Rodentia Magazine:

Few albums take me by such a complete surprise as the debut by Phantom of the Black Hills’ “Ghosts”.  From the first sounds of a fiddle decompose into a thuddingly dreadful banjo pluck on “Confessions of a Barn Burner” we know that there is an evil journey ahead of us.

Bluegrass banjo plucking behind the aggressive, nearly punk vocals dominate the album.  The quality of the balance between the zero-twang vocals, top notch banjo playing, and Gun Club style punk meets country percussion cannot be understated.  A misstep in any of these areas could have pushed the sound into one genre or another, but the album perfectly straddles the border between punk and country. 

Sampling of women’s warnings, sermon’s, and what is presumed to be movie or radio blurbs are found throughout and are yet another risky addition that proved to be done perfectly.  The samples add a mystique and vintage atmosphere to the album that would be lacking without.  This is pushed to the limit on “They Shoot Horses, Don’t They”; a four minute galloping sound collage that Fatboy Slim and Satan would have made in the 1800’s. 

“Ghosts” manages to avoid the biggest pitfall of albums in the Gothic Americana genre: pretentiousness.  All too often, even established artists push the nostalgic or demonic angle too hard and it comes off as forced and fake.

“Ghosts” is by far not only one of the best albums of 2009, but is definitely Required Rodentia.

Jon Steffens - WolvesHollow:

What do you get when you cross the rougher side of Hank Williams III with Samhain's classic debut"Initium"? You get "Ghosts", the first album from the black as pitch two-man cowpunk nightmare known as Phantom Of The Black Hills. Consisting of members the Phantom and Popeye, POTBH is all venom, misery, blood and dust. A devil's concoction of country music instrumentation (banjo, steel guitar and fiddle) and punk rock rage and song structures, "Ghosts" is one of the most ambitious and original records I've heard in some time, coming across like the bizarre lost soundtrack to the film There Will Be Blood, and it succeeds on every level. If Glenn Danzig and Al Jourgensen stayed up all night listening to old Porter Wagoner and Hank Sr. records and drinking homemade corn liquor, then decided to make an album together, it still wouldn't come close to the bleak, inventive darkness of this eleven-track hatework. Can't recommend it enough.