Review Summary: A measure of life.
‘Seventeen Seconds’ marks a crucial turning point for Robert Smith and his gang of misery kids, finally reaching the heavier, more substantial sound he pushed for since the band’s early days. Make no bones about it; ‘Seventeen Seconds’ is definitely a gothic and dark outing, and as such, it almost feels like the first ‘true’ Cure album in a sense - the first tentative chapter in an increasing gloomy tome.
Opening with a 2 minute instrumental dominated by sombre piano and an undercurrent of nervy, humming synth, ‘A Reflection’ sets the tone of the album down to a tee - dark, serious and haunting. In fact, the album feels more instrumental than it does a collection of traditional ‘vocal’ songs, with a pair of similarly grey, vocal-less interludes appearing half way in, and most songs being driven by Tolhurst’s snappy, minimalist percussion, as opposed to big hooks and boisterous vocals.
Group neophytes Simon Gallup (bass) and the short-lived addition of Matthieu Hartley (keyboards) proved to be the missing cogs to the gothic machine Smith wanted to build; with Gallup’s simple, echoing bass chords and Hartley’s understated synthetic purr blending together with Tolhurst’s drums to create a misty, sparse cocktail; far more sophisticated and mature than any of the band’s earlier incarnations.
It’s not just the musical side of the group that’s refined itself, either, as Smith’s lyrics seemed to have taken a great leap forward in quality - expressing emotions in a poetic way he never really managed before. You’ll find no nonsensical ‘Meathook’-type outings here - Smith’s earlier carefree lyrics find themselves being replaced by altogether more serious tales of self-damnation, loneliness and existential angst. Words like "alone", "night" and "dark" crop up several times, giving the album an intertwined and rapped together feeling, mustering up an incredibly bleak and gothic atmosphere in the process.
At its best, the album’s finest songs blend this new-found sonic sophistication with Smith’s reluctant vocals and desperate lyrics, to create wonderfully moody slabs of post-punk. 'Play For Today' is one such highlight, with a trickling bass line and subdued yet propulsive drums playing behind a gorgeously grim guitar riff courtesy of Smith. Another blistering Cure classic takes the form of track seven, entitled ‘A Forest’. Airy synths float around in the background, creating a subtle and misty atmosphere that conjures up the very image the song title hints at - a suffocating forest shrouded in darkness. The tale unravels, with the protagonist battling against the trapping trees, chasing a girl that was “never there” - the forest serving as a clever metaphor for isolation and loneliness. The album boasts a few other worthwhile numbers in, ‘M’; the carefully considered synth and crunchy guitar of ‘At Night’, and the haunting and desperate title track; but also has a few slight issues holding it back.
Because the album is so sparse and instrumentally driven, it takes a good few spins before its beauty can be registered in the mind of the average listener, and if one were to nit-pick, one would conclude that there isn’t much variety, with most of the album blending into one, continuous, droning wave. However, 'nit-pick' is the key phrase, as 'Seventeen Seconds' is a subtle and very solid Cure record - not their finest work, sure, but still a crucial step into new territory. And well handled it was, at that, with 'Play for Today', 'A Forest', 'Seventeen Seconds' and one or two other contenders all amounting to essential listening status for Cure fans.
