I’m writing this the day the new album by The Cure landed.
I’ve only ever bought one album by them. One that vies for the title of their worst / most unnecessary album.
That was Mixed Up, the 1990 remix album which Robert Smith referred to as a bit of fun after Disintegration.
That could mark me out as a non fan. True Cure fans may weep at my folly.
I can’t explain why I never got round to investing any further. It’s not that Mixed Up put me off. I really enjoyed it, but as much as I enjoyed their other work I never got round to buying anything else.
Since streaming kicked in, I’ve fully investigated the back catalogue.
Over almost 30 years from Three Imaginary Boys in 1979,
to 4:13 Dream in 2008
They’ve a rich and rewarding history.
Their return has been a long time coming. A new album was touted for 2014 and again in 2019 with recording apparently finished on two albums, one dark and one light. The first for release, the dark offering, was announced in March 2022 as Songs Of A Lost World. Only two and a half years later: and it’s finally arrived.
Despite my lack of prior investment in their career, I’ve been anticipating this album like nothing else this year.
Perhaps it’s that the early word was that it would be something special.
A record in the rich tradition of late period dances with mortality. A band that has always dealt with desolation now ideally placed to grow into a new era burdened by uncertainty.
Their image is of brooding, black clad, gothic drama delving into the darkness of human experience. Which belies the fact that they also have a way with a tune. Some of their most memorable (and commercially successful) songs display a lightness of touch and pop smarts as with “Lovecats,” “Friday I’m In Love” and “The 13th.”
Songs Of A Lost World does not offer light relief.
It gives in to the full gamut of despair and trauma. It is very ‘The Cure.‘
I can’t imagine non fans being enticed but it’s themes, inspired by their advancing age, should carry along existing fans.
The glacial progress towards release is perfectly matched by “Alone,” the opening track and first song released to preview the album.
It opens up into a lush, ethereal sound that slowly wends its way towards the vocals. Even though it takes half of the 6:48 run time to get to them it doesn’t feel prolonged. After such a long wait for an album, it’s not a problem that Robert Smith keeps us waiting a little longer while we’re swept up in the intro.
One feature of the album is that it takes its time. There are only eight songs, but that allows them to cut out the filler while giving those tracks time to breathe. Only one intro comes in at under a minute:
The apogee being album closer “Endsong,” the song as a whole weighs in at 10:23 long.
The intro becomes ever more hypnotic as it stretches out into eternity taking up 6:30 of the run time. Unhurried it contrasts with the discord of the lyrics as once Robert does break his silence it’s to declaim the treachery of time in taking away the promise of youth, leaving nothing in its place.
It’s impossible to pick a standout track, each one is a fresh punch to the guts.
On the other hand there’s nothing that is superfluous and despite the extravagant song lengths none of it is unwarranted. The music is lush, layered and powerful.
“Warsong” at the heart of the album demonstrates this power to the full. The music is a massive, glowering instrument of oppression. The perfect fit to accompany the brutality of the lyrics which detail the bitterness of two people tearing each other apart.
Across the album, the words depict a man standing in the debris of his life, seemingly bereft as he takes in who and what he’s lost. Disintegration would be a good fit as an album title but that was already taken.
The elongated intros means lyrics are used sparingly. Still, they engulf you with their depth of feeling. They wrestle with love, loss, mortality. The breaking down and breaking apart of things that were once held dear.
There is a precision to them, not a word wasted and imagery that is arresting and original.
From “Alone:”
When it comes to loss, it lasers in with pinpoint accuracy to Robert’s personal experience, informed by the deaths of his parents and brother. Nowhere more than on “I Can Never Say Goodbye” which struggles to come to terms with losing his brother:
The motifs suggest an ending, even in the first line of “Alone” as Smith says. “This is the end of every song that we sing.” Perhaps given the lengthy gestation it did feel as though there would be no more. The wait puts Smith into his mid 60s and ever more stranded by the passing of time and of people.
The album concludes with Robert stating he’s “left alone with nothing at the end of every song. Left alone with nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.”
It points to someone realising there’s nowhere left to go.
The Cure dichotomy, an ability to inhabit songs with this desolation and then turn around in the next album with something to wash away the bleak vision.
Smith’s voice hasn’t aged. At times it cracks as he addresses the emotional heft but the same old strength exists to assert itself over the power of the music.
This is an album that makes sense with age – and a realisation of the lack of permanence.
In the time since their last album I’ve racked up major life events:
Got married.
Had a child who has just become a teenager.
And progressed from my early 30s to late 40s.
I’m nearly 20 years behind Smith. But the themes resonate.
The person I was last time The Cure were here has become something different. Even more so than when I was a teenager and they were in their pomp.
Loss means something else now. My Great grandparents died before I was 10, when I was too young to appreciate their importance in my story. Life rushed by in a mess of excitement; there was always something new to look forward to. My first grandparent passed when I was 16, the next when I was 28. The emotions were more real and heightened by their part in my past. Still the future was a wide open space to run towards.
Since the last Cure album I lost my mother in 2013, an aunt and uncles and my other grandparents, the last of them early this year. The lyrical musings on loss and the way time has taken its toll make sense.
Where once I sailed through adversity sure in the knowledge there was so much more of life to come, time has wreaked havoc with the certainty of youth.
Instead of only looking forward, I now look back as well.
There’s a joy in the memories, but tempered: by the gaps left by the people no longer present. Knowing that there will be no more new memories to make with them. Boundless enthusiasm is no longer the default option. Time is now finite.
It isn’t an easy listen. It provokes difficult thoughts and feelings. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go there. All that went before contributes to who we are now.
My own experience doesn’t reach the depths expressed by Robert Smith.
I don’t know how it would be possible to cope with that level of despair. By all accounts he’s happily married, but his ability to portray the devastation of love failed and left behind is gut-wrenching.
I imagine some will think this all sounds like a caricature of what people expect from The Cure.
Misery and despair… extrapolated to the n’th degree.
This is a glorious album, though. It has an air of finality – which would be fitting.
Hopefully this isn’t the end. But given that its taken so many years to shepherd this to its release, there’s no guarantee the other lighter companion album touted will appear. If it doesn’t come? Then we have this, and should be thankful it finally emerged.
It lifts The Cure out of heritage act status. Unlike other bands of similar or older vintage: it’s not just going through the motions.
It’s as meaningful and vital as anything they’ve done before.
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Very well done. This is from the heart, and an example of why we all can relate to passionate music fans. Two takeaways:
First, I am only a cursory fan of The Cure; I know they exist, but outside of “the hits,” that’s about it. So, JJ has inspired me to spend some time with them and see what I can learn.
Second, and this is on me: after pulling an all-nighter with the news and re-reading this article on this particular morning: seeing phrases like, “misery and despair… extrapolated to the n’th degree,” “Hopefully this isn’t the end,” and “,,,a fresh punch to the guts,” well…
Sorry, JJ. I know it wasn’t your intent whatsoever. But right now, my pareidolia is off the chart.
I’m with you, mt58. I haven’t heard it yet, but JJ makes it sound the the album we need today.
And for the next four years.
Thanks mt58. Won’t lie, I had to look up the word pareidolia. I’ll try and get it into the team meeting tomorrow but it could be a struggle.
I would have said that the real angst and doom laden stuff may be worth avoiding at the moment but seems like it fits the mood. Understandably so. I feel gutted and it’s not even my fight.
The Cure do signpost the real dark stuff in the album titles. Pornography, Disintegration, Bloodflowers and now this one. They’re not exactly a barrel of laughs the rest of the time but there’s light amongst the dark.
I didn’t stream it. I’m going to buy it. The rollout seemed to extend beyond a year. The new Prefab Sprout album was supposed to come out in 2019. Still crossing my fingers.
Yes. He’s married. I wish I had a recording of me explaining that you can be straight and wear makeup to my co-workers at the newspaper, production side, so blue-collar, and being in Hawaii, very provincial. I compared it to the falsetto-type of singing found in traditional Hawaiian music.
Nobody was particularly fond of that comparison.
I’ve no idea what they’ve even been doing for the last 5 years given that in 2019 they said recording was complete. Covid gives an excuse for a year of that time but as for the rest, maybe they’re just lazy.
Thank you for this wonderful piece.
There is only a few months difference between my age and Robert Smith’s, and we have been through much of the same trauma, including losing a sibling. So much of this resonates with me, even without the additional existential dread that many of us are feeling right now. Not having been a huge fan of The Cure, I might have missed this, and I think that I really need it.
Thanks LTC. More than anything they’ve ever done it strikes me as something that would resonate. Time is both a wonderful and a terrible thing. Brings us so much but also takes away. I found it an immersion listen. Hope it brings you comfort.
Good review JJ, I admit that I haven’t heard any full album from them and I like the songs from their commercial peak. I’ve only listened one of the new songs, but as soon as I can, I’ll try to listen the album.
Thanks Edith. There’s a lot to go back and discover if you do like what you here. They’re not always for everyone but the songs from their commercial peak do make for a very good Greatest Hits.