Review: Church of the Sea – Eva

Artwork by: George Gkousetis for Semitone Labs

Style: Doomgaze, Gothic Metal, Industrial Rock (Clean Vocals)
Recommended for fans of: Boris, Villagers of Ioannina City, early Lucifer, Trees of Eternity
Country: Greece
Release date: 11 April 2025

Of all the elements, none seem to me as foreboding as water. The ocean, specifically; an abyssal plain mired in secrecy, capable of projecting statements of serenity and violent obliteration alike. Despite our best efforts at taming this monolith of nature, we remain unsuccessful. We’ve corrupted it, yes, but make no mistake: the waters will one day rise and eventually devour us in our hubris, rendering the supposedly immutable strength of our technological and “civilized” world nothing more than a fanciful reef of concrete, steel, and glass. Bleak, I know, but such is the measure of Greek doomgaze trio Church of the Sea.

Two years removed from debut Odalisque, the young Athenian cohort have plumbed the halls of their barnacled worship-house to deliver a conceptual, revisionist take on Eve, reimagining Christianity’s First Lady¹ as a rebel rather than sinner. Vocalist Irene leads this somber congregation as she doles out sirenic croons atop waves of Vangelis’ sundering guitar, and a crush depth of apocalyptic darkwave summoned by the archdiocese of atmosphere, Alex (synths/samples). The mood across Eva, like the sea, is dark and roiling and yawning; as all good doom should be. There is no coast on the horizon upon which this journey shall terminate. Eva demands you either float upon its waves or be pulled under and obliterated.

Sonically, Church of the Sea succeed in generating an undertow of effectively gloomy tracks, in no small part to the gnarled electronic beats and ever-constant churn of synthetic drones, hums and eldritch wails. Some people may scoff at a metal band using electronic drums in lieu of a proper set of skins, but I will dissent and applaud the choice. Alex knows how to establish and support the mood, carving a gorgeous melancholia from his synths and beatmakers. I was reminded often of another percussively electronic band, Luminous Vault, who likewise justified their decision on Animate the Emptiness (2019) by threading the vibe and texture of the electronics into the very DNA of the music. Oftentimes, Vangelis’ guitar forms a symbiosis with its synthetic counterparts, giving Eva a holistic quality it may otherwise have lacked (see Morbid Angel’s Illud Divinum Insanus for examples of how this could’ve gone very wrong). And Irene delivers a suitably doom-y performance reminiscent of Messa’s Sara Bianchin and Tribunal’s Soren Mourne, haunting and resonant.

And yet, despite Eva’s siren charms and beautifully realized texture, I found myself fighting to stay afloat as I bobbed along. This is not an “active” album—by that, I mean do not expect any uptempo rollicking. Eva wishes to soak into you, a calculating tendril curling up from unconquerable depths to twist and turn inside your mind. Which is well and good, except my consciousness is often far afield of any such infiltration, having been coaxed into periods of forgetfulness by a tracklist which struggles to differentiate its constituent parts in riveting enough ways. Once you hear “The Siren’s Choice,” you’ve heard everything Church of the Sea have on offer here. That’s not to say tracks lift riffs or motifs from each other, just that there are no real surprises on the album, no big highlights to create a sense of journey—especially problematic if one considers Eva’s narrative aims. Even if we overlook such peckish concerns, escaping the languid vortex is difficult, to the point where track names became little more than suggestions of progress as opposed to buoys by which to orient myself on this voyage of proposed rebellion.

Church of the Sea have proven a difficult denomination to pledge myself to. Their sermons are bewitching, for a time, but too quickly they begin to mirror my (admittedly limited) experience in our own terrestrial churches.² The solemn grandeur begins to fade away and my mind wanders, seeking stimuli of a more engaging design. I welcome others to sit at Eva’s pews; just try not to judge if you see me zoning out in the back, or slipping away to see what the crabs are up to.

Recommended tracks: Garden of Eden, Churchyard, Widow
You may also like: Bank Myna, The Silent Era, Drownship, Noctambulist, Kollaps/e
Final verdict: 6/10

Related links: Bandcamp | Spotify | Facebook | Instagram | RateYourMusic

Label: These Hands Melt Records – Bandcamp | Instagram | Official Website

Church of the Sea is:
– Irene (vocals)
– Vangelis (guitars)
– Alex (synths/samples)

1. Unless you count Lilith, but she gets even less love than Eve ↩︎
2. It’s mostly been for funerals, but even the “livelier” times have been full of humdrum ↩︎