There’s something deliciously disorienting about Ghost Party, the latest darkwave reverie from Kansas City’s SLEEPNOWQUEEN. It doesn’t just nod to the 1980s; it resurrects them, dusted in neon haze and irony, and invites you to waltz with the ghosts that never quite left the disco.
From the opening shimmer of guitar, you can feel the song grin: sly, knowing, a little wicked. Then the beat hits, tight and irresistible, like a pulse beneath flickering strobe lights. Vocals echo through the mix, their vintage reverb carrying a kind of playful detachment, as if sung through a haunted radio left on since 1986. There’s humor in the gloom, rhythm in the eeriness; a rare combination that makes Ghost Party feel both cinematic and strangely fun and inviting.
What’s striking is how alive it all feels. Recorded, mixed, and mastered at Ryan’s Studio, a small underground space filled more with spirit than spectacle, the track glows with sincerity. You sense that this is more than just retro romanticism. It’s a love letter to the thrill of music that made people feel, before irony became currency. SLEEPNOWQUEEN channels the likes of Robert Smith not through imitation, but through emotional memory, crafting soundscapes that ache and flirt at once.
Then comes that chorus: wild, infectious, a little absurd. Halfway between a haunted dancefloor and a midnight confession, a sly “goblin-synth” slips in, turning nostalgia into theater. You can almost picture a late-night karaoke bar in some spectral city: everyone in costume, laughing, swaying, alive in the half-light.
Fun, eerie, and self-aware in the best way, SLEEPNOWQUEEN’s Ghost Party doesn’t just throw you a party, it actually haunts you with the memory of one!
