Time ticks in strange ways. Sometimes it’s slow, syrupy — like the seconds that melt away when you’re fixated on someone. Not just a crush, but the crush. That one person whose smile throws your brain into static. Their character, their presence — you catch yourself daydreaming about being near them, laughing with them, maybe even dancing in some smoky dream-pop film scene scored by a band you only just discovered.

That’s what I felt when I heard “Electric Lash,” the standout track tucked deep into The Church’s 1983 album Séance. It’s the sound of infatuation disguised as post-punk — a love letter wrapped in reverb.

While the band claimed the song was inspired by actual static electricity in the studio (file that under “most Australian explanation ever”), what bleeds through the track is pure romantic electricity. Whether intentional or not, “Electric Lash” pulses like a neon-lit thought bubble — a shimmering, spiraling tribute to desire.

Sonically, it’s got fingerprints from several ‘80s icons. There’s a definite Pretty in Pink-era Psychedelic Furs vibe in the vocal tone and melody. But listen closer, and you’ll catch hints of The Cars in the hooks, the sheen, that bright emotional ambiguity. It’s got that odd mix of melancholy and movement — the kind of song that could play during a movie scene where the protagonist sees someone across the room and everything else fades out. Yeah, it’s that kind of track.

What’s wild is that, lyrically, “Electric Lash” isn’t really about love at all — or at least not in the traditional sense. It’s cryptic, surreal, and half-lost in metaphor. But isn’t that what makes songs like this stick? They let you bring the meaning. For me, it became this romantic fever dream — the idea that beauty can jolt you like static, leaving you dazed and full of questions.

And let’s talk about that sound. The Church — a band whose name might make you think of hardcore punk — instead offers lush, layered, guitar-driven atmosphere. There’s a cinematic haze to “Electric Lash.” The guitars shimmer, the drums drive without dominating, and Steve Kilbey’s voice floats like a thought you can’t shake.

Discovering this band was a happy accident. I judged them by their name and expected something raw, loud, maybe even aggressive. But what I got was elegance and dream-pop emotion dressed in post-punk clothing. A surprise from down under that shouldn’t be hiding in the shadows of ‘80s alt-rock. Not anymore.

“Electric Lash” deserves more than cult status. It deserves rediscovery — to be slipped onto playlists, blasted from car stereos, and maybe even soundtracking someone else’s first look across a crowded room. Because time may keep ticking, but songs like this make you want to stop and feel every second.