia Forum in 2023, he was promoted again to Frater Imperator: the approachable new leader for The Clergy prone to, er, arguments with ghosts.
Satanic panic has duly followed Ghost’s dark ministry, stoking controversy and zealous intrigue. Recording Infestissumam in Nashville, Tennessee in 2012, for instance, the band struggled to find singers willing to perform choral backing vocals. The stateside release of that same record was delayed when the CD manufacturer refused to print artwork featuring nudity and imagery it cited as ‘blasphemous and sacrilegious’.
Most deliciously, the staff of legendary metal-loving restaurant Kuma’s Corner in Chicago found themselves in hot water in 2013 when they added The Ghost Burger to their menu, complete with a crunchy topping of unconsecrated communion wafers.
Leaning into the pearl-clutching buzz, Ghost have found thrilling new ways to wind people up: confessional booths at festivals for fans to spill their darkest secrets; sexy nuns distributing their version of the body and blood; even pre-teen altar servers in promotional videos complete with their own off-colour corpsepaint.
Beneath the putrefaction there is benevolence, though. In the ultimate inversion of most religious messaging, Ghost preach the need to live for now rather than some imagined hereafter, the value of difference and individuality rather than conformist ideals.
“It’s about an inversion of the societal structures that have historically been used to hurt people who are different,” explains A. Rose Johnson, a PhD candidate at Falmouth University who is exploring the relationship between Ghost and queer members of their fanbase.
“For instance, if gender is a prison, religion is used as a kind of beating stick. Ghost provides a version of the church that those people have been denied: a community populated by like-minded individuals where they are told that they are worthy of being celebrated. It’s Catholic drag! It’s not about just flipping a dichotomy: ‘Satan isn’t bad, he’s good!’ It’s about exploding the binary and making room for in-betweens. That is vital, particularly for trans, gender-nonconforming or non-binary fans. It’s so evident in Cardinal Copia, this doofus who wore a nun’s cornette for Year Zero. That’s literally Catholic drag!”
Tobias has said in interviews at the start of the Skeletá cycle that the never-ending mythos has begun to become a rod for his back. There is only so far it can expand while still being meaningful. As such, the arrival of silver-plated Papa V Perpetua (fraternal twin of Cardinal Copia/Frater Imperator, a forever Pope prepared to lead the way for years) is hardly surprising.
On the first dates of the Skeletour, it was notable how his between-song banter was dialled back compared to predecessors, allowing the massive onstage production and a supporting cast of no fewer than eight Nameless Ghouls – now sharply dressed in tight-fitting black, top hats, habits and optional bat wings – to hog a little more of the limelight. Otherworldly over-the-top as that show is, full of metallic skulls, hellfire and temples being torn down then rebuilt in far less than three days, no part is more important than the enraptured congregation, celebrating eras past with intricate fancy dress and buzzing for a brighter future with pyro in their eyes and adrenaline in their veins.
For all the cadaverous megalomaniacs and shadowy acolytes, no force is stronger than flesh-and-blood worshippers turning out for an iniquitous cause in which they truly believe.
“At the end of the day, one of the biggest misconceptions of Ghost is that it’s just about The Devil,” Tobias told Germany’s Star FM in 2018. “It’s always been about mankind and the living. Even though [we talk] about death, it’s about survival. [There’s a deeper meaning], not necessarily to do with evil sermons out of some old grimoire and summoning The Devil. That’s just symbolism to paint a more interesting picture.
“It’s the salt that makes the dish that little bit tastier…”
This feature originally appeared in the special edition Kerrang! Presents Ghost magazine
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