Uninvited, Like The Clouds

SPIEGEL ONLINE Forum "CDs der Woche - und Ihre Favoriten?" 

23.08.2007

icaros:

... schreibt halt eure Favoriten hier rein ...

Na dann: mein derzeitiger Favorit ist "Uninvited, Like The Clouds" von The Church. Die ist zwar schon von 2005, aber die Bandgeschichte findet eh in einem anderen Raum-Zeit-Kontinuum statt. Wie ja alle eben nicht wissen, ist dies die meistskandalös ignorierteste beste Band der Welt. Die beiden Gitarristen, Marty Willson-Piper und Peter Koppes, sind Bewahrer diverser Geheimnisse, zum Beispiel: wie würde ein fliegender Teppich klingen, wenn er klänge? Beide weben, Song für Song, seit 25 Jahren, einzigartige Texturen in einer ebenfalls einzigartigen Weise des Zusammenspiels. Ein Church-Song erklärt dir, wofür Gitarren erfunden wurden. Der größte Faux-pas im Zusammenhang mit dieser Band ist der Satz: Waren das nicht die mit "Under The Milky Way"? Ja. Waren sie. Und sind siriusweit davon entfernt. "Uninvited, Like The Clouds" kommt 20 Jahre nach "Heyday" und 13 Jahre nach "Priest = Aura", den beiden bislang besten Alben von The Church, und als Bonus zu den 12 Songs gibt es Pausen zwischen den Songs, die als akustisches Menetekel plötzlich die blasse Einfallslosigkeit von Heerscharen anderer "The"-Bands erscheinen lassen. Steve Kilbey, nebenher für einzigartige Basslinien bekannt, hat eine Stimme, der man glaubt, daß Kilbey tatsächlich im Zeitalter Nebukadnezars der Entdecker der Melancholie war, besser, der toska, der unbestimmten Sehnsucht nach etwas Unerreichbarem, das dann doch immer wieder in Wahrnehmungen aufblitzt, für die Kilbey seit jeher magisch-mystische Bilder findet, in denen Dinge zusammenkommen, die sonst nicht zusammenkommen ("Day 5"). Die Band befindet sich gerade, nach diversen Turbulenzen, in ihrer dritten kreativen Hochphase, längst jenseits von Gut und Böse des kommerziellen Erfolgs, trotzdem: spenden Sie Ihr Geld dieser Kirche.

Eventually
We came to a chasm dark and wide
And drifted in silence through endless anemones
In shallow dreams
Life was beginning to take a shape
Water was warm as it hastened our enemies

This kind of world will start a little colony
This kind of earth will eat a little energy
This kind of thing needs a little secrecy

After thousands of years
Our priests have predicted you would come
You with your death that appears in no photograph

We watched the night sky
We bickered like fools amongst ourselves
We sought protection in artificial youth

This kind of world will start a little colony
This kind of earth will eat a little energy
This kind of thing needs a little secrecy

In a sickening jump
I fell through the surface of my life
And I was cut back by the hollow camaraderie
The planet was still
Nothing moved as it slept in space
I pulled on my suit and exited quietly 

Listen
Can you even imagine how this all went wrong
Was supposed to be a good trip
We're all supposed to feel like we belong

Don't pitch me the script
I've got a suggestion for the end of it
Don't beat up your computer, don't downplay your soul
Don't find it wanting when you've lost control

Just like the stories they tell ya
Just like the tripe that they sell ya
Just like the dead you say 'hell yeah'

Watch out
You can never be certain if anyone is really a friend
This could have been such a sweet thing
We all should be leaving in the end

Your network's gone down
No one can connect you up in this town
You scoped out a slot, you scooped out a niche
You're strutting along on the end of a leash

Just like the stories they tell ya
Just like the tripe that they sell ya
Just like the dead you say 'hell yeah'

Help me
Can't find my way back
I feel like I'm already off the map
This should have been such a pleasure
I thought it would all fall right in my lap

Conversing with cash
You've cashed all your chips
You fished out my sea, see
You dropped all the drips

Just like the stories they tell ya
Just like the tripe that they sell ya
Just like the dead you say 'hell yeah'

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Paris Graves: Delphine Seyrig

Cimetière Montparnasse


Photo C. E.

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Waiting for those Kings to come - The Church

"Priest = Aura" (1992):

To listen to much of this album is to eavesdrop on a man wrapped up in a fantastic dialogue with the outermost reaches of his imagination. If the rumours are true, Arista initially refused to release "Priest = Aura", not really understanding what the f*** Church songwriter Steve Kilbey was on about and rightly concerned for his physical and psychological welfare.

One minute attempting to deal with some grand allusion to the space-time-continuum, expertly turning some equally outrageous grand illusion into fact the next. "You're so deluxe, you're so divine, you're so 50 light years ahead of your time", he sings, a victim of the love wars as well as the star wars. When Kilbey calls his lover a mutant, the smooth-talking f***er does so with a dozen red roses hidden behind his back.

(Mat Smith)

Kings

See history fade, it's crystal clear
Aurora what you doing here
Buttering the mouths of thieves
Shutter speed your bleeding leaves
In gardens in the orient
Likelihood is good and spent
Herod nods beneath the palms
Holds poor baby in his arms

Tunis and Sardinia
The ocean growing hungrier
Beneath these walls we'll sleep tonight
Beneath this sky we'll glide so bright
And kings will come, years will pass
Stars burn cold beneath the glass
And days will glow in distant times
In distorted haze the zebras graze

In deserts where the dust storm blows
And lush black swamps where mandrake grows
We're marching laughing to the drum
Waiting for those kings to come

And kings will come and years will pass
Stars burn cold beneath the glass
And days will glow in distant times
In distorted haze the zebras graze

An infant with the voice of a crone
In Nebukhadnezars parking zone
Calls out My Lord your end is nigh
I didn't mean to make you cry

In deserts where the dust storm blows
And lush black swamps where mandrake grows
We're marching laughing to the drum
Waiting for those kings to come

The circus sun in Nero eyes
The lions and the Christians rise
Software sings and hardware hears
We're destined babe to live these years

 

 

Geburtstagsoffenbarung auf Anfrage, Brief aus Australien 1986

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