Rating: 8.2/10 – Like ABBA rose from the dead in black velvet and summoned Satan with a disco ball.
There are certain songs that arrive wearing a cape — uninvited, unashamed, and entirely too confident. Square Hammerdoesn’t ask for permission. It crashes through the cathedral window, eyeliner intact, demanding allegiance before the devil and possibly a merch table.
Right from the jump, Ghost hits you with a riff that feels suspiciously like Blue Öyster Cult performing in a haunted house. It’s slick, dramatic, and suspiciously catchy — like a recruitment ad for a cult that also hosts karaoke on Tuesdays.
“Are you on the square? Are you on the level?”
Congratulations. You’ve just been initiated into the first Masonic temple with pyrotechnics and backup dancers. The chorus slaps hard enough to sober up Ozzy Osbourne. It’s cult rock — but with choreography.
The lyrics aren’t subtle. In fact, they read like Edgar Allen Poe ghostwrote a pamphlet for Hot Topic.
“Hammering the nails / Into a sacred coffin”
Okay. Relax. We get it. You’ve got candles and an old book. Are we dancing or burying the pope?
The vocals, though? Chef’s kiss on a bloodstained chalice. Forge sounds like he’s seducing a priest and cursing a lover in the same breath. It’s theatrical without slipping into parody — barely. He knows exactly how ridiculous this is and sings it like it’s divine scripture anyway.
Production-wise, it’s so crisp it could double as a weapon. Every snare crack feels ritualistic. Every guitar stab is just restrained enough to let the hook carry the ritual. And the keys? Oh yes. Evil church organ meets Saturday morning cartoon intro — and somehow it works.
What Square Hammer pretends to be is Satanic pageantry. What it really is? A perfectly engineered hard-rock earworm disguised as ceremony. It’s Ghost at their most accessible, which means it’s also Ghost at their most fun — just dangerous enough to scare your aunt, just catchy enough to convert her.
It’s not deep. It doesn’t have to be. That’s not the point.
This is camp wrapped in conviction — a goth prom anthem for people who iron their robes and schedule their damnation.
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