Ghøstkid is a project born out of a need to do something different, and more personal. Fronted by Sebastian “Sushi” Biesler, formerly of Eskimo Callboy (now Electric Callboy), the project emerged around 2020 after he stepped away from the band to explore a darker, more honest creative space. Where his past work leaned into chaos and fun, Ghøstkid feels more inward-looking, music made to confront uncomfortable feelings rather than escape them.
Blending post-hardcore, metal, industrial textures, and trap-influenced elements, Ghøstkid sit in that space where aggression and melody collide. The songs are heavy, but never just for the sake of it, there’s always something emotional at the core. Lyrically, it’s raw and direct, touching on identity, mental health, and the messier parts of being human.
Live, the project is backed by a tight, commanding lineup including Dennis Vanhöfen on drums, Jan Marco Heinz and Chris Kisseler on guitars, and Stanislaw Czywil on bass. Together, they turn what could feel deeply personal into something shared, music that hits hardest when you’re standing in a room full of strangers feeling the same thing.
Opening for Of Mice & Men at the Electric Ballroom is no easy task, but Ghøstkid walked out like a band who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted to say. As the lights dropped and the first low, industrial tones filled the room, the mood shifted instantly. This wasn’t about hype, it was about atmosphere.
Sushi commanded the stage without overdoing it. His presence was intense but grounded, delivering vocals that moved between harsh screams, distorted effects, and melodic lines that stuck in your head. The band behind him were locked in, every hit and riff landing with purpose. The sound was thick and heavy, rattling through the Ballroom’s floor, but never messy, controlled chaos in the best way.
As the set progressed, the crowd warmed quickly. Heads started nodding, then bodies moving, and soon pockets of movement opened up on the floor. You could feel people being pulled in, not just reacting to the heaviness, but connecting with the emotion behind it.
Between songs, Sushi spoke briefly and honestly to the crowd, thanking them and acknowledging the moment. There was no distance, no frontman persona, just someone sharing the weight of the music with the room. That openness gave the set a real sense of sincerity, especially for a support slot where it’s easy to feel like background noise. Ghøstkid were anything but.
By the end of their time on stage, they’d clearly won over a lot of new faces. People leaned over barriers to get a better look, others pulled out phones to check names and tracks. That’s the mark of a strong support set, leaving the room changed, even if only slightly.
Ghøstkid may still be a relatively young project, but live, it feels fully formed. Dark, heavy, and emotionally honest, the band brought a different kind of intensity to the Electric Ballroom, one that lingered even after they’d left the stage.
Supporting a band with the history of Of Mice & Men, Ghøstkid didn’t try to compete or overshadow. Instead, they carved out their own space, and made sure people noticed.
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Broken Static Magazine 
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