I am too lazy to find the links but from their news page:
The Age, Melbourne April 2009
Untitled #23 is the new album by the church. It's a haunting, dark, thrilling, ecstatic, melodic psychedelic journey in ten unforgettable pieces.
To put it another way, Untitled #23 is the latest instalment in one of the longest, richest unbroken streams of creative endeavour the rock'n'roll era has ever witnessed.

Steve Kilbey, Peter Koppes and Marty Willson-Piper founded the church in Sydney, Australia, in 1980. Their public life as accidental hit makers is on the record: Under the Milky Way galvanised the world 20 years ago, and again in 2001 when it opened the smash cult film, Donnie Darko.

Various hits collections attest to a distant era of similarly strange and subversive pop chart victories: The Unguarded Moment, Almost With You, When You Were Mine, It's No Reason, Reptile, Tantalised, Metropolis… all continue to appear, sporadically and often transformed, in the live shows that remain their life blood.

But the church has always been in a parallel orbit to the pop world, a self-generating and utterly engaging art-rock trip that is far easier to experience than to describe - even by their passionate legions of fans around the world.

Since the arrival of drummer Tim Powles some 15 albums ago, the quartet has hit on a peerless creative dynamic of amazingly rich and prolific dimensions, one that seeks no validation beyond the constantly evolving existence that now yields Untitled #23.

"It's almost like the church simply plug in at will and stream this sparkling electric poetry from some guitar-shaped hole in the universe . . . Cobalt Blue begins the trip with disorientation . . . only to be sewn together near the end with an exquisite guitar dialogue. Pangaea, Happenstance and Operetta fall into the more pleasing structures of yore: a 12-stringed flurry here, an airborne choral hook there, an elegant afterthought of wind, brass or keys . . . and tunes lovely enough to hum. On Angel Street and Sunken Sun (are) gossamer weaves of dream narrative and telepathic restraint that scale the peaks of their most elegant work…" - MICHAEL DWYER

Sunday Herald Sun 12/4/09 - 4/5 stars

THERE'S no second guessing the Church. Their first studio album in four years has no real title - though the''23'' probably refers to its numerical place in their catalogue-and is released simultaneously with two EPs and another album described as ''a long-playing ambient-literary hybrid in collaboration with American sci-fi writer Jeff VanderMeer''. The band that has previously released songs titled Chromium, Disillusionist and
Real Toggle Action delves into its presumably well-thumbed thesaurus for its new set list that includes Happenstance, Operetta and Pangaea. Fabulous! Literary pretensions? Not a bit of it: The Church seem to inhabit their own world of introspection, from which emerge their brooding rainy-day songs that somehow combine lushness with sparseness, the lyrics often asking more questions than they answer. Commercial success, let it be noted, is not
one of this band's driving forces. When guitarist Marty Willson-Piper noted in a 2004 Sunday Herald Sun interview that ''it's better not to be successful on your own terms than to be successful on someone else's terms'', bandmate Steve Kilbey shot back, ''And we're very unsuccessful on our own terms''. Yet this is the album that ought to be bring
old fans back. Building on the strengths of their previous album of original material, 2005's Uninvited Like the Clouds, Untitled #23 is powerful and absorbing, free of past tendencies to let the songs hang on mood rather than substance.
There is no shortage of variety either: Cobalt Blue is a gentle opener, one of many tender beauties, Deadman's Hand is a slowburner, while the powerful Space Saviour is an explosive piece of pent-up energy riding on some heavy percussion. Operetta is a majestic finale for the album, a comedown after the drama and emotion before it.
The tragic Angel Street, in contrast, is superb minimalism, almost a spoken-word piece in which Kilbey delivers heart-rending lines of emptiness, pleading: ''You should change the message on your machine, So sad, so strange to hear my name, Makes me cry when you say we're not at home, And the line goes dead and the trail goes cold.''
Happenstance drips with romanticism, its lyrics echoing with Old Testament poetry of swelling fruits and snow-fed rivers. Everything is played out in glorious slow motion, many of the songs unwinding over five or six minutes.
It's a weird paradox from a band that has so strongly accepted their lack of connection
with popular taste: in their efforts to be one of Australia's most understated bands, discarding even the conventions of album names, they may have come up with one of their best efforts yet.
GRAEME HAMMOND
DOWNLOAD: Space Saviour
FILE BETWEEN: Mazzy Star, REM.

AUSTRALIANA 27/3/09 3 ½ stars

Not many bands survive three decades. And The Church's 23rd album finds them in fine form sounding focused and fresh. Steve Kilbey recently said "I write songs that I may not understand for years" . And that sums up the church's dreamy psychedelia. This may not find them a new audience (though Space Saviour and Pangaea sound both cosmic and commercial) but if it was by a new band, they'd be the next big thing. As it is it'll be an instant fave for long-time church fans. Its time they were inducted into the ARIA Hall of Fame. JEFF JENKINS


TIME OFF - Brisbane Street Press

THE CHURCH
Untitled #23
(Unorthodox/MGM) - April 2009

The dreamy, drifty pop world that is The Church is so instantly recognisable that another new album isn't so much anything new - simply more inspiring beauty for you to submerse yourself into and to add to the canon of tunes that has made up the band's 20-plus year career.
Drawing almost entirely on their strengths as songwriters and musicians, the 10 songs here are unreservedly low-key. Tracks such as 'Pangaea', 'Happenstance' and 'Sunken Sun' all roll in like the tide, filled with formless guitar lines and solos that break onto the shore and recede back within the songs. The album is scattered with small bristling crescendos such as 'Space Saviour', but even these songs are simply the brief high tides while the music continues to lap, swirl and follow familiar patterns.

The one essential ingredient that is vital for a great Church album is romanticism and in that respect Kilbey and Willson-Piper have excelled here. Take 'On Angel Street' and 'Anchorage', possibly the album's highlights - in no way clear in their narrative or their intentions, but potent in their twilight moods, their sublime instrumentation, their phrasing and their unwillingness to give up secrets you long to hear - it is these songs alone that make Untitled #23 every bit worth diving into.

And with many songs unfurling out beyond five and six minutes, it's wonderful to hear The Church, unconcerned with pop nuggets, willing to allow the music to breathe and yield these refined and memorable pearls of seductive melody. HHHH Richard Alverez