Frequently misunderstood as Australia's contribution to the new psychedelia, the Church is in fact a rock & roll sect of rare distinction (the screaming paisley motif of this album's cover notwithstanding). With its 1981 Australian hit, "The Unguarded Moment," and the group's '82 import jewel, The Blurred Crusade, the Sydney quartet laid the foundation for a stately cathedralguitar rock distinguished by a haunting resonance, a regal rhythmic bearing and an unexpected hint of menace. What you get is more like a diligently polished Television than Byrds-by-numbers.

At times, Heyday, the Church's third U.S. release, indeed reverberates with familiar echoes of acid pop past and present, particularly in the latticework guitars of Peter Koppes and Marty Willson-Piper and the shy, prayerful tone of singer and bassist Steven Kilbey's throaty vocals. The instrumental "Happy Hunting Ground" floats over a bed of pillowy acoustic guitars and benign bongos, its plucked strings and swelling tremolo guitar capturing both the meditative sincerity and endearing whimsy of Sixties raga kitsch. More arresting, though, is the deployment of strings and horns to accent the band's high-amp thrust on "Tantalized" and "Night of Light." Combined with the guitarists' excited arpeggios and locomotive scratch, the distant Stax/Volt bleating of the brass in "Tantalized" and the sorrowful grace of the strings on "Night of Light" suggest a more electrified version of Love's '68 orchestral rock classic Forever Changes.

Stripped down to basics, the Church can be no less evocative. Kilbey's voice drips with the casual sarcasm of Lou Reed in "Disenchanted," while the urgent chatter of Koppes and Willson-Piper's guitars in "Myrrh," underscored by Richard Ploog's torpedo drumming, sounds like Television dismantling "Eight Miles High." There is sometimes more murk than mystery in producer Peter Walsh's overuse of echo here, and the telegraphic impressionism of the lyrics, usually Kilbey's, may confound some listeners. But there is no mistaking the troubled elegance of the guitars in "Columbus" or Kilbey's broad pop hints in "Already Yesterday." As its title implies, Heyday is prime Church. Go forth and dig it. (RS 468)

DAVID FRICKE