Not sure where to post this or if it has already been posted (don't think it has).
Was at my local indy store today and picked up the latest edition of Goldmine Magazine (July 17, 2009) with Freddie Mercury on the cover. Goldmine is a good little magazine that is geared toward the vinyl collector market. The following is their review. fwiw, they also gave great reviews to 'Painkiller' and 'Nightjar'. BTW, you might recognize the author.
The Church
Untitled #23
Unorthodox/MGM/Second Motion Records
Grade: 5 stars
Way back in 1988, when Australian band The Church jockeyed for pole position alongside other "modern rock" acts such as Echo & the Bunnymen, Love and Rockets,
The Cure and R.E.M., could anyone have imagined that 21 years later it would be the antipodean quartet, unique among these, who would still be making interesting and
relevant music?
Hell, by the close of the 80's The Church already seemed on the verge of breaking up. Each of the three principal songwriters- Steve Kilbey, Marty Willson-Piper and
Peter Koppes- appeared more focused on furthering his own eccentric solo career than the continued health of the collective entity, even as The Church's hit single "Under
The Milky Way" was giving the band it's first- and, as it turned out, only -taste of real international success.
Yet the Church has endured all this time, continuing to chip away, year after year, at the same block of granite until now, in 2009, its Statue Of David has finally emerged
in the form of the unassumingly named album Untitled #23. It says something about this group's unwavering faith in its own potential that it took 29 years and 23 albums to
birth its masterpiece. All the while, the relationships between the principals have remained volatile (and the introduction of drummer Tim Powles in 1994 added one more
unbendable will to the mix), yet the musical chemistry has grown so symbiotic that each member can play all of the others' instruments and frequently does so. Indeed, to see
The Church live these days is to witness two hours of musical chairs, each new configuration opening up the songs in subtle but crucial ways.
The freedom that comes from this abondonment of traditional band roles is evident on this album: apart from Steve Kilbey's baritone voice and an acoustic 12-string guitar
solo on "Pangaea" that bears the fingerprints of Marty Willson-Piper, it is impossible to discern who is playing what. One thing is clear: these four very strong personalities have
checked their egos at the door and, like the true mystics they always were, have prostrated themselves at the feet of the muse, asking that she flow through their imperfect
vessel one more time. The result is a potent psychedelic elixir meant to be consumed in one draught.
Here is a band simultaneously comfortable with its history and eager to strike out into new terrain. For every "Deadman's Hand"- which, with its jangly Rickenbackers and
whispered vocals tips its hat playfully both the The Church's "Grind" and Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper"- there is a "Space Savior": three chords played with
increasing urgency alongside some uncharacteristically emotional singing from Kilbey. The climaz of the song finds the group bashing away like a garage band while Kilbey
yelps, "And I gotta get up! And I gotta get on! And I gotta get off! And I can't let it go." What's it all about? Drugs? Love? Waking up in the morning? Why not all three?
Kilbey's lyrics are as inscrutable as ever; he is still this would-be scholar of classics and ancient history, singing for his honorary degree. Yet the feferences to Pangaea and
the minotaur with many lovely here-and-now snapshots such as this beauty from "On Angel Street":
You should change the message on your
machine
So sad, so strange, baby, to hear my name
Makes me cry when tou say we're not at
home
And the line it just goes dead
And the trail it just goes cold
I guess that story's told anyway
A fitting phrase. The stories on this album have been told. But never so well. And for the first time in a long time, we have new chapters. If you lost interest in The Church
ages ago, this is where you reconnect. And if you've never heard them, this is the place to start. Either way, you are in for a treat.
Robert Dean Lurie
Was at my local indy store today and picked up the latest edition of Goldmine Magazine (July 17, 2009) with Freddie Mercury on the cover. Goldmine is a good little magazine that is geared toward the vinyl collector market. The following is their review. fwiw, they also gave great reviews to 'Painkiller' and 'Nightjar'. BTW, you might recognize the author.
The Church
Untitled #23
Unorthodox/MGM/Second Motion Records
Grade: 5 stars
Way back in 1988, when Australian band The Church jockeyed for pole position alongside other "modern rock" acts such as Echo & the Bunnymen, Love and Rockets,
The Cure and R.E.M., could anyone have imagined that 21 years later it would be the antipodean quartet, unique among these, who would still be making interesting and
relevant music?
Hell, by the close of the 80's The Church already seemed on the verge of breaking up. Each of the three principal songwriters- Steve Kilbey, Marty Willson-Piper and
Peter Koppes- appeared more focused on furthering his own eccentric solo career than the continued health of the collective entity, even as The Church's hit single "Under
The Milky Way" was giving the band it's first- and, as it turned out, only -taste of real international success.
Yet the Church has endured all this time, continuing to chip away, year after year, at the same block of granite until now, in 2009, its Statue Of David has finally emerged
in the form of the unassumingly named album Untitled #23. It says something about this group's unwavering faith in its own potential that it took 29 years and 23 albums to
birth its masterpiece. All the while, the relationships between the principals have remained volatile (and the introduction of drummer Tim Powles in 1994 added one more
unbendable will to the mix), yet the musical chemistry has grown so symbiotic that each member can play all of the others' instruments and frequently does so. Indeed, to see
The Church live these days is to witness two hours of musical chairs, each new configuration opening up the songs in subtle but crucial ways.
The freedom that comes from this abondonment of traditional band roles is evident on this album: apart from Steve Kilbey's baritone voice and an acoustic 12-string guitar
solo on "Pangaea" that bears the fingerprints of Marty Willson-Piper, it is impossible to discern who is playing what. One thing is clear: these four very strong personalities have
checked their egos at the door and, like the true mystics they always were, have prostrated themselves at the feet of the muse, asking that she flow through their imperfect
vessel one more time. The result is a potent psychedelic elixir meant to be consumed in one draught.
Here is a band simultaneously comfortable with its history and eager to strike out into new terrain. For every "Deadman's Hand"- which, with its jangly Rickenbackers and
whispered vocals tips its hat playfully both the The Church's "Grind" and Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear The Reaper"- there is a "Space Savior": three chords played with
increasing urgency alongside some uncharacteristically emotional singing from Kilbey. The climaz of the song finds the group bashing away like a garage band while Kilbey
yelps, "And I gotta get up! And I gotta get on! And I gotta get off! And I can't let it go." What's it all about? Drugs? Love? Waking up in the morning? Why not all three?
Kilbey's lyrics are as inscrutable as ever; he is still this would-be scholar of classics and ancient history, singing for his honorary degree. Yet the feferences to Pangaea and
the minotaur with many lovely here-and-now snapshots such as this beauty from "On Angel Street":
You should change the message on your
machine
So sad, so strange, baby, to hear my name
Makes me cry when tou say we're not at
home
And the line it just goes dead
And the trail it just goes cold
I guess that story's told anyway
A fitting phrase. The stories on this album have been told. But never so well. And for the first time in a long time, we have new chapters. If you lost interest in The Church
ages ago, this is where you reconnect. And if you've never heard them, this is the place to start. Either way, you are in for a treat.
Robert Dean Lurie
