Fans of The Cure have been treated to a grim preview of Songs of a Lost World, their first album release in 16 years. During their recent global tour, Robert Smith and his ominous team performed five pieces from the upcoming album, including a particularly poignant show in Dublin, December 2022. The performance stood out, as Smith’s pre-holiday cheer contrasted the sombre mood of the new music – a striking difference from the bright summer of 2018, when Smith expressed concerns over depleting creativity to a British tabloid.
He stated, “I believe that only a limited amount of times can certain feelings be voiced in song. I’ve attempted composing about topics not linked to my emotions – but they feel dry, overly thought-out, and they don’t resonate with who I am.”
Clearly, something shifted since then and Songs of a Lost World showcases Smith at his most poignantly poignant. Listening to this album is an exquisite dive into sadness, as the singer deals with the recent loss of his parents and brother, Richard, within a short time span.
These tragic events have propelled him into a fresh reality. Despite the inherent melancholy, there’s a surprising element of novelty in this album. It portrays him waking up one day to find he has been transformed.
Yet, even though these losses have sparked a surge of creativity – it’s clear that now more than ever, music is his refuge – this album is deeply rooted in The Cure’s sorrowful identity. The grand guitar slides bring to mind the stoic ambience of their 1985 release – The Head on the Door, and Disintegration from 1989. Meanwhile, the sheer crushing sadness of the lyrics positions it side-by-side with their 1982 release Pornography, as another of The Cure’s most despair-ridden creations.
In the heart of night, it shifts like an imposing, unyielding glacier, bringing an intense, lingering coldness. We present a detailed analysis associated with the tracks of the album slated for launching on the 1st of November, a Friday.
1: Alone
The debut single has sparked anticipation among the enthusiasts of The Cure, igniting speculations that the band is returning to form after the disappointment of their 2008 release, 4:13 Dream. According to the rather critical review by Pitchfork, the band seemed “complacent and content”. However, with this track, Smith showcases his mastery of emotive introspection, finally making his appearance with a melancholic riff two and a half minutes in. Its melancholic brilliance is captivating, with the lyrics hinting at the emotional journey the listener is about to undertake, as Smith asserts, “Every song we have sung ends here. The flame has been reduced to ashes, the stars shed tears and lose their shine.”
2: And Nothing Is Forever
This riveting six-minute-plus lament starts with guitar strings, piano notes, and an erratic guitar sequence from Reeves Gabrels, the former colleague of David Bowie who joined The Cure in 2012. The autumnal atmosphere is underscored with dynamic drum rhythm from Jason Cooper, offering a sense of Phil Collins navigating the vast expanse of the cosmos. Smith’s voice comes in at two minutes and fifty seconds and enhances the prevailing cool tones, addressing words to an unreachable cherished one. His verse mourns, “I sense my world ageing. Will you assure your presence with me finally?”
3: A Fragile Thing
The bass player, Simon Gallup, leads as the LP accelerates with a goth jam that mirrors the fear found in Cure classics such as A Forest. Smith finds himself during a demanding phase, perhaps impacted by the gloom of lockdown? He contemplates whether he is fated to endure solitude and sorrow, stating, “This solitary period has left me wounded, despondent and aimless.”
4: Warsong
Reflecting the charm of The Cure’s much-loved hit Lovesong, this shiny and unmistakably 80s project sees Smith’s nebulous guitar intertwining with the styles of Pink Floyd and Cocteau Twins. It kicks off with a persistent droning note, decorated with a spasmodic guitar. The lyrics jovially mimic those of Taylor Swift’s Shake It Off. Just kidding: it returns to the album’s motifs of seclusion and slow-burning tension as Smith confides to someone dear to him, “we fib to each other to obscure the reality”. The listener is the one who desperately requires comfort and support.
5: Drone No Drone
The Cure invokes the aura of their devotees Nine Inch Nails in an infrequent fast-paced track highlighting what resembles the nearest thing on the LP to a catchy refrain with Smith intoning “Down, down, down … Yeah … I’m pretty much done”. Please Robert, don’t utter such words–there are still three more songs to come!
6: I Can Never Say Goodbye
With an over six minutes duration, Smith takes a slow pace on a track that predominantly focuses on the sorrowful guitar and icy keyboard. However, the vocalist emerges round about two minutes in, expressing his pent-up emotions on a mournful ballad that directly deals with his brother’s demise. Smith wails, “No place left to conceal… Down on my knees, void inside,” . “Something malicious approaches, sealing my brother’s life – I can never bid farewell.” This brutal contemplation on grief might be the most dramatic moment in the album (and admittedly, that’s an understatement).
7: All I Ever Am
The funeral-like speed slightly revs up amidst piles of humming guitar and a hefty riff that echoes New Order circa their 1985 album Low-Life (which was in itself substantially influenced by The Cure). The lyrics could almost invite sing-along–if they weren’t so desiring to lament on your shoulder (“all I ever am is never quite all I am”).
8: Endsongs
The Cure initiated their most acclaimed record, Disintegration, as admitted by Smith, their pinnacle of success, with the authoritative tune, Plainsong. Presently, they strive to mirror this achievement with the 10-minute single, Endsong, a stinging, pulsating bellow in which Smith, presently 65 years old, confronts his ever-increasing age and finds it staring him in the face. He passionately expresses his realisation of his ageing, encapsulated in his lyrics, “In the pitch-black darkness… pondering how I turned so aged,” he melodiously recites. “All has disappeared… wholly empty… everything I treasured.” This track, like the majority of this remarkable album, is considerably poignant, although its melancholy can be overpowering at times. It serves as an apt ending to this vinyl, which is void of hope and optimism, presenting instead an unceasing onslaught of storm clouds and the impending threat of another tempest.