Thrill House

The Ghost Car Collective are so stupidly on our wavelength it’s almost as if the shadowy individuals behind the Ghost Car name sent out tiny robotic beetles to crawl in through our ears one night whilst we slept in order to probe and obtain as much information out of our fried brains as possible. Based in New Jersey where they must be pumping some kind of hallucinogenic pink sludge into the water considering all the amazing beta-max disco that’s been emerging from there of late, I like to imagine the Ghost Car collective live blissfully trapped in a house where all the walls are constructed out of TV screens transmitting a never ending stream of 80s exotica that makes our childhoods look some sort of acid washed, NES pixelated fantasia of colourfully creepy McDonalds playgrounds infiltrated by grimacing cybernetic soldiers with fistfuls of human heads motivated only by an insatiable urge for ultra violence, and where at night time lady samurai’s decked out in Grace Jones attire with Mattel swords surgically grafted to the stumps where their hands used to be perform deadly ballet routines in neon drenched Tokyo ballrooms to the strains of a Sakamoto hybrid of hi-NRG, whilst great romance stories unfold on Malibu beaches saturated in the pastel glow of an LA sunset only to transform into skin melting body horror epics that persist in our minds as fever dreams.

SaKura NighT

The need for speed.
Obsession with racing.
Defying gravity and death for the ultimate road rush.
SaKura NighT will put you in your seats.
Strap yourself in for a heart pounding supercharged ride!

That’s what it would say on the poster. All the Ghost Car artists come to us not as living, breathing individuals with names, faces or fingerprints, but as the various niche film genres we obsessed over as children who felt like our heads were about to spin off of our shoulders every time we entered the local video rental store, equal parts mesmerized and nauseated by the high trash imagery that adorned every case. Perfectly evoking the campy ominous “sun setting over Miami” atmospherics of Jan Hammer, on other tracks Sakura Night create dark, prowler disco that gives the Italians Do It Better sound something of a zombified Jane Fonda hi-NRG workout. Sky Ferreira though pulsates with pure chugging threat that just begs you to close your eyes and try and ignore that metal claw hanging off the boot of your speeding car.

SaKura NighT – Sky Ferreira

Ghost Driver

A terrifying tale of a kid that was tricked by the Devil, The Devil, disguising himself as a car salesmen, fools Jason into a contract that forces him to become a demon ghost killing machine.

So fasten your seat belts for this terrifying thrill ride, where a murderous car that runs on human blood, wreaks havoc, by viciously mowing down innocent victims. You will not want to stop for the next red light.

Obviously if Ghost Driver had been an actual film in the 80s it would have been Christine, the heart warming tale of one boy and the car that falls in love with him; cue much bloodshed. Or maybe even Maximum Overdrive, Stephen King’s classic of dumb that involves a bunch of yokels being picked off one by one in a gas station by trucks with green goblin faces that possess murderous minds of their own. Road Kill is sinister, cold eyed italo twisted to fit into a plastic Wes Craven nightmare, all beautifully cheap synthesizers and hysterical, malfunctioning machines that will make you wish you had a killer car to go cruising in.

Ghost Driver – Road Kill