For some of us, the best records aren’t necessarily the ones that immediately grab you by the lapel and drag you, willingly or not, into the sunshine. They’re the ones that take time to settle in, whose every spin reveals new details, stronger melodies, and interesting textures. Australian psychedelic rock band The Church has made records that reward that kind of engagement for almost five decades now, and they keep that method rolling on their latest album Lacuna.
After The Hypnogogue and Eros Zeta and the Perfumed Guitars , a pair of interconnected LPs that exploited the glam and progressive rock roots that have always peeked out of forty-plus years of music, the sextet (singer/bassist Steve Kilbey, drummer/multi-instrumentalist Tim Powles, guitarists Ian Haug and Ashley Naylor, multi-instrumentalist Jeffrey Cain, and drummer Nicholas Meredith) reconnects with the acid-tinged jangle pop and post punk of their late eighties and early nineties years. That’s not to say the group has gone retro, mind you – the widescreen textures of the previous two records abound. But there’s definitely a stronger strain of what some people might consider “classic” Church running through most of these songs, with ringing guitars, dreamy clouds, tripped-out arrangements, and Kilbey’s distinctive lyrics and charismatic baritone anchoring them all.
Even better, the band makes this music without cannibalizing themselves. At first “The Lemurian” might sound like it could have come Starfish, “Rapture” from Heyday, “Winter” from The Blurred Crusade, “I Want It” from Forget Yourself, and “Sacred Echoes” (a towering achievement in a catalog packed with them) from Priest = Aura. But those multiple spins reveal familiar elements given new life based on recent experience, letting the band be their best selves without sounding like they’re trying to copy more popular times. Pretty damn good for a combo whose first album came out in 1981.
While it’s always good to hear artists push themselves outside of expectations, it can be just as rewarding to listen to someone revitalizing what they’ve always done well. Plenty of other artists use Kilbey and company as Northern stars, but none of them nail the singular balance of tastes and textures that have made them the band that they are. Nobody’s as good at being the Church but the Church, and spin after spin of Lacuna proclaims that loud, chiming, fuzzy, and clear.
