Covers can be wonderful things. It can be extremely satisfying to hear a good song covered by a good band. The best covers, of course, occur when a band chooses unexpected material or really bends a song against its own will. Excellent examples of both concepts are the Pixies' version of David Lynch's "In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)," or Miranda Sex Garden's version of David Lynch's "In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)," or Modest Mouse's much-ballyhooed "Workin' on Leavin' the Livin," which, of course, quotes the infectious chorus of David Lynch's "In Heaven (Lady in the Radiator Song)." Three bands, three covers of the same song, and three totally different, surprising-- and delicious-- results.

On the other hand (because there's always another hand), there's really nothing so dissatisfying as hearing a good song covered by a bad band. Even worse is a bad song covered by a bad band. And perhaps even worst of all is a good song covered by a good band that's, as they say, phoned in. Box of Birds has got all of those problems, depending on one's personal opinion on the Church's goodness or badness. It's even got at least one bad cover of a slightly better cover of a good song written by a great musician. Um. Sure. Of course it does.

For an incredibly succinct analysis of the Box of Birds situation, consider this, the first sentence of the press material I received with the disc: "A collection of cover versions that came to life in haphazard fashion, never originally planned to be a full length album, or for mainstream release." Now what's wrong with that sentence? Right, first of all, it's an exceptionally poor choice for an opening; it's wishy-washy and apologetic, and doesn't even begin to convince me that I might want to listen to the album itself. More importantly-- and as you may have discerned-- this sentence is, um, not a sentence. Just try to find a subject or a predicate in that mess. You won't, though you may find a dangling participle and an only barely avoided tense change. It does not bode well, I tell ya.

The album itself is just about what you'd expect of an album of covers performed by a band whose 15 minutes were over about four hours ago. The Church has had their moments over the years, but by and large, they've never managed to be much more than four Australians who play bar-rock distilled from the music of their psychedelic/ prog/ glam forbearers. The Church's song selection here (if not their actual performances), at least attempts a sort of homage: there's Alex Harvey's "The Faith Healer," Iggy Pop's "Endless Sea," Hawkwind's "Silver Machine," and even the Bowie-penned Mott the Hoople hit "All the Young Dudes." All of these are uninspired and mostly by-the-numbers renditions.

The songs which present the most possibility for the sort of unexpected juxtaposition that marks an excellent cover (namely Ultavox's "Hiroshima mon Amour" and Television's classic "Friction") are remarkable only insofar as that they transform the originals' pathos into jam-band pathos. Other entries include tunes by the Monkees (you heard me) and Neil Young. Perhaps the worst of the lot is the Beatles' "It's All Too Much." It seems to me that the only thing more ill-advised than covering a Beatles song is covering a throwaway Beatles song.

Evidently, this project emerged from the Church's tendency to include several of these songs in their live shows. But while they may have come off okay in the of-the-moment atmosphere of a rock concert, making them part of the permanent record was probably not such a hot idea.

-Zach Hooker