10 of 10 thought this review was well written
Here from the past to test the ever-pestering judgment of time is one of many classic albums that do not deserve to be overlooked, in any given situation (even if it will cost you everything). Derived from moody 80's post-punk are The Cure,
and they've recorded a little album called Disintegration.
Much of what seems like gothic rock and emotional ballad to us today can be found on this album and it isn't hard to see that. The Cure liked to create music for tired lovers, exhausted females and shoegazing teenagers. For the most part, everything you look for in an angst-pop band can be traced back to being one of The Cure's signature styles. The band are more of an influence than they initially intended. Its a very rewarding experience, listening to the Cure, then breaking out all your emotastic records and realizing the borrowed sound. With this release the band reinvented emotional music, hollowing them an eternal resting place in the hearts of millions of shy kids. How many people have resorted to Robert Smith and company in times of pain and gloominess? Their effect on the music world and the rest of the planet alike is so gigantic and defined its not even realized. While not underrated in really any way, The Cure have not been blown up to their true height for us. Modern music has many gods, and taking a chair alongside their peers The Cure sits contently, with a vague smirk on their faces.
Sadness galore Disintegration
is argueably the band's darkest effort to date, and offers up some of the most eye-welling pieces of music and dank bedroom sitters you'll ever hear. Interestingly enough the band's messages get through but don't fail to amuse. You'd think after a couple tracks you'd be so lovesick as to throw it to the ground and curl under your covers to sob yourself asleep. Not the case. Though not denying this albums adolecsent effects, mood-swings aren't coming in the package. Likely it won't make you cry as much as think, the remainder of The Cure's library are well set for that.
Listening to Disintegration
is very comparable to reading a book, in the greatest sense. Every song is another chapter, with slightly different feel and attitude to it but remaining in the same mindset as the theme of the album asks for.
With a huge smash comes down on your ears the vocals. Staging quite a show Robert Smith pours his soul through his mouth and delivers a high point in the history of singing. Milestone, this album is for that. Notice, in songs like Lovesong
and the title track Robert seems on the verge of tears, trying to hold in his tortured voice to avoid exploitation of his feelings to the listener. It all sounds staged, in a good way like an enthralling play. Your on the edge of your seat peering into the depths of the album trying to wonder what exactly Smith and company were doing at that very moment, what they felt and what they thought. Its such a grasp on your heart in the right situation. Robert is talented enough to utilize his voice in certain ways never heard before, and really his biggest impact is the ability to sing his thoughts out to you. His emotion will never be mistaken. As well, it is most defenitely tough to exact at times what exactly is behind Robert in the duration that he sings. The guitars will sound out of this world, and the drums echoe their gloomy notes aiding the bass to create a near mystifying enviornment. I would imagine for Robert it would be like singing in a jungle, expressing what you feel you need to in front of a sea of animalistic sounds. It almost feels progressive, at times.
Drumming and guitar playing fortify the tale of a miniscule fairy's flight down the riverbed. Both instruments take up an imperitive role in the setting of the story. The drums most obviously make their role the speech of this particular pixie, exclaiming all her plights and fears to anybody who would listen. Guitar making sounds of the streaming liquid of whatever may be flowing under her minute feet, but defenitely noticed. She conquers her fear of something moving that fast and blends with it, becoming one of the many glimmering dots of light floating through the air following the river. Disintegration
is a painting, one very pretty to look at. One of those where, if you listen hard enough it feels like you can experience the artist's suffering, doubt, happiness...in all their glory. Like a legend. A story that makes blood rush to your face at its most valiant moments. Perhaps like I halfway through listening to this album you may ponder all the laughable attempts at producing emotional music that you've heard. How can they think they are any match for The Cure and their masterpiece? Well, influence is influence. And The Cure
and their masterpiece
should always know that. Without them there would exist not as much feeling to this kind of music, Post-Punk and early nineties goth music would be simply another forgotton genre with nothing redeemable to relate itself to. Or maybe even it wouldn't exist? Unlikely, but there isn't any doubt that Robert Smith and his band had a lasting impact on those bands. Influence and message are, I think, one of this band's greatest achievements in all their career. They won't exceed as much as they've already done as their career slowly winds down, and Smith ages. Holding such an enviornmental monument in your hands, you should feel the shock of emotion flow through your veins.
In the end, The Cure, aside from all the feeling put into this album...for those who aren't into that will find an orgasmic mesh of instrument and their master. The band are really a band here, and Disintegration
is most defenitely their greatest success as a band themselves. The musical co-operation here is amazingly beautiful and so well excecuted. Emotion pending, The Cure makes what seems to be a great piece of art. Then, all of a sudden it hits you: I'm going to cry! Yes it does have an effect of that stature on certain ears. Maybe it will be yours?
Vocals/Various instrumentation: Robert Smith
Guitars: Porl Thompson
Bass: Simon Gallup
Drums: Boris Williams
Keyboards: Roger O'Donnell