LP reviewed in Sounds, 17th July, 1982
THE LORDS OF THE NEW CHURCH ‘The Lords Of The New Church’ (Illegal Records ILP 009) ***1/2 | WERE TALKING about the original victims of circumstance. Take one rank hippy who cut his locks and formed one of the original punk bands only to leave and pursue a career as one of the failed crusaders of the psychedelic revival.
Then there’s one of the few remaining survivors from that well documented Sham-bolic farce, from the pantomime of hypocrisy circa 1977; I mean, we all know now that Sham 69 were in fact the real rock and roll swindle.
And of course, there’s the snotty-nosed reptile who went from NYC to LA in a hungry bid for success. His, uh, over-zealous attitude was generally interpreted as desperation by the media who dubbed him as the King Ligger with the kiss of deletion on his lips.
We’re talking about the original whipping posts.
The Lords Of The New Church | S/T | (Illegal) 1982
Roll call (in order of the introduction above(acid punk Brian James (guitar), Hersham hipster Dave ‘Kermit’ Tregunna (bass) and the return of the living Dead Boy Stiv Bators. Add one more ingredient in the form of a juvenile aristocrat who obviously decided to take up drumming after hearing the Chantays “Pipeline” after having a bad trip, Nicky Turner, and this completes the recipe for the unholy union between Dantes Inferno and Expresso Bongo, Blasphemy and the Beat!
We’re talking about the Lords Of The New Church.
“Ya gotta walk it man, like ya talk it, wear the uniform of your gang” (‘New Church’)
The fact is that while most critics would regard this gathering as a waste bin of lost humanity, people like myself are totally convinced that anything Stiv associates himself with has got to be work of pure genius by the numero uno pariah of pulp pop.
The cover of ‘New Church’ depicts the group looking like a junked-out street gang from the most bombed part of the Bronx who’ve just walked onto a Dali-esque scenario and decided to help themselves to a table full of nosh (ligging again, Stiv?).
On record Brian James goes out of his way to prove that he once played with lggy Pop and the influence rubs off on Stiv in the group’s worst and most mindless song ‘Eat Your Heart Out’.
Bators continues to impress us with his aptitude for mimicry in ‘Li’l Boys Play With Dolls’, clever word play on the New York Dolls (spot the titles) and a novelty track.
The Lords Of The New Church | S/T | (Illegal) 1982
I personally prefer Stiv when he sounds vaguely reminiscent of an early Alice Cooper, which he does on ‘Portobello’, ‘Open Your Eyes’, ‘Livin’ On Livin’ and ‘Question Of Temperature’.
The finest of fine moments comes in the form of ‘Russian Roulette,’ a haunting song about someone’s lingerings around the West End. Yes, there’s some cleverly disguised heavy duty hippy idealism running rampant here but in no way does it interfere with the music which is direct hit rock’n’roll that totally suits Bators’ burnt-out vocals.
James comes over as one of those rare maestros in the art of minimalism, an out-and-out sound freak, spaced out on the Ventures while Turner can get a bit too bombastic at times, sounding like some sort of HM Sandy Nelson.
Like I said, sometimes the influences are a bit too blatant but Stiv manages to seal his stamp of identity and proves yet again that he deserves the stardom he yearns for. Amen. (Pete Makowski)
The Lords Of The New Church (Illegal)
BACK AGAIN. Old names back together doing old things like . . . making a record and X back home reviewing it. To Stiv and Brian, an album. Time for a weak epithet? Old punks never die, they simply riff away.
And look, here’s a gaggle: Stiv Bators, Brian James and Dave Treganna on Miles Copeland’s Illegal label. Some kinda supergroup, the cream of punk, or some kinda Supergroup, the Cream of punk? X will advise you, little ones.
Let’s do it in stages. Nicky Turner, ex-Surfboarder, crashes sweetly on drums while Kermit, ex-Hersham Boy, thumps bass and strums in counterpoint. A rhythm section with some pedigree if little imagination. And then the stars. Brian James, my first guitar hero, the psychedelic squeal to Tony James’ rough feel back in London SS days, is still squealing, still playing the same choons. Sometimes he plays them great. Look to them.
Most-times Stiv Bators sings stale stateside drawl so there’s precious little competition for stale stateside guitar lines. Stiv isn’t sure whether to ape Iggy or Alice Cooper but settles for sounding like the lead singer from the Dead Boys. Ex.
Don’t look to the graphics. The sleeve design is messy HM Narcissus, sixth form cack surreal, and is nine stops down, ten shots worse than the precise albeit stale heroics of the record inside.
Scratch around. Tho’ much of ‘Lords Of The New Church’ rocks lamely, and none of it matches the sublime rush of a guitar-tract like James’ ‘Living In Sin’, there’s three tracks worth looking for.
Look for: ‘New Church’, the single, which is raw enough. ‘Li’l Boys Play With Dolls’ which drops NY Dolls titles and lapses into inspired guitar. And ‘Holy War’ which builds up like U2 and winds down with “Greed and murder is forgiven when in the name of God … “
Three better than ‘Personality Crisis’. As for the rest? The rest rumbles in black and white and grey and 33 rpm, a Johnny Thunders requiem. Old Damned riffs and a Tony James / Terry Chimes song do nothing to spark some urgency; even when Stiv shouts it still sounds limp. “They scare us all with threats of war / So we forget just how bad things are”or “Law and order does their job / Prisons filled while the rich still rob” would sound sharp on the Sugarhill label but here it all sounds token.
“Religion causes most of the wars throughout history”, they state. “The meek will inherit the earth . . . six feet deep”, they warn but the message got lost three tracks back ‘midst all the NY punk and Detroit metal. The storm ‘n’ drawl of Dolls and Neon Boys is back again.
While riffing old punks Strummer and Jones push onwards, still fuming and furious, these old punks are riffing back to their roots. The Lords Of The new Church are the Blues Band of punk. (NME, 17/07/82)
Being a boy of some wit and taste it is my intention to preside over the burial of this LP with brevity and clarity.
Contained here is the cold, sick, and human detritus of the once mighty punk rock. The Lords Of The New Church have a Damned, a Sham and a Dead Boy; but wow, I won’t mention their names ‘cos these has-beens have already had far too much publicity. To explain – these boys were never Punks, but they were always Rockers – knoworrimean?
This is rock ‘n’ rebel posing at its worst, some sort of fourth form apocalypse, where heroes strut the streets with Fender guitars, black leather is a very mean colour, and drug abuse is – well you know – the only way out baby!
The Lords (how dare they blaspheme) haven’t quite recovered from their Keith Richards ‘romantic loser’ obsession – an affliction common in 14-year-old guitar players, but somehow not too dignified in men nearer 30 than 20.
This record has no threat or edge, says nothing constructive and is just one whine of leaden rock ‘n’ rebel, cliched guitar soloing and toilet-closet philosophising.
Just take a listen to the words: “Ya gotta walk like a man. Just like ya talk it. Wear the uniform of your gang.” Or: “Shut up – and sit down / Rich bitch eat your heart out.”
The final literary flourish is this: “If you’re living outside the law / Run to the hole in the wall / Bohemian hideout / A smugglers Inn / Find safety and refuge within.”
I said I’d be brief: this is rock ‘n’ roll? This is conservative . . . this is RUBBISH. Is that clear? * (Record Mirror, 07/08/82)
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