From Uncut:
The Cure – Songs Of A Lost World
Finally... the bleak yet energised 14th album
4.5/5
By Peter Watts
Dignity and despair go hand-in-hand on Songs Of A Lost World, as Robert Smith stands on the precipice of life and wonders what lies beyond. We have always known that this album would be imbued with sadness following the deaths of his parents and brother within a few years. Throughout Songs Of A Lost World, the writing is very much on the wall. Smith takes account of his life and career, asking what’s been the point of it all. “Where did it go?” he asks on stately opener “Alone” as he ponders his youthful hopes and dreams. Seven songs later, he answers that question on closing number “Endsong”. “It’s all gone”, he sings, “left alone with nothing, the end of every song”. The last word of the last song? “Nothing”.
“Alone” and “Endsong” are bound together in theme and sound – huge, dark clouds of synth and piano, a razor blade guitar and thunderous drums that are placed high in the mix like a heartbeat through a stethoscope. Few bands do atmosphere as well as The Cure, and while Songs Of A Lost World is not as angry as Pornography or as claustrophobic as Disintegration, it instead possesses an immersive, graceful beauty and more energy than you might expect. Five of these songs have been in The Cure’s setlists since 2022 and the studio versions are every bit as intense as their live counterparts but also sound a little crisper. The melodic and lyrical allusions to The Cure’s history now pop out of “And Nothing Is Forever”, while “A Fragile Thing” has a sparkle that was absent from its live incarnation. The bleak, beautiful “I Can Never So Goodbye”, with its heart-stopping line about “something wicked this way comes, to steal away my brother’s life”, remains as desolate and personal a song as Smith has ever written, but one whose incessant melody lines draws you in.
There are whispers of love and glimmers of hope, but resignation is the prevailing emotion. The gnarly grind of “Warsong” is about a friendship that turns sour, while the zesty industrial rock of “Dronenodrone” has Smith shrugging, “down down down, I’m pretty much done”. The penultimate song “All I Ever Am” is propelled by kick drum and guitar as Smith surveys everything he has achieved with a critical eye before threatening to give up “his weary dance with age” and move “toward a dark and empty stage”. We have been here before, of course – “I’ve run right out of thoughts and I’ve run right out of words”, he sang on “39” from 2000’s Bloodflowers, an album awash with imitations of the end: “One more time before it’s over…”, “when it all stops…”, “nothing left to say”. But back then, Smith had just turned 40; now in his mid-60s, Smith’s stocktake of his position is at the other end of middle age and all that entails.
The end is inevitable, but let’s hope the lights aren’t going down just yet.
