THE CURE- 'Songs of a Lost World'

It's been sixteen years since the band's last release, and they sound as good as ever.

Nov 05, 2024

Photo courtesy of Fiction, Lost Music, Universal, Polydor, and Capitol Records

Good Morning!

Today we’re taking a look at the The Cure’s latest release, Songs Of A Lost World.

The idea that in 2024, one can walk into a physical store and buy a physical copy of a new release by The Cure feels like the punchline to a joke that you have to be a certain age to get. Indeed, it’s been 16 years since the band’s last release and 35-and-change since their previous masterpiece, Disintegration.

There’s no point in burying the lede here; if you liked Disintegration, Songs of a Lost World will check a lot of boxes for you. This latest release has got a similar gravity. The soundscapes are lush, and the production is exquisite. If you’re hoping for a “Friday I’m In Love” redux, you’ll be bummed.

This is a record for this time of year, with its shorter days and longer nights. Most of the lyrics on the record deal with mortality, both in the literal sense and as it might apply to things like the demise of relationships. To everything, there’s a season, and Songs of a Lost World is an autumn album. The recurrent theme here is that everything is ephemeral and, given a long enough timeline, ceases to exist. It’s a reflective record that accepts the passing of time and the inevitable end of everything, even if it doesn’t like it. These are not songs for in the club, nor on the beach.

I mean, the first words we hear on opening track “Alone” are:

This is the end of every song that we sing
The fire burned out to ash
And the stars grown dim with tears
Cold and afraid
The ghosts of all that we've been
We toast with bitter dregs to our emptiness

Oof. Mint Car this ain’t.

“And Nothing Is Forever” is gorgeous, with a simple piano intro and Robert Smith’s vocals floating on a wave of lovely strings. No one is better at letting a song build for a few minutes before the vocals kick in than Robert Smith and The Cure. “A Fragile Thing” is the sort of melancholy that’s kept fans coming back for decades. If forced to pick, this would be my choice for the track that draws the shortest line back to Disintegration.

With its catchy riffs and beat, Drone: NoDrone is the closest anything on the record comes to being radio-friendly.

Smith has a knack for creating incredible closing tracks, and “Endsong” is one of his best yet. Equal parts closing argument and declarative statement, it’s… a lot. And it’s amazing. When Smith says, “I’m outside in the dark / Wondering how I got so old / It’s all gone, it’s all gone,” you feel it.

I keep referring to Disintegration, but really, it’s more for me to articulate my thoughts than anything else. There are similarities, but this is anything but a recycling of that album. Any nostalgia—and there is some, to be sure— rests with the listeners. It’s something to keep in mind. In my case, I kept cycling back to that teenager listening to in 1989. It was—at least for me— several lifetimes ago. Meanwhile, Robert Smith doesn’t seem to have aged a day. He still has that same unmistakable voice that filled my headphones all those years ago.

Time may be screaming by, but nothing here is hurried or undercooked. Everything is brought to full fruition, with no detail left uncovered. The shortest track here is just over 4 minutes. Three are over six. One is over ten.

For my money, the gloomier, darker corners of the band’s discography are home to their best work. If you agree, Songs of a Lost World will rank right up there with the band’s best.

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