While our intrepid editor in chief here at The In-Crowd was valiantly covering Lollapalooza this year, a secondary event also caught our eye that was worth reporting on. J. M. Knoell, our photo editor, was on the scene in Rosemont on August 1, but uncharacteristically lacking in photographs to publish.

Ghost is a band that needs little in the way of introduction if you are already in the right circles. Their combination of dark metal influences, spiritual overtones, theatricality, and embrace of the camp elements in alternative scenes sets them apart from any artist one might call a contemporary. Perhaps my favorite description of Ghost’s sound is “Scooby-Doo Metal“, but that hardly does the act justice. I like to think of them as what happens if Judas Priest ate REM. Often controversial, probably blasphemous, Ghost does their show in the way the moms of the Satanic Panic would be vaporized by. They do not perform songs, they perform rituals. 

Dramatic language aside, Ghost is a unique act worth experiencing. Allstate Arena was already surrounded by a sea of cars when we arrived, managed by a robust and well-seasoned group of staff. This was very necessary, as the venue pushed against its occupant capacity and cars were creatively cordoned off into improvised subdivisions in the wider areas of the lot. Once inside the sports stadium, however, we were greeted by the usual security and the unusual measure placed for this show: all phones were to be placed in a tamper-proof security bag that could only be opened by venue staff wielding industrial magnets. No videos, photos, or recordings could be taken. 

Hurrying to our seats, the opening of “Peacefield” began to be played from behind a gigantic black curtain. White light spilled out from within, beckoning in the audience until, with a mighty crack of pyrotechnics, the curtain fell. The revealed stage had a raised semicircle of platforms, on which the drummer, keyboards, and backing vocalists were stationed, as well as several strategically placed special effects boxes. The main concourse would be wandered and surveyed like predators by the guitarists and front man, the way He intended. 

The Skeletour is a world tour that is in support of Ghost’s most recent album, Skeletá, and introduces front man Tobias Forge’s most recent persona, Papa V Perpetua, who is styled in purple and black papal robes, complete with silver scapulae and a spinal column that concludes in a pointed tail, and corpse paint. While the characterization of this imposing figure still appears to be in flux, the performing of several hits were heightened by Ghost’s unwavering dedication to stage craft. The stage was dominated by a lighting rig above the performers heads that formed the shape of an upside down Catholic cross that would change elevation and color as scenes called. “Call Me Little Sunshine” featured Perpetua suspended by wire behind the drum kit in an impossibly long robe while the displays showed a kaleidoscopic montage of the Papa’s face. 

After a scene change marked by another pop of pyrotechnics and a blackout, the next song, “The Future Is A Foreign Land” was introduced by Forge with a message of hope, acknowledging that outside the walls of this spell, the world is going through tumultuous times. Being reminded of the world outside reminded me that everybody’s phone is locked up, which caused me to look over the crowd and it struck me for the first time that no one was recording this. This moment that everybody is connected by is being done in a true darkness, the likes of which has not been seen since the wide adoption of cellphones at the beginning of the new millennium. When the stage goes dark next, so does the rest of the venue, with the occasional light up bracelet, which seems to be mimicking the advent of the K-pop light stick provided by the merchandise table, piercing the inky void. To see a stadium with not a single cell phone light go completely dark like this is an experience I can only describe as holy. Real reverence is achieved for the artists because no one is distracted by a little magic rectangle. I honestly wish more bands and artists would do this. 

The stage craft and projections continued to be as lavish throughout the performance, at one point building stained glass windows to the tune of “He Is,” but nothing could have prepared me for the transition from the angelic and praising to the intentional tonal whiplash of projecting the fiery lakes of Hell during “Rats”. The aforementioned special effects boxes spewed jets of yellow flame to intensify the visuals that were so hot it could be felt on the second-story balcony where I was sitting. I can only imagine how that must feel on stage in the full-body costumes of the Unnamed Ghouls, whether they were the more minimalist body stocking of the backup vocalists or the more enclosed faux-suits of the guitarists. No matter what, though, a spectacle was made. 

Nearing the end, the performance of “Mummy Dust” saw confetti cannons shot off, distributing personalized $666 dollar bills with Tobias Forge’s face on them, which quickly became cherished souvenirs for concert goers in the closest pits. As the show began to wind down towards its encores, the front man went on extended speeches about the fine work done by the stage crew and venue staff, as well they should be thanked. This show, as described by one person I talked to, is not a concert, it is a stage play with music as its backbone, and it lives or dies by its crew.

It was also pointed out that one of the guitarists had injured his foot and had performed the whole show in a medical boot after “kicking too many asses.” Descriptions rarely come so perfectly formed, so I will conclude that this show kicked so much ass, injuries to the kicker were a serious possibility. 

Tickets are still available for the remaining North American stops in The Skeletour, but it will come to an end on September 25th.