The Haunting of Pale Green Ghosts5 Out Of 5 Stars
Blessed with a coffee-cream baritone and cursed by crashing relationships, "Pale Green Ghosts" finds John Grant striding an emotional chasm that keeps one foot on acerbic sarcasm and the other on a wit that turns both inward and outward. You're unlikely to hear any album more self confessional in this year. I've been listening for a couple of months and just can't shake the way Grant delivers a blow by blow account of both his break-up and the tiniest touch of optimism by the album's end.
And what an ending "Pale Green Ghosts" comes with. "Glaciers" comes to a conclusion that even with the slow motion pain driving through his life, in the aftermath of the agony will come "beautiful landscapes" and "precious metals." All of which follows recriminations about hypocrisy and theocracy. Or there's the wicked sense of humor of "GMF" (aka Greaest Mother Youknowwhat)
"Half of the time I think I'm in some movie.
I play the underdog of course.
I wonder who they'll get to play me.
Maybe they could dig up Richard Burton's corpse."
Add that the harmony is provided by perennial emotional depth charge Sinead O'Connor (who provides harmonies on three other songs) and it just adds to the bitter joke. There's also the deft confession of his HIV+ status on "Ernest Borgnine" where he wishes that 'Ernie' would call him up and offer him some life advice.
The album is carried by minimalist beats and synthed out production that accents Grant's whiplash lyricism, mainly directed at the ex in what must have been one of the all-time worst breakups in history. "You got a black belt in BS" he accuses over what could almost be a danceable single if it weren't so wickedly cruel and absurdly funny. "Pale Green Ghosts" may depend on its laptop underpinnings, but the man is not background music. It demands that you step into a place like "I Hate This Town" where everyone, including you, get to share his view of the world. Trust me, when the music is this good, you'll want to.
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