Over time, the band Church have earned the crown as Australia’s premier pop bards. Guitarists Peter Koppes and Marty Willson-Piper (an Englishman from Liverpool), with their lively “jingle-jangle” chiming, gentle melodic lines, driving progressions, atmospheric chords, and crystalline counterpoints, transform every song into a transported, dreamlike moment of ecstasy. Singer Steve Kilbey (also the main composer and bassist), adopting the most colloquial inflections of David Bowie’s fatalistic, decadent tone, adds that touch of existential melancholy that paints even the catchiest choruses with pathos and anguish.

The first single of 1980, She Never Said (Parlophone), and the melodic gems of their debut album, Of Skin And Heart (Parlophone, 1981), the following year, definitively established their poetic universe. From the soft, ethereal Merseybeat of Unguarded Moment (one of their greatest singles) to the radiant folk-rock of Too Fast For You, their style is “classic” melodicism—clean and focused, with the minimal necessary arrangements and maximal intensity. The superb instrumental filigree of Tear It All Away documents the quartet’s scenographic skill.
Kilbey sings, trembling like a leaf in the wind, in the dreamlike sonic landscape of Sisters. Yet the pathetically Lennon-esque Don't Open The Door To Strangers, the hard rock of Memories In Future Tense, and, worse, the long psychedelic suite Is This Where You Live also reveal the band’s Achilles’ heel: a tendency toward sudden drops in energy, often due to a streak of dispersiveness. In short, the Church are unbeatable in their own little garden, but clumsy and awkward when venturing into wider open spaces.

Blurred Crusade (Carrere, 1982) turned towards a more emphatic stance and adopted a late-psychedelic production quality, thus obliterating the magic of the previous delicate madrigals.
If Almost With You was merely an exercise in Byrds-ian jangling folk-rock (and Just For You a simplified version of this melodic idea), the locomotive beat and petulant guitar tapestry of When You Were Mine represented a significant bridge between old and new (An Interlude almost replicates the synthesis). The hard-rocking A Fire Burns and the eight-minute melodramatic and danceable You Took further increased the sonic impact.

The songs from that period were often bland and repetitive, with few exceptions: A Different Man from the EP Sing Songs, the singles It's No Reason and Electric Lash from the album Seance (Carrere, 1983), A Month Of Sundays from the EP Remote Luxury (Parlophone, 1983), Constant In Opal and Shadow Cabinet from the EP Persia (Parlophone, 1984), later collected on the album Remote Luxury (WB, 1984). In 1985, the single Already Yesterday instead announced the start of their major phase.

Heyday (WB, 1985), released the following January, put the psychedelic lessons to use in lyrical compositions whose melodies seem to glide gracefully and majestically over almost ethereal instrumental parts. Myrrh slides its hypnotic theme over a frenetic rhythm, enhanced by guitar fuzz. Tantalized shifts gears, lively and driving, with a disco beat and rhythm-and-blues horns, borrowing something from the Byrds of Younger Than Yesterday and the Moody Blues. The Church drew freely from the airy, naive Merseybeat motifs (Tristesse) and the intricate folk-rock jingle-jangle (Columbus). This meticulous exploration is capped by the heroic pop, complete with chorus, of Already Yesterday. The instrumental Happy Hunting Ground is masterful, a cross between a symphonic overture and a Native American war dance. Disenchanted was also released as a single.

In this sense, Starfish (Arista, 1988) is almost a betrayal. Completely distorting that model, misreading its dreamlike aspects, and misunderstanding their own historical lesson in atmospheric melody, the Church reduced themselves to mimicking chart-topping groups. The tender and affectionate ballad Destination, with its undulating rhythm and subdued chorus, sets the new standard, which—with a disco beat and a more pronounced melody—is that of Under The Milky Way (one of their classics). The seductive chorus of Reptile is the logical outcome of this approach, now one step away from atmospheric synth-pop. Their folk roots emerge only in Antenna, a martial waltz sung with Dylan-esque pathos. The Church’s trajectory seemed to have reached a dead end.

In the meantime, Kilbey, after the single This Asphalt Eden (Parlophone, 1985), launched his solo career with two albums that complement each other: Unearthed (Enigma, 1987), a collection of folk-rock ballads, and Earthed (Rykodisc, 1988), a collection of instrumental tracks. Kilbey’s best song, however, is on the subsequent Slow Crack (Red Eye, 1988) and is titled Transaction (with Fireman and Starling Street almost equally strong). In 1990 he released his tour de force, Remindlessness (Red Eye), in which No Such Thing demonstrates Kilbey’s skill as a masterful arranger. He would later follow it with Narcosis (1997) and Gilt Trip (1997).

Willson-Piper (who had moved to Stockholm) responded with In Reflection (Chase, 1987), which is as much folk as Kilbey’s works are rock, and as eccentric as it is sparse. The subsequent Art Attack (Rykodisc, 1988), in the same vein, contains even more striking minimal-song experiments (such as Word, in which the musician speaks random words for eight minutes over a hypnotic melody). She's King and On The Tip Of My Tongue were released as singles.

Via the albums Rhyme (Rykodisc, 1989), with Questions Without Answers and Melancholy Girl, and Spirit Level (Rykodisc, 1992), with Luscious Ghost and I Can't Cry, the guitarist attempted to sell his concept of folk/kitsch to a wider audience.

Koppes, meanwhile, had started with the single When Reason Forbids (Session, 1987), and in his albums Manchild & Myth (Rykodisc, 1988) and From The Well (TV Toons, 1989) he fared even worse than his two companions, enlisting in the legions of synth-pop. Under the name Well, he released Water Rites (Worldwater, 1995), followed by Love Era / Irony (1997), the first arranged with keyboards, mandolin, didgeridoo, flute, and percussion.

Kilbey also launched the Hex project, with Donnette Thayer of Game Theory. Hex (First Warning, 1989) and Vast Halos (First Warning, 1990) showcase them searching for ornate, Hugo Largo-like sounds, but the results are closer to B-grade psychedelic revival bands (Fire Island and Silvermine are the most evocative tracks of the first album).

In 1991 Kilbey also launched Jack Frost (Arista, 1991), with Grant McLennan of the Go-Betweens, featuring Every Hour God Sends and Thought That I Was Over You. The experiment was followed by Snow Job (Karmic Hit, 1995), an album more McLennan than Kilbey (Aviatrix). In 1994 Kilbey also worked under the name Fake. Overall, in his multifaceted discography, Kilbey proved to be as prolific as he was mediocre, confirming the limitations but not the strengths of the Church’s records.

Meanwhile, the Church recorded Gold Afternoon Fix (Arista, 1990), containing a handful of singles: Metropolis, Russian Autumn Heart, Terra Nova Cain, and You're Still Beautiful. From a strictly sonic standpoint, their blend of guitars and keyboards had reached its formal peak, becoming as distinctive as Roger Waters’ sound (and equally uncreative).

A Quick Smoke At Spot's (Mushroom, 1991) marks the nadir of this phase.

In 1992 it was the turn of Priest = Aura (Arista, 1992), featuring Ripple, Feel, and other drifting "ambient" lullabies; but the Church name was by now being kept alive artificially for purely commercial purposes (and so was their sound): the four members lived and worked in different cities, on different projects, with different ideas of what music should be. They shared only the songwriting royalties generated by the Church enterprise.

After the departure of Koppes, with the group pared down to the duo of Willson-Piper (now residing in Stokholm) and Kilbey (based in Sydney), the Church released Sometime Anywhere (Arista, 1994), their most complex work yet with many songs longer than six minutes. Instead of simplifying their sound to make it more accessible, the Church were pushing it towards ever more ambitious goals. The combination of guitar feedback, tribal beat and demonic vocals creates a haunting atmosphere in Day Of The Dead, like Inxs at their best, but, unlike Inxs, the song sinks on a lame refrain. The lengthy My Little Problem is simply monotonous and tedious. The eight-minute ballad Two Places At Once alternates tenderness with a pompous instrumental surge, but fails to achieve the desired pathos. Business Woman is a hard-rocking lullaby that returns to the humbler style of the beginnings, but would have been an inferior song on the first album. The nine-minute Fly Home is a prog-rock suite with little imagination. Admittedly the Church draw from multiple styles: a disco beat and synthetic new-age arrangements are basically the protagonists of Lost My Touch; the mellow ballad Loveblind is basically slow-motion flamenco; Authority is reminiscent of British dark-punk; the instrumental Eastern (that has almost nothing in common with the rest of the album) evokes desert dances and bazaar music with ethnic instruments. On the positive front, Angelica is a hypnotic dance jam with sequenced polyrhythm, cosmic keyboards, biting vocals and gypsy violin. The Maven compensates the production excesses of other songs with a bit of Neil Young's guitar hysteria and a whispered lullaby that is part evil and part sweet.

Magician Among The Spirits (Deep Karma, 1996), later reissued with the songs from an EP as Magician Among The Spirits And Some (Thirsty Ear, 1998), crowns the group’s revival. It is a desperately romantic album, wrapped in a soundscape of metaphysical dreaminess.
Opening the album is a fatalistic and gothic-style overture, Welcome, light and atmospheric, rhythmic and catchy, setting the tone for the rest of the record with its blend of melancholic Chris Isaak, prophetic Nick Cave, and modernist INXS. Nick Cave also inspires the solemn tone of the recitation and suspenseful arrangements of Why Don't You Love Me. More than songs, these are psychoanalytic studies.
Comedown is instead the most accessible song in ages, a languid Merseybeat chorus paired with an epic jingle-jangle guitar line worthy of the Byrds (echoing Almost With You).
Guitars and electronic backgrounds create an almost symphonic sound, increasingly nuanced and dreamlike, reminiscent of Pink Floyd, as demonstrated by Man on the Comedown EP.
This style explodes in the instrumental Grandiose, drowned in King Crimson-style Mellotron swirls and deafening heavy-metal guitar solos, overlaid with a dreamy Pink Floyd-like A Saucerful Of Secrets vocalization, occasionally punctuated by a gypsy violin romance.
The atmosphere turns infernal with It Could Be Anyone, suspended over a minimalist plucking of a Michael Nyman-style string section, sung menacingly over an occult ceremonial cadence, torn apart by an apocalyptic crescendo. More than songs, these are hallucinatory nightmares.
Towards the end, the album changes completely. The Church let themselves drift into calm and seductive sensations, with a sound bordering on new age and soft jazz. Romany Caravan is an instrumental piece with an exotic rhythm, featuring colorful instrumental timbres and near-classical counterpoints from strings and harpsichord. After Image is a delicate piano sonata with free-flowing vocalizations.
Dominating the album is the fourteen-minute acoustic ballad Magician Among The Spirits. The vocals approach Jim Morrison on Riders On The Storm, with Chris Isaak-style spatial chords. More than a song, it is an abstract fresco, its stream of consciousness accompanied by noises and crumbling chords.
Perhaps no one has ever turned guitar pop into experimental art as they have. Over the years, they have become true virtuosos of orchestration, dynamics, narrative, and singing.

Preceded by the single White Star Line, Hologram Of Baal (Thirsty Ear, 1998) was released, featuring the return of Koppes and the addition of drummer Tim Powles. However, the return to the rock band format did not benefit Kilbey and Willson-Piper, who regressed to the classic Church sound. The singles Louisiana and The Great Machine seem to come straight from albums of ten years earlier. The album includes a 79-minute bonus disc, Bastard Universe, leaning toward a more amateurish than ambient rock style (as was originally intended).

A Box Of Birds (Thirsty Ear, 1999) collects covers recorded in a country house in Sweden.

By then, Church’s songbook was already one of the richest in all of pop music. Their trajectory resembles that of the early and greatest theorists of melodic rock for bands, the Beach Boys: starting with a formula of catchy refrains, Church gradually shifted their focus toward harmonic construction, arriving at an experimental format that stands as an art form in its own right.

The elegant, majestic and intense arrangements of After Everything Now This (Thirsty Ear, 2002) recall the best moments of Church's past, although the songs often indulge in sonic bliss for the sake of sonic bliss (After Everything, Chromium).

Wilson-Piper's solo project Noctorum released Sparks Lane (Heyday, 2003), a confused hodgepodge of acoustic folk and dream-pop.

Forget Yourself (spinART, 2004) is an uninspired and annoying repetition of Church's leitmotives. Sealine, Song in Space, Appalatia, Don't You Fall and Reversal are all decent, hummable and graceful, but hardly memorable and certainly not innovative. And when the band increases the melodrama (The Theatre and Its Double) or the ethereal (Telepath, Maya), the songwriting is as flat and cold as latter-day Pink Floyd.

Isidore (Brash, 2005) was a collaboration between Steve Kilbey and Jeffrey Cain which basically returned to the sound of Jack Frost. The duo would resurrect Isidore seven years later for Life Somewhere Else (2012), a lethargic effort that only occasionally comes to life (Just Dust, Recoil)>

El Momento Descuidado (Cooking Vinyl, 2005) offers acoustic versions of some of the band's classics.

Uninvited Like The Clouds (Cooking Vinyl, 2006) has little that they did not do better before (Real Toggle Action).

Untitled #23 (Second Motion/Unorthodox, 2009), their 23rd studio album, was a testament to their meticulously crafted pop art. Their songs can acquire an almost spiritual status thanks to sonic density and carefully planned dynamics. Cobalt Blue is a faceless litany enhanced with free-form instrumental noise, soaring strings and cinematic guitar twang. The grinding Space Saviour builds up a sense of pathos a` la U2 although it doesn't quite know what to do with it. Sunken Sun evokes psychedelic-pop hymns from the 1960s but without the catchy refrain. And perhaps it is not a coincidence that the melodrama of Anchorage is reminiscent of latter-day Pink Floyd before it decays into a pub singalong. The similarity is even stronger in Operetta. The melodies are the weakest link, so much so that in Pangaea they give up trying to sing them: there isn't much to sing. The song is mostly about the ethereal atmosphere created by the neoclassical instruments. Happenstance is even "emptier": just a lazy, languid drift of quasi-music. On Angel Street borders on abstract soundpainting.

Baby Grance 1975-77 (HoZac, 2018) collects unreleased songs by Steve Kilbey and Peter Koppes from their early days when they were just plagiarizing glam-pop.