Snubbed at the Brit Awards for what was arguably the most important work out of all of those nominated, The Cure fans can take solace in the underdog appeal of the Robert Smith-fronted group. They are never quite where fans think they ought to be. Not the best, but in the conversation. Who cares about awards, anyway? The work is its own reward, and considering the lacklustre response Smith had in the past to being in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, losses at ceremonies celebrating contemporary releases is hardly going to affect future works, or those from the past. The Cure, despite writing some all-time greats, has not been paid their dues. Works like Faith offer a tremendous, fantasy-adjacent struggle, an album which charts their continued growth and immaculate, moody world-building.
Faith is such a great album. Returning to it years on from an impassioned listen is a treat. There is a volatility to Primary which even now adapts the internal rage, the stresses of the everyday. Years of experience yet nothing to show for it, Faith is burning through those frustrations with a post-punk tinge. Sardonic wordplay clashes with the white album cover, the sense of purity mixed in with what was, at the time, an alternate musical style. The Cure has not lost its vicious edge, not in the slightest. Even now they are established as legends, as headliners capable of tapping into the mainstream, a return to Faith hears their brutal wordplay in full strength. Smith as a songwriter is one of the underrated gems of our time, and it shows on contemporary efforts like Songs of a Lost World. There is a wit to his writing, a truly unique perspective on romance and lust, as heard on Other Voices, which still affects his music.
Contrast between the darker, surface-level readings of the cure on The Drowning Man and The Funeral Party with the longing and tenderness of songs like Other Voices is fantastic. Faith feels like the first fully fleshed out album from The Cure. A song like The Funeral Party is a shining example of how steady, frequently heard bass riffs can make all the difference. There is no comfort in the familiarity heard across this song of aching silhouettes and fading memories. The Cure finds intensity in the grave tempo, in the slowed beats and dreamlike thrills of Smith’s voice. A song, one of many from The Cure, that has no trouble in ripping a listener from reality. Those moments of viewing the world in an out of body experience are frequent to Faith, and while it feels there is little in the way of religious symbolism to their work, it does feel like The Cure finds interest in stories where faith would be present. Funerals, breakdowns and all those moments in life where even the non-religious are asking for help from the divine, that is what Faith does best.
Where there is Faith, there is Doubt, and the instrumental shift is well-placed, a tonal change which feels so natural, yet so sudden. The Cure finds inspiration in moments where your fight or flight response is triggered, in those raging moments where instinct and desperation have taken over. Even now, they use those tones and relationships with the wider world as the foundation of their reflective writing. It can be heard still on Songs of a Lost World. Violence is disguised as strength on Faith, though Smith and the band do an exceptional job at showing the frustrations which lead to acts of rage as unfulfilled instances. The Drowning Man is a fine example of this and the wider point made by Faith. Doom and gloom are not defined by the decade but by a perspective of modern horrors. That is what keeps Faith relevant and, crucially, exciting to return to.
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