Ghost Bath Rose Thorn Necklace Review
Ghost Bath
Rose Thorn Necklace
Nuclear Blast Records
2025
I’ve had “Rose Thorn Necklace” festering in my inbox for months now staring me down like some stray that I couldn’t bring myself to shoot. I tried to pass it off to the rest of the crew, but no one bit.
Normally, that’s the kill shot. Hit delete and move on. But this album, it sunk in. Not like a sweet melody or a catchy hook, but like teeth. This isn’t a guilty pleasure, there’s no guilt in indulgence. It’s a last-call lust-fest at a dive bar when all the pretty has been peeled away. The lights are harsh, the drinks are cheap, and there’s someone in the corner with enough demons to match yours. You’re not falling in love. You’re feeding the need. That’s this album. That’s “Rose Thorn Necklace”.
I had no clue who Ghost Bath was before this. I didn’t dig into their history, didn’t Google their lore. I still don’t care. Whatever chaos or confusion follows them is just extra seasoning on the meat. I’m not here for a background check; I’m here for the body.
This record bleeds Black Metal, sure, but it's veined with Post-Metal shimmer, Shoegaze haze, and the aching, mascara-smeared kiss of atmospheric Pop. It floats and fucks in equal measure. There’s an undeniable depressive current running through it, deliberate and seductive. You’re not supposed to feel good. You’re supposed to feel something, and it ain’t good.
Production-wise, it’s pristine. Too clean for the gutter and too dirty for the symphony hall but stuck somewhere between agony and ecstasy. It’s like hearing Beethoven in a strip club, majestic, inappropriate and unforgettable. You might not like it right away, but it’ll crawl under your skin and whisper things your better self shouldn’t hear.
And let’s talk about Mike Heller. Yeah, that Mike Heller, drumming god, human wrecking ball. He’s here, and his touch is all over this beast. The percussion doesn’t just guide the songs; it whips them, punishes them, brings them to the edge before letting go. But make no mistake, this album doesn’t bludgeon the ears. It targets the heart and soul - the soft parts...
This isn’t an album you put on while doing dishes. It’s the soundtrack to your first overdose, your last heartbreak, or that night you woke up with claw marks down your spine and no memory of how they got there.
Standouts: “Rose Thorn Necklace” (a seduction in slow motion), “Dandelion Tea” (fragile and fucked up in all the right ways), and “Throat Cancer” (the sonic equivalent of watching your ex walk into the bar with someone hotter, knowing you’ll still go home with them).