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| Name: | fip |
| Review Source (if not you): | Jeff Elbel, The Big Takeover |
| Review or Comments: | Untitled #23 is an appropriately vague title for an impressionistic work that merits close attention, as Australian dreampop quartet The Church haven't made a poor record in ages. As pulsing synthesizer suggests the unsettling intrusion of a distant car alarm, "On Angel Street" undulates like a half-remembered dream of Pink Floyd's "Welcome to the Machine." Steve Kilbey's audio-film noir plays about the emotionally raw edges of an unraveling relationship. "Deadman's Hand" is a foreboding portrait of oppression, reclaiming the sinister spookiness of 1992's overlooked Priest=Aura. Kilbey's monotone vocal hypnotizes as guitars intertwine with serpentine melodies and jagged licks, while Tim Powles‚ stately drumming underpins "Happenstance," which glints and shimmers like calm ocean wavelets, and Peter Koppes‚ whale-call guitar glides heavenly beneath the surface. Ah. |
| Name: | Fip |
| Review Source (if not you): | Matt Coyte, Editor In Chief, Rolling Stone Australia (June, 2009) |
| Review or Comments: | REVERED ROCKERS
Legendary Oz band The Church outdo themselves on their superb new album A Renewed Crusade The Church return to form with a stunningly ambitious album of shimmering rock The Church - Untitled #23 (Unorthodox/MGM) ***** (5/5 Stars) While many of their contemporaries are coming out of retirement and dusting off their Eighties hits for reunion tours, the Church, like Nick Cave, have never called it quits, instead continuing to evolve and experiment with music in a way that puts "cutting edge" rock dinosaurs like U2 to shame. The band have deftly kept the key elements of their trademark sound constant, allowing them to try all manner of experiments around the edges without ever alienating or confusing their die-hard fans. Untitled #23 is their most accessible album in recent years, but it's no less ambitious than recent efforts. Marty Willson-Piper and Peter Koppes's guitars bubble, scrape and swirl in layers so dense that it takes multiple listens to appreciate the complexity of the arrangements. Amazingly, Steve Kilbey's instantly recognisable voice and off-kilter phrasing cuts through even the most murky passages, showing studio-smarts that are seldom seen these days outside of Sigur Rós recordings. Like My Bloody Valentine and the aforementioned Icelanders, the Church know that even the most sonically extreme psychedelia needs to be anchored with a solid melodic idea, and this is where Kilbey earns his stripes as one of the country's most underrated songwriters. You have to admire the Church's stubborn refusal to cash in on their early success and do the whole nostalgia rock circuit thing. By hanging everything on the faith that their best work is still ahead of them, the Church sound every bit as relevant now as they did way back in 1987. Their new songs sound emotional, raw and at times even scarily angry, without ever sounding like they're trying to conjure up demons-long banished by years of comfortable living and golfing trips. Even those with a short attention span will find enough immediacy in their sound to remind them that the band that penned one of Australia's unofficial national anthems "Under the Milky Way" won't be appearing at a leagues club near you anytime soon. - MATT COYTE |
| Name: | Fip |
| Review Source (if not you): | Greg Barbrick, blogcritics.org |
| Review or Comments: | Absolutely mesmerizing. I had no idea The Church still had a record like this in them. Untitled #23 is hands down their best since Heyday, and it gives that one a run for the money. I was so floored I began composing this review before the disc even ended.
One of the things that makes these songs so good is their textured sound. The majestic pop of “Already Yesterday” or “Under The Milky Way” was a thing of beauty, no question. But that style dated very quickly, which is one of the reasons they had such difficulty following up their early success. The atmospheres The Church toyed with back in the day have now fully matured. Untitled #23 is a dark dream of a record, hypnotic almost. The opening track “Cobalt Blue” draws the listener in immediately. With Marty Willson-Piper’s chiming guitars framing Steve Kilbey’s haunting refrain “Let it go, let it go” the results are riveting. “Pangaea” and “Space Saviour” continue the mood, but it is with “On Angel Street” that this record becomes triumphant. It is a film noir journey through Kilbey’s subconscious, as he ruminates on a relationship’s end. This is the most personal song I have heard in ages, an achingly beautiful piece of music. “Anchorage” is another peak, the interplay between the band is just incredibly tight as the song builds to it’s climax. “Operetta” closes things out as they began, with swirling guitars framing stream of conscious lyrics, as only The Church can do. Given the band’s spotty record since Starfish, I thought they might have front loaded the best tracks, and I kept waiting for the clunkers to appear. There are none on Untitled #23. To record what is quite possibly their best album ever after nearly 30 years together is an extraordinary achievement. It is also one hell of a record. I wish I knew the significance of the title, but like everything else here, it really does not matter. All that matters is the music, and in that regard The Church have hit a home run. |