The Church - 'Forget Yourself' (Cooking Vinyl)
4/5
By: Kari Wynn
No shock, preconceptions must be a real bitch for bands - particularly those... ahem... older bands.
Enter Australia's The Church. That's right, THE CHURCH. They're back, and they're every bit as wonderful as that 'Under The Milky Way' single you probably have lurking in your dusty old pile of 45's (or, for those of you in the younger generation, on some 'Your Older Sibling's Favourite 'n' Shameful Indie Hits From The 80's' compilation - you know... the one you bought so you could listen to it without getting a kicking?).
Written and recorded in their hometown of Sydney, 'Forget Yourself' is the band's, gasp, seventeenth album and, simply, feels poles apart to their previous sixteen (we're guessing). Tellingly, drummer/producer Tim Powles explains the sound as '... the result of being set up casually in a very relaxed studio,' bearing 'minimal overdubs,' while 'jams that didn't fall naturally into 'song' style order (were) cut into chunks and reassembled, preserving all the bangs, crashes and accidents intact.' Plausibly, it's this method that allows The Church's naturally spacy, murky and dark tone to - ironically - shine.
Opening-track 'Sealine' kicks off with a tremendous wall-of-sound backed up by that voice. It dreamily swaggers along, its druggy undertones grinning shamelessly, building up to a deftly 'Definitely Maybe'-style guitar-jam that Noel will probably nick. Such a cacophony kicks off proceedings so well that it's almost tempting to overlook the advancing 'Song in Space', which, while adequate, suffers from too many ideas crammed into one track, failing to exude the sheer, unabashed confidence of the opener. Likewise for 'The Theatre and Its Double', which picks up the gong for Song That Sounds Great Until You Hear The Lyrics. 'Baby I know there are people out there starving/Baby don't go, you got the wrong idea.' Eh?
Fear not, though - the band pulls it back together neatly, and if you're able to overlook these two less-than-standout tracks you'll arrive at the meat of the album - and the preconception assassins: the startling 'Telepath' with all its summery Beach Boys vocals and shimmering guitar; the sinister bite of 'Lay Low'; and the lush morbidity of 'Nothing Seeker'. It's a beautiful, sudden return to form.
Yes, the whole world likes a surprise, and even after twenty-four years together, The Church have certainly delivered us one; little more can be asked for.
Artists in this article: The Church
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