Melancholy Goes Up To 11 

The Cure’s First Album in 16 years Might Be Their Best

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The Cure’s new album is finally here, and it might be their best work yet.  We have waited 16 long years for this record to come to fruition and now that it has transpired, we can simply listen. Listen to its brilliance, its morbid wonderfulness, its bastion of ethereal soundscapes and its solemnly sentimental search for hope.  This masterpiece is the weighted blanket we needed to slumber in front of the fireplace and forget about the world for a while.  It’s our warmth and our strength and our reluctance to deal all together in a black little package.  The legendary trailblazers of goth are completely back on top with Songs Of A Lost World. 

The album is full of sound many well produced sounds that help frame the lyrics in a symphonic way.  There are long build ups and bridges before words are uttered.  A landscape of sweet and somber melodies encapsulates the macabre of frontman Robert Smith’s soft voice. This is the first studio album for guitarist Reeves Gabrels and he understood the assignment.  His waning tones help build an anticipation and a tension that is then broken by Smith’s croons. 

  This is ‘Alone’ and is the first track on the album.  It invites us into the realm of solitude and reintroduces us to the masters of this craft.  “This is the end/ of every song we sing/ the fire burned out to ash/ and the stars/ grown grim with tears” are the first airy words we hear contained in the breath and from the mind of our lead singer.  Jason Cooper pounds the drums behind it all and paces the pain with a control that is incendiary and soothing.  It is he and bassist Simon Gallup who keep our heart in rhythm and help us unlock the doors, as we navigate this ghostly mansion of an LP.  

Eight rooms, or eight songs, comprise this labyrinthine escapism of music that the band will make linear.  ‘And Nothing is Forever’ is track two and the opening is so pure and brilliantly joyous.  A musical loop of keys and synth orchestrated by Roger O’Donell and Robert Smith lull us into an abyss of Catharism as a light brushing of electric guitar dances and moves us forward in our journey. Protected by bouncing luminosity, we can’t sit idly by, even if we want to.  The open to this track is one of the longer instrumental ensembles that if heard on a Cure record, yet it might not even be long enough.  I want it as the ringtone in my head. 

We make our way into what will most likely be the takeaway track for this album.  The song is ‘A Fragile Thing’ and it is quintessentially The Cure.  The emotional impact of this song is undeniable.  The dark Cure is the best Cure in. My opinion.  I want to hurt, and I want to feel when I drop the needle.  A Mike Myers-esque, Halloween movie soundtrack starts us off.  Then the word-Smith lets us in to his heartbreak: “Every time you kiss me i could cry’/ she said/ don’t tell me how you miss me/ I could die tonight of a broken heart”.  There is a popping punch from our drummer that makes sure that you feel the backstabbing.  Smith digs deeper into his bag of black Scrabble tiles and spells out “Nothing you can do to change it back’ she said/ ‘Nothing you can do but sing/ this love is a fragile thing”.  

‘War Song’ has much heavier overtones.  It’s an industrial rock themed cry of misery. Distortion and dramatic complexity of the mix create a feeling of a metallic prison cell and Robert is banging on its walls. The war is that of our own existence. We scream for change, but rarely do. Out of the abrasive background his words shimmer.  “I want your death/ You want my life/ we tell each other lies to hide the truth/ and hate ourselves for everything we do”.  Then, the repetition in the line “we are born to war” serves as a powerful and reminding refrain, underlining the inevitability of conflict in human existence, and making it clear that the song is not just a flippant observation, but rather a deeply haunting introspection of the human psyche. 

Side Two starts with the perspective that Smith has lived this long without getting any of the answer that he thought he may have obtained by now.  It seems that he might be okay without solving the mysteries of the universe.  There can be fulfillment without enlightenment.  We must accept more and maybe just enjoy the ride some. Smith writes, “So it’s all/ I don’t know… i really don’t/ and all/ think so… but maybe not/ and all/ Could be a case of me/ misplacing my identity?” The song, says Smith, was inspired by a drone that flew over his garden, throwing him into a confusion of doubt. “Was I being spied on?”, Smith doesn’t know what to think, and not knowing what to think is almost worse than being watched. Musically, it is quite different than the other songs on this bill, but it certainly works. 

‘I Can Never Say Goodbye’ get us back to the melancholy and another brilliantly conducted instrumental introduction to the unlit halls of our emotional construct. This is my Cure. The poetry of Smith may be at its height here in this tune.  “Shadows growing closer now/ and there is nowhere left to hide. And i can’t break/ this dreamless sleep/ however hard i try/ I’m down on my knees/ and empty inside”.  The piano is gracious to accompany these words to a gravesite of wanted goodbyes. Softness is the theme is this lovely overture of peaceful thoughts that cannot transpire. 

Since 1978, when The Cure formed, they have always seemed older to me than they really were, but now they are older and the insight that they have ingested is recognizable more than ever.  It took 16 years to make this album because they wanted it to be right.  We know that Robert Smith craves perfection as do all the great artists and he didn’t want to just give the world “something”.  He wanted to give then “everything”, and in this album he showed us his heart.  He cares.  He always has.  However, over the last few years he has lost more than ever and it’s transparent in these eight songs.  

“When you’re younger, you romanticize [death], even without knowing it. Then it starts happening to your immediate family and friends and suddenly it’s a different thing,” he said. “It’s something that I struggled with lyrically- how to put this into the songs? I feel like I am different person than I was when we last made an album. I wanted that to come through”. That sense of fragility and awareness of mortality is apparent, as Smith, now 65, faces the passage of time with a newfound urgency. 

The last two pieces of this record are placed here with complete intention. ‘All I Ever Am’ embraces the recent loss. It is a look at how we handle the passage of time and the power of memory. The persevering strength of Gallup and Cooper make this song memorable. It is riddled with hope and coping.  I personally love the line, “toward a dark and empty stage/ where i can sing of all i know”.  Smith lets us know about his process and that is endearing. He goes on to tell us in the finality of the tune, “I waste all my world like this/ intending time and memories/ and all for fear of what I’ll find/ if I just stop/ And empty out all the ghosts/ and all the dreams/ all i hold to/ in belief/ that all I ever am/ is somehow never quite/ all i am now/ and all for fear of what I’ll find/ if i just stop”.  

The last song is aptly titled ‘End Song’ and it is now in my top tier listing of best songs to complete an album (where going to have to make that a question on social media).  If the album goes into the annuals of history as a musical masterpiece I will say, along with many others, that this piece may be the reason. It is a 10-minute plus masterclass in emotional build up that crescendo’s with a visceral deep dive into oneself.  The synths float in clouds of ecstasy and are lifted by drumbeats that carry deliberate messages of aspiration from an immanent ending. “I’m outside in the dark, wondering how I got so old.” He expressed, “It’s all gone, nothing left of all I loved.” The lyrics are circling back to that introspective analysis of what it is to be human, and it ties us back to the opener, ‘Alone’. “I will lose myself in time” ‘Endsong’ continues, “It won’t be long/ It’s all gone/ it’s all gone/ it’s all gone/ Left alone with nothing at the end of every song/ Left alone with nothing at the end of every song/ Left alone with nothing, nothing/ Nothing/ Nothing/ Nothing.” 

It’s greedy to ask for another record, but apparently Robert Smith and The Cure are not done yet as they are producing one more (?) album, a documentary and are set to tour in 2025.  These lads continue to give and lend solace to shared experience.  I can’t wait to see them live one more time (or three).