The Cure – Japanese Whispers Review

A truly strange step, to say the least, for The Cure, who follow up one of their early masterpieces with a new wave slump. Japanese Whispers has the band try their hand at a genre which was more a continuation of Americanised interests, the post-punk sound of the decade. Robert Smith and the band do not exactly fit the bill, but there was only one way to find this out. Japanese Whispers, at its best, informs the band of a roadblock, a point of no return for their sound, which must not be crossed again. It may have informed some of their all-time greatest hits, those standalone moments which are stuffed into the encore, but it does little for the often-heavy meaning or tonal dread which is found in the gothic rock albums preceding this release. To their credit, Japanese Whispers is just a compilation of synth-oriented experimentation.  

It is a break from the norm of their sound, and when considered as such, it is hard to feel anything but glee for the novelty which turns into sincerity soon after opener Let’s Go To Bed. A dizzying series of experiments which would be light pieces of throwaway work from The Cure if it were not for the consistencies of Smith as a lyricist. Not for the first time, The Cure experiments with a sound and finds new life for themselves, for their future works, in these moments of bizarre noise. The Dream may be a bit of a throwaway, but it does cleanse the palette ahead of Just One Kiss, an all-time great song from the band, which is tucked away neatly on Japanese Whispers. A thudding drum machine, an instrumental and vocal bed just waiting in anticipation for that roaring guitar or the thud of cymbals. It is the tease which works best of all, which is why it is such a delightful surprise to never hear the climax. A song of longing where the listener, too, is involved in Smith’s lyrical desire.  

These moments are based in frustration, in the hopes of destroying The Cure. Smith admitted as much in interviews at the time, and while these works do well to separate The Cure of the times with the past, Smith fails to destroy the band. If anything, it solidifies the sloppy thrills of preceding albums. A period of transition does not always have to sound clunky. Japanese Whispers feels relatively solid for an album compiled of songs written in a limbo period of The Cure’s lifespan. Stomping gothic tones with the drum machines of new wave in tow. The Walk highlights this crossover well, and while The Cure would distance themselves from the sound made on Japanese Whispers, they find new life because of it. 

Lighter tones for a band who shrouded itself in the misery of the night, Japanese Whispers makes for quite the contrasting statement from The Cure. Albeit not a true album, it is a release nonetheless, and perhaps opens The Cure to a tame listener not quite ready for the gothic pangs which preceded and followed this release. Not immediately, of course. The Top was just around the corner and feels like a half-baked piece when compared to this eight-track compilation. Japanese Whispers is reliant on the tech of the times and manages to make a convincing enough sound out of it, avoiding the usual, dated pitfalls thanks to some convincing lyrical work from Smith. He may have blasted the album as pop messiness, but other than an on-the-nose offering with La Ment, there is an ounce of truth and beauty in each song.