This chapel of ritual
Smells of dead human sacrifices
From the altar bed
On this night of ritual
Invoking our master
To procreate the unholy bastard…

I mean, it’s Ghost. And Halloween. Le duh.

And Ritual lies somewhere between a satanic mass, a Blue Öyster Cult deep track, and an Off-Broadway production of The Omen.

Hearkening back to their 2010 debut Opus Eponymous, Ritual plays like the kind of song some self-absorbed youth-group chaperone warned you about. Its guitars ring like cathedral bells, the rhythm sways in a ceremonial fashion, and the Anti-Pope’s vocals glide with the quiet serenity of a priest who knows you’re, most likely, entirely doomed.

And that’s… OK.

I mean, this is a joyous celebration of Satan. No anger. No screaming. No hateful violence. This song is gentle and almost seductive in its disarming inclusivity. The melody is so pretty you almost miss the line about human sacrifice.

You’ll actually wonder when, exactly, you started harmonizing along to hymns to the Devil.

But I mean, that’s Ghost’s secret sauce, ain’t it? Amalgamating classic rock grandeur and Catholic liturgy, stirring it in a cauldron with a gold-leaf crucifix, Ritual straddles that boundary where sacred and profane kind of aligned.

With those tight exquisite riffs, menacingly subtle organ work, and Papa Emeritus droning, mesmerizing vocals, Ritual retains an air of BOC-styled early 80s arena rock. Hearkening back to an untouchable era of hard rock/heavy metal, the song evokes the impeccable production of the analog/digital-crossover era.

Ritual belongs on any self-respecting Halloween playlist. It’s got atmosphere, melody, and just the right mix of menace and groove. It’s the sound of walking into a candle-lit crypt and realizing the undead throw a better party than the living.

Play it loud. Light a candle. Offer a goat-shaped chocolate to the infernal one.

“Our father, who art in hell
Unhallowed be thy name
Cursed be the sons and daughters
Of thine Nemesis
Whom are to blame
Thy kingdom come
Nema”