Questioning Life and Death: Smith and co return with their fourteenth studio record.
It’s hard to dispute the colossal cultural impact The Cure had and continue to have within our personal soundtracks. Operating for upwards of 40 years amassing to fourteen studio records, The Cure’s gothic post-rock/new wave humdingers hold immeasurable weight against the familial backdrop of the ’80s and ’90s, full of adolescence and repent one more outcry before throwing your Walkman at the wall. Despite Smith’s countless objections to being categorisable (he’s a punk afte all), The Cure are viewed as of the form’s most definitive bands, paving the way for the likes of Siouxsie and Echo to follow suit.
The sorts of Boys Don’t Cry and Just Like Heaven are cyclical anthems that get their fair share of rotary spins on films and at weddings. They’re an immovable object in a constantly evolving culture – and their music remains a constant heartbeat throughout.
The fact that they’ve been active since ’76 – with a few mere hiatuses along the way – says all you need to know. It’s a set-up too possibly good to ignore. The likes of Robert Smith know that.
Now, off the back of their only live show at the Troxy in London, aptly titled “Show of a Lost World” earlier this year, we take a look at their new project, Songs for a Lost World,” The Cure’s first new album in 16 years: which for many, has been long overdue.
Spanning just eight songs in under 50 mins, the album is a tapestry to those audiophiles and astute fans who appreciate an one-and-out project like this one. The album plays host to plenty of Cure staples: amazing depth, long pensive instrumental build-ups and Smith’s unique voice – still as strong as ever. It’s far more broody and foreboding than its sibling counterparts of Pornography and Bloodflowers but there comes time between these releases. And with a lot of time – comes with a hell of thinking.
While short, it’s important all the same. An apparent salute and sign-off to your entire constant being, it strikes a familiar chord with their fan base who have aged all the same as their favourite band. Dealing with timely issues like aging, dying and loss of loved ones is an existential cross we all come to bear in our lifetime and Songs of a Lost World dote on this thread beautifully – crafting an internal theme consistently through its 8-track tenure. It’s questioning remarks to life and death in general hold weight to anyone in our lifetime, it’s certainly not ageist to any community or listening post. A Fragile Thing is a hopeful romanticism to love. It’s one of the most powerful – and yet when used and abused, it can be the most fragile thing. All I Ever Am is a timeless trajectory into the soul while Endsong – a 10-minute quarrel in dealing with the loss of loved ones – is so so powerful.
It’s certainly not an album you can stick on in the background to pass the time or work out to or act out your frivolous chores to. The album – plunged in grief and pain – is too heavy for that. To the ear that’s not really listening, it’ll just feel like one long song. This is an album very much designated for yourself alone in the dark somewhere. It’s deeply tragic, evidently devastating but all the more beautiful – this is The Cure at their best.
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