Songs of a Lost World, The Cure.
© Fiction Polydor
As a kid, Robert Smith fell asleep counting the seconds that passed between each drop from a leaking faucet at the end of the hallway in his family’s apartment. It was always seventeen seconds. We know the rest. Nearly fifty years after the beginnings of The Cure, time seems to dissolve in an exact way, judging by the eight songs of a fourteenth album stretching after sixteen years of absence on lengths in reverse of all radio constraint (10’24” for the finale ofEndsong).
« This is the end of every song that we sing »
« This is the end of every song that we sing » (Alone) : thus this object opens, reconnecting with the beautiful hours of Disintegration (1989). Layers of hypnotic synths, drums well at the bottom of the tempo and saturated bass from Simon Gallup, from these bistre compressed sounds emerges a Nervalian statement striking the trajectory of a world in decay, where even the tugs of a couple are only the result of a planet in conflict (Warsong).
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Will we manage to die together? wonders in And Nothing is Forever the singer with the voice of a young man, capable at 65 of still being a hell of a hit maker (A Fragile Thing).
Songs of a Lost World, The Cure (Fiction Polydor) ****.
© Fiction Polydor
