The Cure – ‘Songs Of A Lost World’ album review: an exquisite unveiling of impending finality
THE SKINNY: “I’m outside in the dark, wondering how I got so old,” The Cure band leader Robert Smith sings on the closing track to Songs Of A Lost World. His usual gloomy conviction rings on, presenting a reminder that this is precisely where The Cure will always be—lurking, shadowy, in a haze of ominous questions without answers.
Smith has been the torchbearer architect of beautiful, doomy mystery since 1979’s Three Imaginary Boys, crafting the complexities of scorned romance and hollowed hearts in their richly delicate world. Every time, The Cure unveils voids that thrive on vulnerability and suffering while spotlighting the most beautiful experiences and feelings, blending beginnings and ends as rich and convoluted as the luscious middle.
With previous albums, this limbo feels limitless, compounded by yearning souls and broken hearts that embellish the delicious mystery of darkness and uncertainty. In Songs Of A Lost World, the exquisite guitar work and meticulously produced rhythmic cadences complement all the unspoken words, revealing a more immersive side to The Cure, where the haunt of a perturbed mind lingers in the subtleties. Ambience is a prominent force in modern music, and here its vagueness is anything but background.
However, even amid the more melancholic strokes, Songs Of A Lost World has a vibrancy that echoes eras gone by, matching The Cure’s signature motifs without neglecting the album’s broader message. What more is there to say about the record’s intrinsic theme of the beginning of the end? More than usual, Smith forcefully stamps his impending finality, enhancing lyrical precision while loosening his grip on the band’s usual tropes, creating something that feels liberated in every sense.
By the final track, this choice proves that the burdened haze of a makeup-smudged episode is still their forte, even if there’s a slight sense of acceptance peering from the edges.
For fans of: The Cure.
A concluding comment from a loyal fan of The Cure’s earlier albums: “I’ve been waiting for this day for so long. Now it has arrived and I’m every bit as sad as I’d hoped.”
Songs Of A Lost World track by track:
Release date: November 1st | Producer: Robert Smith & Paul Corkett | Label: Polydor / Fiction
‘Alone’: Opening with a long, swirling intro of powerful guitar riffs and relentless drum beats, this track exudes an air of ambiguity, making it unpredictable in nature while remaining unmistakably Smith in style and delivery. “This is the end of every song we sing,” Smith intones with his signature emotional intensity, his melancholic poetry surfacing even more vividly than anything he has done before. [4/5]
‘And Nothing Is Forever’: Wallowing with heartbreaking piano notes and heady orchestral delight, Songs Of A Lost World‘s second segment uplifts with an ethereal instrumental rife with emotional intensity even amid its delicate lines and meticulous strokes. The extensive initial soundscape once again makes the arrival of Smith’s vocals unpredictable, but his appearance enhances the sentimentality, as always, with lines like: “Promise you’ll be with me in the end / Say we’ll be together with no regret / For however far away / You will remember me tonight.” [4.5/5]
‘A Fragile Thing’: “I could die tonight of a broken heart,” Smith sings in the opening line to ‘A Fragile Thing’, proving that the condoning the drunken haze of a makeup-smudged episode is still Smith’s forte, his broad strokes of burdened melancholy painting a raw, vulnerable picture of love’s darker corners. [4/5]
‘Warsong’: This dive into emotional violence and romantic consequences could sit easily on something as darkly inviting as Pornography or Bloodflowers, with bleak landscapes painted by screeching guitars and conflicting arrangements. Moreover, an unmistakable chaotic tension exudes from the speakers long before Smith enters with cutting lines and a voice that hasn’t changed one bit since 1979. [4/5]
‘Drone:Nodrone’: The Cure always thrived on presenting a world where despair and aggression bleed together, but, even after 16 years, the band proves no one does it better with songs like ‘Drone:Nodrone’ taking a more upbeat venture into the depths of desolation. Even a more energetic execution feels propulsive, just like The Cure’s previous rhythmic lines throughout tracks like ‘Just Like Heaven’ and ‘Lovesong’. [3.5/5]
‘I Can Never Say Goodbye’: Coasing the line between triviality and charred hearts, ‘I Can Never Say Goodbye’ leads with spiralling instrumental strokes compounded by a tragic piano progression, culminating in what could perhaps be the most The Cure song ever to be released. “Something wicked this way comes to steal away my brother’s life,” Smith sings, devoting his scorn to the potency of grief and loss. [4/5]
‘All I Ever Am’: Everything that has ever made The Cure great is their address of a nullified existence, where voids thrive on vulnerability and suffering but give rise to some of the most beautiful experiences and feelings, blending beginnings and ends as rich and convoluted as the luscious middle. ‘All I Ever Am’ elicits a bright wave of thunderous music, appearing as a record outlier that ventures deeper into the nucleus of despair than any other track. [4/5]
‘Endsong’: It’s no secret that Smith knows how to end a record, just take a look at some of his most impressive closers of all time, like ‘End’, ‘Pornography’, and ‘Untitled’, and now—’Endsong’. In this case, however, it seems he has excelled in his own craft with a song that spotlights the intensity of each component before hitting a message that feels especially poignant for the band’s current juncture. “I’m outside in the dark, wondering how I got so old,” Smith sings, reminding you that this is precisely where The Cure will always be—lurking, shadowy, in a haze of ominous questions without answers. [4.5/5]
Never Miss A Beat
The Far Out New Music Newsletter
All the latest New Music from the independent voice of culture.
Straight to your inbox.