It’s not a phase.
For The Cure frontman Robert Smith, being emo is a lifestyle.
His band is no exception. The British rock outfit has been linked to a lot of sounds over the course of its 46-year career, spanning 14 albums that include new wave, alt-rock post-punk and — probably most iconically — gothic rock.
The Cure is commonly seen as the pioneers of gothic rock, introducing the sound with the 1982 album “Pornography” and perfecting it on the 1989 classic “Disintegration” — which ranked number 116 on Rolling Stone’s list of Top 500 Albums of All Time.
The Cure made bleakness into an aesthetic. Long intros of drum loops and ominous piano keys, airy synths frequently accompanied by a set of strings that lead into reverb-y guitars were made complete with Smith’s despondent vocals — who seems to be pleading just as often as he is singing.
The Cure recaptures that sound in their 14th album, “Songs Of A Lost World,” which was released on Nov. 1 and earned the band its first number-one album on the UK charts since 1992’s “Wish.”
“Songs Of A Lost World” is nostalgic, composed primarily of the same atmospheric gothic sound reminiscent of the band’s aforementioned albums. The tone is similarly bleak — with an older, greyer Smith singing about loss, change and hopelessness.
If this sounds familiar, that’s because it is.
The Cure manages to recapture some of its classic sound without just replicating it. While “Songs Of A Lost World” is nothing entirely new, it is genuine to where Smith is right now. Yes, he is still sad — but the Smith that we hear is one afflicted by personal losses and his growing age.
It would have been easy for the band to phone in the album, serving as yet another example of an old and washed-out band trying to recapture its old sound and get a quick payday. But this band isn’t washed — even if they are old. The Cure doesn’t make music pointlessly. The band’s music has always been shaped by the life events and struggles of Smith, and this album is no exception. In the 16 years since the last studio album, Smith’s older brother and parents have died — events that led to the creation of — and influenced the overall tone of — the whole album.
From the first few moments of the opening track “Alone,” you get a feel for the type of album this is going to be. The Cure’s iconic melancholy guitars, unrelenting slow percussion and a mournful piano, with keys that feel as if they are crawling on you. “Alone” was inspired by the Ernest Dowson poem “Dregs,” which explores the themes of loss, regret and the inevitability of death — themes Smith reflects on throughout the entirety of the project.
“Broken-voiced lament to call us home,” Smith sings. “This is the end of every song we sing, alone.”
The atmosphere of “Songs Of A Lost World” is also entrancing. The Cure are masters of letting the track breathe. Instrumentals build up, draw you into the verse then cut back, allowing the weight of the song to sit with you before another emotional volley. Listening to “Songs Of A Lost World” is like riding a rollercoaster: you are strapped in with nowhere to go, at the mercy of the ride. Smith takes you on slow build-ups that result in crashing emotional descents into his psyche.
In “Songs Of A Lost World,” Smith offers more than a glimpse into his world, fully immersing you into an honest look into his mind. As someone who tends towards optimism, experiencing Smith’s disillusionment and emotional complexity through song captivated me. He isn’t just sad; he is mourning — not only the loss of his family members but also the innocence in which he once viewed life. He isn’t trying to prescribe his current outlook onto the listener, instead offering his raw emotions in solidarity of those who are also lost. Smith includes others in his mourning process to let them know that they are not alone.
Smith goes more in-depth about the loss of his brother in the song “I Can Never Say Goodbye.” It opens with a haunting piano loop, broken by crashing cymbals and slowly building up with slow guitars, dripping with distortion. Smith describes the supernatural power of death and how helpless he is against it when watching it take his brother — unable to even say goodbye
“Something wicked this way comes / To steal my brother’s life,” Smith sings. “Something wicked this way comes / I can never say goodbye.”
Smith’s performance on this album is stellar. His voice sounds as good as ever — despite being 65 — and yet his age is what makes his lyrics so compelling. Throughout this project, Smith is struggling to say goodbye — to his family members and the life that he once knew with them. Through all the other sad music he has made, his family shone as a bright spot for him. “Songs Of A Lost World” is an old, disillusioned Smith trying to find his way in a world that he does not recognize.
This theme is explored most explicitly on the album’s closer, fittingly titled “Endsong,” a 10-minute slow burn where Smith acknowledges the end of his life as he once knew it, grappling with his age and living in a world where all the things he cared about are gone. “Endsong” is reminiscent of the title track off 1989’s “Disintegration,” where Smith wrestles with his addictive love for his toxic lifestyle — knowing that it will tear him apart, but unable to stop. The two tracks feature similar rolling drum patterns and some of the most tragic vocals Smith has ever recorded.
“Endsong” feels like a funeral procession — saying goodbye to something that was taken from you and then trying to resume life with what once defined it now gone. It was inspired by a night when Smith and his father were stargazing after the landing of Apollo 11, excited and hopeful for what lay ahead. Now, his dad is gone and Smith can only seem to focus on what lies behind him.
“It’s all gone,” Smith sings. “Nothing left of what I loved / No hopes, no dreams, no world / No, I don’t belong.”
Music is the one thing yet to leave Smith’s side. Listening to “Songs Of A Lost World,” it is clear that Smith’s ability to form an emotional connection with his listeners has never left. Even if there is nothing left of what Smith loved, he is leaving us with yet another heart-wrenching project that is loved by many — even if that music is fueled by a tormented soul.
“It’s easier for me to be closer to heaven than ever feel whole again,” Smith sings in “Disintegration.”
That was over 3 decades ago. Smith is now 65, twice as close to death, and seems to be just as broken as ever.