I didn’t know I needed an album about the end of the world that made me smile, but Ghost Palace did exactly that. I put it on late at night, half-expecting something clever and bleak, and instead found myself grinning at the speakers, nodding along, feeling oddly comforted. This is The Burning Hell at their best: staring straight into collapse while cracking jokes and writing melodies that keep moving forward.

The record feels like it was made by people who understand that when things are falling apart, you either shut down or start paying closer attention. Ghost Palace chooses the second option. Mathias Kom’s songs wander through famous cemeteries, abandoned resorts, moon-based radio stations, and imagined futures that feel half sci-fi, half small-town music hall. It’s funny, sure — but it’s also affectionate. These songs aren’t mocking the ruins; they’re documenting them.

Musically, the album is gloriously untidy. Indie-folk rubs elbows with garage rock, pop melodies sneak into country rhythms, and new wave jitters bubble up where you don’t expect them. Ariel Sharratt’s violin, drums, and backing vocals give everything a hand-made warmth, like a band playing shoulder-to-shoulder because there’s no room left. You hear the collaboration in every corner — the sense that these songs were built by people enjoying the act of making them together.