The Cure's first album in over a decade further cements their legacy as a truly legendary band — and was well worth the wait.

“It’s a lovely, haunting, and dreary album. I can’t get enough of it.”

One of my best friends had just texted me about The Cure’s new album, and while I’m admittedly unfamiliar with their back catalogue, his review had me reaching for my earbuds (let’s hope my review can do the same for you). Bundled up, I set out to walk through the evening’s light rain and found myself swallowed up in the realm of Songs Of A Lost World.

Nothing could have prepared me for this devastating operatic epic. The first two songs are each almost seven minutes long and both feature dark, lengthy instrumental introductions.

How many ways can a man say that his heart is broken while he shatters yours in the process? I lost count, but each soul-crushing plea equally recaptured my attention. 

In that regard, “A Fragile Thing” especially pierced me. The entire song is a quote from a woman who is telling her lover she knows they’ve always lied to her, and it has broken her. The listener is dropped in towards the story’s bitter ending with the lyric, “Every time you could kiss me I could cry… Don’t tell me how you miss me, I could die tonight.” There is a piano in the song that feels less like a part of the band and more like a thematic representation of the main character. Its droning serves to underscores the repeated agony she felt. Much like a Studio Ghibli film, you aren’t given all the pieces of the story, but that’s why your mind won’t let go of it. 

Typically when I hear that an artist is releasing their first album in over ten years, I find somewhere between hype and anticipation that the album falls short of my expectations, but this is a rainy November evening masterpiece.

The Cure’s frontman, Robert Smith, has been quite popular in recent years for his repeated attacks against Ticketmaster’s stranglehold on overinflated concert ticket prices. You don’t have to know much about him to get the feeling that he’s a real one. His authenticity stretches far beyond his public statements, as his lyrics burn with painstakingly personal torment while his voice sounds as if it hasn’t aged a day.

It’s worth mentioning that there are no “Friday I’m In Love” rehashes here nor any attempts to recapture the magic of their '80s origins that I could detect.

In fact, nothing here sounds like it could play on top 40 stations, but the album is better off because of it. When classic rock stations won’t play their new songs and pop stations won’t play classic rock bands, why cater to the pop format at all?

The furthest they go down the rabbit hole is in “Endsong” which ends the album with a whopping six and a half minute instrumental before the vocals come in. “Left alone with nothing at the end of every song” is the sad, final sentiment the group ends on. It’s the perfect finale to end your journey in the Lost World… or maybe to release you back into the Lost World.

Whether you’re a die-hard fan or a first time listener, this is a massive album from start to finish and it’s well worth your time.

The Cure’s latest bittersweet selection further cements their legacy as a legendary band that showed no signs of rust or complacency. I won’t fault anyone for curling up in a blanket on the couch while checking this record out, but just know that listening to Songs Of A Lost World in the cold, dark rain beneath the yellow glow of streetlights is nothing short of a religious experience. 

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