Iconic goth-rock band The Cure are having a very big 2019.
Not only were they inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by none other
than industrial-goth symbol Trent Reznor of Nine Inch Nails, their emblematic masterpiece,
Disintegration, turned 30 years old
and they are celebrating by touring the world and playing the album in its
entirety. What a wow!
Disintegration is
one of those albums that has grown bigger and better over time since its
release. It is the pinnacle of the band’s growth over the previous decade, a
milestone in their career, and, most importantly, the record that beautifully captures
the band’s creative powers at its peak. It is inarguably THE quintessential goth-rock
album of all time (Pornography,
another bleak Cure release, is number two). Characterized by a significant use
of synthesizers and keyboards, slow and droning guitar progressions awash with
chorus and flange effects (a signature sound for the band), and some of front
man Robert Smith’s most introspective lyrics, Disintegration is absolutely phenomenal, and its lush soundscapes
pull listeners in time and time again. The Cure were making great music before Disintegration, sure, but with this,
they successfully transcended from radio-friendly Brit-pop stars to deep goth
icons. Throughout their visual and musical changes over the decades, having developed
a distinct sound unlike any of their counterparts, and inspiring legions of Smith
lookalikes and band soundalikes (full wardrobe and sensibility), The Cure
helped nurture an identity for misunderstood teens, one that can be found in
any high school during any decade. Disintegration,
of course, was that misunderstood youth that is now embraced with big, loving
arms.
Despite some of the album’s distressing attributes, such as Smith’s
anxiety over turning 30, keyboardist Lol Tolhurst’s well-documented excessive alcoholism
and ultimate ejection from the band, and rumors of Smith cutting out a
newspaper clip detailing a gruesome suicide of two young teenage boys in the
vicinity of the band’s recording studio and pinning said clip to a wall for
inspiration, make Disintegration all
the more morose. If anything, the album’s title implies a band falling apart, which
it somewhat was. Smith, too, struggled with alcoholism and substance misuse,
the band’s growing fame became too much and inflated some egos, and Smith’s life-long
friendship to Tolhurst, among other relationships, was fast fading. Disintegration also propelled the band
to even higher fame, unaffected by Fiction Record’s (The Cure’s record label at
the time) suggestion that it was career suicide and become their best-selling
album. The supporting tour become bigger, too. In North America, they were selling
out venues like Dodger Stadium and were forced to extend tour dates, and for
the first time in their career they visited Eastern Europe. Their growing
status caused the band discomfort and threatened the its future, with Smith saying
they would never tour again. However, Smith has been known to make wild claims
that never actually happen, and The Cure has remained a powerhouse ever since.
While the album’s success came at the expense of the band’s tensile
health, Disintegration is a superb collection
of songs, a prodigious near 72-minute album filled with slow, dark, and sensual
contemplation and introspection. Opener “Plainsong” is a perfectly crafted
introduction to an album you’ll ever hear: 20 seconds of wind chimes before an ominous
bass, heavenly synths, wistful guitars and drums that erupt in a thunderous
upsurge welcomes us into the gloomy and stormy listen the next hour will befall
on you. Key tracks “Pictures of You”, “Lullaby”, “Fascination Street” and a
personal favorite, title track “Disintegration” offer just enough pop and a
slight glimmer of hope in an otherwise desolate assemblage. The album’s (and
band’s) biggest single, “Lovesong” is perhaps the most perfect, albeit cliché,
love song anyone could ever write, one of those songs that defines a romantic
moment in any person’s life. And while Disintegration
as a whole has a reputation of being crumbling, doleful and depressive with lots
of heartbreak, pain, joy, isolation and desperation, the album’s mass appeal is
its comfort and ease in those things. Its twelve tracks are steady with pulsing
bass and guitar, assertive and energetic synth lines, and sparkling ethereal
melodies tied together by Robert Smith’s soothing, heartful and beautiful voice
surveying the landscape the band created, one that welcomes you back at the
push of play. With its 30 years of existence, this is an album I have picked up
many times since my teens and found a place within it, and an album that’ll
keep reserving that place for me over the next 30 years.
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