(Aka what it sounds like when the Cure do the Cure)
Sixteen years after their last album, Robert Smith & Co. have returned on their own (admittedly, glacial) terms. They sound regal, exhausted, and deliciously slow, wrestling with mortality and doubt in a way that's perfectly suited to the Cure (and reminds me more than just a little of David Bowie's final work, "Blackstar," which focused on the same endgame subjects in a similarly "top of their game" sort of way right at the end of his life). I first heard the track linked here, "And Nothing Is Forever," on last year's Cure tour of the U.S. (which I wrote about for Magnet here) and it reminds me that -- unlike, say, the Stones -- Smith has never felt the need to flex for the sake of proving his youthful virility. If anything, the Cure was always adult-before-their-time, sounding world-weary and sick of it all long before goth made that a core brand attribute. I love this album more than anything the band has done since 1989's "Disintegration," which saw Smith retreating from fame and popularity through the copious use of hallucinogens, which greatly influenced the sound of that record. What is the feeling of pending death if not the world's most powerful psychotropic drug? The Cure have been and shall always be one of THE bands for me. "There is none blacker," as the joke goes. All hail the dark lords of pop, as magisterial and mysterious as ever. đź‘‘