"I feel your presence amongst us
You cannot hide in the darkness
Can you hear the rumble that's calling?"
-- Ghost, "Cirice"
As we stood on the platform of the Seattle Monorail, we quickly noticed that some of our fellow passengers were on a pilgrimage. They could be identified by the makeup covering their faces or religious-themed garb, though not in a form that would be accepted in church. We were in the midst of the true believers as we headed toward Seattle's Climate Pledge Arena.
Nothing can be worse for a musician than falling into a rut. It had been more than a decade since a new band had broken into heavy rotation in my playlist. With AI feeding me only what it thinks I want, my musical boundaries were shrinking. I needed something new.
In that hunt, I had read about a band called Ghost and had tried listening to their music, but it had not grabbed my attention. Their sound was heavily processed, far from the raw nature of many of the bands I appreciate the most.
Knowing of their reputation for putting on an engaging live show, I was willing to give Ghost another chance. Hoping that seeing them in person would add more dimension to their music, I purchased tickets for the Skeletour World Tour.
The costumes of my fellow passengers on the Monorail echoed the style of Tobias Forge, the band's lead singer and only officially named member. Currently performing under the moniker Papa V Perpetua, Forge has performed under a series of stage names with various pseudo"'religious themes.
As the crowd filtered into the arena for this rock version of a Sunday night worship service, they were greeted, appropriately, by church"'like music. We passed the time people-watching, taking in the interesting cross-section of society. From families with young children to the two furries sitting a couple of rows in front of us, it was clear that the band had a wide-ranging fan base.
With no opening act, the band hit the stage promptly at 8:00. Or at least I think it did. Our phones were sealed in pouches as we entered the arena. Cell phone etiquette has declined so much in recent years that it was nice to attend a concert where people were watching it directly with their eyes instead of through a screen, but it was a weird feeling to lose access to my phone. There was no ability to check for messages or social media posts. I could not document the quality time I was spending with my family. What if there was breaking news?
As the first few songs passed by, I could not shake the feeling that this was the musical version of fast food; it filled the room, but did not reach my soul. The processed sound of the band's recordings was recreated flawlessly, perhaps making them sound too perfect.
As a drummer, my eyes locked on the "Nameless Ghoul" at center stage. He attacked his kit with ferocity, but the cymbals barely cut through the mix. I saw the impact, but I could not feel it.
But as I scanned the crowd, it became clear that my experience was the exception, not the rule. The music may not have pierced my soul, but for many, the night was a religious experience. The crowd was experiencing the band on stage in the same way I experience a thrash concert. Like Metallica, Ghost speaks to outcasts, just a different set.
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