The Cure: Twists and Rewards on the Long Road to 'Songs Of A Lost World'
Friday, 08 November 2024
Written by Graeme Marsh
Crawley has changed beyond all recognition since Robert Smith’s family moved to the New Town from Blackpool in the mid-1960s. The West Sussex town’s bandstand, an early spot for a bit of (Easy) Cure entertainment, has been relocated to its memorial gardens, for example, offering a small glimpse at the incremental shifts that add up to a complete transformation over time. That’s something The Cure understand intimately.
They’re also not ones for forgetting where they came from. One early venue in the band’s story, The Rocket, remains in the same place, despite having been renamed in the intervening years. It was on the wall of this pub, now called the Railway, that excitement leapt into the stratosphere when a poster appeared overnight, suggesting something by the name of ‘Songs of a Lost World’ would arrive on November 1, 2024.
The name ‘Songs of a Lost World’ was already known to fans as the title of a potential release and the speculation that followed took the form of the usual enthusiastic debate: would it be an album, after an interminable 16 year wait, or a tour announcement? It was the former, of course.
There were more breadcrumbs. Another cryptic clue arrived when coordinates for Blackpool appeared in a social media post, while further intrigue set in during September when the band invited subscribers to join a WhattsApp group. Within the confines of this chat, the band began to regularly tease lyrics and song snippets, firstly from the album opener, Alone.
Already familiar to heads through a number of live performances, on record the track employs a weeping piano line to underpin its sorrowful heart. It finally kicks in after a lengthy, three minute plus intro — a standard feature of the album — while Smith’s lyrics state that his “hopes and dreams have gone”. This admission, and the acknowledgement of ageing behind it, bleeds throughout the collection.
A further WhattsApp message confirmed the existence of the album before another song snippet arrived in the shape of A Fragile Thing. Perhaps the most commercial track on the LP, it’s one for guitar fans while Smith sings, bare-bones, of being “hurt and sad and lost”. It’s all very Cure — typical words and appropriate music from a band capable of encapsulating and provoking these feelings in their songs. It might be familiar, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hit hard.
Nothing is Forever was the next offering to appear, with Roger O’Donnell’s synth strings carving out its underbelly. It’s more of a love song, with Smith’s words conveying the message that getting old doesn’t matter as long as “we’ll be together”. “If you promise you’ll be with me in the end,” he sings.
Drone:Nodrone benefits from the gutter-dredging filth of Simon Gallup’s rubbery bass, while Reeves Gabrels’ wah-wah guitar wails along indiscreetly. Warsong spits out bitterness and despair at how. “We are born to war,” Smith sings. All I Ever Am boasts a more urgent drumbeat from Jason Cooper’s kit but the tone is still entirely reflective: “I think too much of all that’s gone.” It’s another song that has been road-tested and, in fact, several cuts here date back 15 years or so. That probably says something about their staying power in the final edit.
I Can Never Say Goodbye is a heartbreaking song that touches on the death of Smith’s older brother. Indeed, he was often fighting against his emotions during early performances as he laid his feelings bare, while the song’s gorgeous piano line is a thing of beauty. Lastly, Endsong guides us through an intro lasting more than six minutes before Smith wonders “how I got so old” and “what became of that boy”. It’s a truly majestic way to close an album, pulling so many of its threads together.
There aren’t many bands that could have cast quite as big a spell as the Cure did in the build up to ‘Songs of a Lost World’, and fewer still who could have delivered upon that sense of anticipation. This is an instant classic — it’s been revered as being the best album since their debut in some quarters, and the best since their widely accepted 1989 peak ‘Disintegration’ in others.
Truthfully, though, it has its own identity. Smith still sings from a position of gloom and introspection but this time it’s through a lens of experience. Rather than being driven by fear and dread-laced expectation, he is both emotionally-attuned and philosophical. The passage of time may have changed many things over the past 50 years, but The Cure’s position as one of the best bands in the world remains in place, weathered but unbroken.
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