The Cure – Songs of a Lost World Review

Robert Smith has not so much hinted at finality for The Cure as much as he has spelled it out for us. We are closer to the end than the peak. Understanding this and the flood of emotions when a frontman believes he will not make it another five years is powerful, as is latest album, Songs of a Lost World. Eerie sensations overwhelm this from cover to song to conception. Bagatelle. This sculpture is not defined. If it were then the monumental courage Janez Pirnat showed in his sculpture and The Cure in contorting their sound to inevitably bold yet melancholic understandings of time running out, would not be possible. We hear what we want to hear in Songs of a Lost World, an album all about acceptance. Reflective flourishes from Smith do not spark a sickly, melancholic style but a booming immediacy. A band in charge of what remains for their future, and enjoying the ride, making it a spectacle.  

Opener Alone is staggering. The Cure’s lead single for Songs of a Lost World hears the band desire what is no longer possible. Understanding this loss and adapting to what is now in its place is all part of the charm. It is an album which lingers on the tranquillity of heartbreak. Remembrance forms And Nothing is Forever. Where Smith is with his writing is clear. He is preparing for the end and wants to put whatever he can in place, to right the wrongs of his past and coast off with a clear conscience and mind. Staggering guitar work and the shimmering additions make this a song, and an album, without ties to the world. Smith is on a plain of his own, making amends and reconciling with the past. But it is not just reflection which guides Songs of the Lost World, much of it holds firm to the consistent innovation Smith is hellbent on providing.  

Songs of a Lost World is not reflective wistfulness. The Cure still has an instrumental edge which separates them from contemporary legends. Warsong sounds just as its title suggests. A wailing and glorious guitar solo backed by a few string-plucking moments and a nervy, progressive-rock-like direction. Punchy numbers like Drone:Nodrone is more about what identity is than what The Cure represents. They are ever-shifting and adapting their sound to new meanings, here it is the confidence once held sapped away and regrown, meticulously and not without struggle. Those grinding guitar moments and some sharp bass work from Simon Gallup are intense additions, exceptional-sounding riffs which hear The Cure slip into some of their best instrumental work to exorcise their regrets before it is too late.  

When you have a creative license like The Cure, to elongate or punctuate your feelings of isolation in the face of death with staggering instrumental work, why not take it? Songs of a Lost World is as whole as an album can get. Every song fits into one another with a sense of purpose, to the point where extracting any of them individually breaks the very concept. Where Songs of a Lost World may sound consistently reflective, it is more a step into an uncertain future for Smith, who has opened up on the passage of time and the bleak outlook on how many years he has left. I Can Never Say Goodbye is an obvious one – but carried with the conviction of a man whose work still has much to give, plenty more to reveal.  

The Cure marks an outstanding return to the studio and there is more to come, Smith says. Where it takes them next is not the objective of Songs of a Lost World but it is an exceptional album which paves the road towards a fulfilling conclusion for a band nearing their fiftieth. An accomplished and ever-evolving sound can be heard here, the soft pangs of nostalgia we may hold for The Cure are upended and thrown aside to focus on a sound which, as album closer Endsong finds, is an articulate but booming route through the tender display Smith has honed. Spectacular in every sense of the word. An instrumentally and vocally rich piece from The Cure which depends on a few similar spots of sound, adapting and working them with a necessary and often lively thrill. We wonder what becomes of the people, of the places, we spent our formative years and curse ourselves forever moving on from it. Nobody holds this feeling or tone better than Smith, whose work here is staggering.