Photo of The Church by Adam Nicholas
Lacuna is The Church’s 28th album. This is the Australian band’s fifth decade making music. Let that sink in. Of course, longevity doesn’t equate to vitality. But the band has used its uncanny ability to morph like a lava lamp to surf the crests of rock music and absorb new influences. Their willingness to try new things, even if they sometimes don’t work, gives them real staying power, and a vigor that belies their years.
The band has thrived over the long arc of its lifetime despite (and possibly also because of) numerous lineup changes. The current iteration of the group features former Powderfinger guitarist Ian Haug, who has now been with the band for over a decade; multi-instrumentalist Jeffrey Cain (of Remy Zero); guitarist Ashley Naylor; and Nicholas Meredith on drums. The newer faces support The Church’s core: Tim Powles, once the “new drummer” who has become a backbone of the group over the course of 30 plus years as a multi-instrumentalist, producer, and collaborator; and singer/bassist/songwriter Steve Kilbey, the suave mystic at the heart of the band.
”Lumbini Grove” heralds the album with a buzzing, theatrical intro before dissipating, leaving only Kilbey’s voice to intone like a lost prophet over a thrumming kick drum. The enigmatic song sounds like a meditation, until it explodes into a revelation of chiming guitars and crescendos of percussion. It’s evocative without being overt — another trick the band have honed to near perfection over the years.
The menacing “Have You Been Here Before” cuts through a foreboding Bauhaus groove with gauzy guitars reminiscent of The House of Love. Lead track “Western” fortifies the band’s trusty indie jangle with a vivid shoegaze tinge, while the entrancing “Sky River” melds a kaleidoscopic psychedelic-era Beatles vibe to folk rock harmonies. “Forever” follows the underground stream of prog rock influences in the band’s music and gives it a British Invasion twist, resulting in a sublime moment of “Magical Mystery Floyd.”
Elsewhere, the confidently taut “Sky and Hill” is a dusty Southwestern country rocker as seen through Kilbey’s singular lens. It’s worth noting that his voice, now a lived-in, and slightly gravelly, 72 years old, has lost a bit of range but none of its gravity. If anything, it adds an extra layer of arcane appeal. The effortless sway of “Winter” could slot right in on college radio circa 1989…or a current dream pop revival playlist. With its lyrical guitar licks, it’s one of several tracks that indirectly evoke the band’s heyday while also serving as a reminder how the band has resisted “nostalgia act” status. Instead, they seem to relish their role as still-lively godfathers of newly re-appreciated sounds and genres they helped pioneer.
Lacuna’s atmospheric blend of immediate and epic moments brings to mind the expansive mindfuck of 1992’s alt-goth lodestone Priest=Aura and the shimmering, captivating economy of 2002’s After Everything Now This. At 17 songs, the band could have trimmed the runtime to accommodate our present attention-span-challenged era. But instead, Kilbey and company lean into their strength of making music that asks for your attention, and that rewards it with a near-cinematic experience — including a big payoff with the resounding, nearly ten-minute finale “Sacred Echoes.” Lacuna is not only a worthy entry in the group’s wide-ranging discography, it’s a collection that’s a pleasure to get lost in, and one that suggests a band with many more tricks up its sleeve, psychic universes to explore, and zero intention of slowing down. | Mike Rengel
The Church’s new album Lacuna will be available to stream on Friday, November 6, with North American physical release following on Friday, November 20. To preorder or pre-add on your streaming service of choice, click here.
