Photo: Universal
Songs of a Lost World by The Cure
In 2019, British band The Cure were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. They also went viral, thanks to a moment on the red carpet between singer Robert Smith and journalist Carrie Keagan.
"Are you as excited as I am?" was the enthusiastic question, followed by a bone-dry "Um, by the sounds of it, no," from Smith.
The interview proceeded in a mutually respectful way, but Smith refused to get excited, complaining about being "subsumed into the Hall of Fame despite [the band's] best efforts".
Any other response would have rung false, as Smith, with his trademark red lipstick and thatched hair, became synonymous during the band's heyday with a certain theatrical miserabilism.
It would have been startling to hear a chirpier version of the 65-year-old pop up on their first album in over 15 years. But its title, Songs of a Lost World, signalled that the band still traffic in pop-tinged gloom, and the music within positively luxuriates in it.
First single 'Alone' proceeds for over three minutes before Smith actually starts singing, and when he does, it's as triumphant as that gloriously protracted intro. He basically sounds like he did in his 20s.
The album proceeds accordingly: most tracks unfurl slowly, relishing in the chord progressions before a single lyric. There's a metallic sheen to the production I was initially unsure about, but in the end it just adds to the show-stopping vibe; each song a thick slab of tuneful noise.
Few bands, if any, can make sadness sound this majestic.
The Cure have spent the last ten years playing generous three-hour shows, Smith telling Uncut it's been the best decade of being in the band, going on to say "It pisses all over the other 30-odd years!"
He's also been proactive about keeping ticket prices low, taking aim at Ticketmaster as well as scalpers, and saying in the press that other artists could easily do the same, if they chose to.
It's a wonderful surprise that 2024 has become such a good time to be a fan of The Cure, and even better, Smith told NPR the next few albums are all mapped out, with the next one transitional, and the third redemptive and joyful.
How long it will take to release them remains to be seen.
Soft Tissue by Tindersticks
Photo: Bandcamp
UK group Tindersticks released their first album in 1993, which went on to be crowned best of the year by Melody Maker magazine. They still sound like no one else, with a new album that's particularly lush, and slightly dangerous, like stumbling across a 2am lounge band with a threatening singer.
'Always a Stranger' is a midpoint highlight thanks to its swirling waltz rhythm and touch of Spanish zest. There's even a mariachi horn near the end.
Elsewhere, 'Nancy' bops along on a bossa nova rhythm, with hints of reggae in its keyboard pulse and brass.
Soft Tissue's songs are simultaneously dour and uplifting; smooth and slightly sleazy. The biggest touchstone this time is seventies soul, with rich, warm production balancing a sometimes chilly outlook.
Cartoon Darkness by Amyl and The Sniffers
Photo: John Angus Stewart
Even the name of this Aussie band is going to raise some eyebrows. They brandish a rugged sense of humour, riffing on pub rock, and operating first and foremost as a vehicle for singer Amy Taylor's outsized personality.
The band wear their working class background like armour, with many of this album's lyrics feeling like a response to critics of their rising fame. Always broad and catchy, the tunes are each supercharged by Taylor's exuberance. She has points to make, but they're usually accompanied by a wink.
If nothing else, The Sniffers' success Stateside has given us the joy of reading American critics using the word "bogan".
Tony Stamp reviews the latest album releases every week on The Sampler.
