Is it any wonder that Robert Smith is resurrecting the discography of his band, The Cure, on the eve of All Souls’ Day? We could interpret the output, the 1Ahem November, since Songs of a lost world as a nod from the singer to his status as the prince of gothic rock. But this All Saints’ Day is above all in tune with a fourteenth album steeped in mourning and thunderous with darkness.
We entered slowly, as if following a funeral procession under a stormy sky. After more than three minutes of majestic instrumental courtship, a plaintive voice, recognizable among all, welcomes us to the Only : “It’s the end of every song we sing. (…)/ We toast, with bitter dregs, to our emptiness”. It had been a long time since Robert Smith cried with such class.
Sixteen years separate this album from its predecessor, 4:13 Dream. Announced regularly since the late 2010s, this new chapter, always unconventional, became one running gag. Did a dizziness take over the Cure leader when he met this expectation, remembering the disappointments caused by his last albums? Since the success of DisintegrationBy 1989, the quality of the recordings had deteriorated to a caricature, disjointed want (1992) even the most insignificant Wild mood swings (1996), The cure (2004) or 4:13 Dream (2008), blood flowers raising the level a little, in 2000.
Powerful and generous concerts
However, over the past sixteen years, The Cure has not disappeared. Smith dedicated himself to copious reissues of his old catalogue. The group, above all, continued to offer a stage presence (250 concerts since 2008) whose impact never failed to impress. Even improved over time, like the “Shows of a Lost World” tour, which began in May 2023, these powerful and generous concerts – almost three hours of show time – allow us to celebrate the exceptional consistency of a repertoire. And to measure the importance of this group born in 1978, which shapes, as a pioneer of postpunk, new sounds and choruses that echo the disillusionments and self-destructive obsessions of a leader capable of admitting his frailties.
A group that has also reinvented itself to the rhythm of sometimes cold times (seventeen secondsin 1980) and contemplative (Faithin 1981), sometimes apocalyptic (Pornographyin 1982) or –almost– playful (head at the doorin 1985), Robert Smith gradually built this character with wild black hair, makeup with mascara and smudged lipstick. An iconic look that sometimes seemed like a prisoner.
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