THE CURE | DISINTEGRATION
Disintegration was a response to the band’s distaste for newfound popularity, Robert Smith’s fearful reaction to turning 30, depression, alcohol abuse, and an experimental phase with LCD and hallucinogenic drugs. Despite the intention by Smith to purposely create a depressing album, it served as The Cure’s first commercial peak charting at number three in the UK and number twelve in the United States. It’s since become a staple in nearly every list of the greatest albums of all time.
The orchestra explosion in the opening track “Plainsong” affirms the dark and gloomy experience ahead. Chimes and strings fill the air like faeries in a lush garden of eden and the listener parks themselves at the ready to fall into a deep well of emotion. The chorus-ridden guitar solidifies The Cure’s most notable flavour and digs hard at the soul. Smith’s vocal finally enters buried in delay and lost in blankets of atmosphere, like waking up from a dream half asleep in between the astral plane and reality. Disintegration is about mood and tone, its about slathering a canvas in thick drossy acrylics so to feel the textures when the dry with your fingers.
“Pictures Of You” perhaps one of the most iconic Cure songs takes its sacchrine time to roll out with its syrupy intro climaxing into Robert Smith’s sublime vocal entrance, “I’ve been looking so long at these pictures of you, that I almost believe that their real.” Smith wrote the song in a nostalgic state after his home had suffered a fire where several possessions were destroyed. Pouring through photos of his wife that had been saved from the inferno provided the foundation for the lyrics. How can anything ever surpass such a drippy feeling of yearning and longing than this very moment in music? What’s hardest to believe is that this entire passage of song is mostly based on merely two chords repeating. This is much of where Disintegration’s strength lies, in the textures and depth of emotion surfing between the chords.
The string synthesizers on “Closedown” make neck veins stick out in wistfulness. Smith crawls all over the music with his voice firmly parked in melancholic cruise control, letting the solitary guitar lines weep and sprinkle like raindrops into the song. “Lovesong” arrives as a clear and accessible amalgamation of the album’s sentiment, a piece written for Smith’s wife as a wedding present. A lone organ, and trippy synth line, four chords that keep descending ladders into a cyclical abyss. Then the chorus “however far away, I will always love you” standing delicately firm against against the chimes of the electric guitar and the tambourine.
“Last Dance” dives into more hazy and ethereal terrain, while “Lullaby” reveals a creepier and more paranoid side of Robert Smith’s delivery as the microphone seems so close to him its almost in his throat. Pizzicato strings and tambourines mark the sections with a theatrical flourish. “Fascination Street” is gauzy and dark, telling the tale of a less than fulfilling trip to Bourbon Street in New Orleans through its brightly fuzzed bass line and dense drumming. Smith gets a chance to prance around the band like a cat on a hot tin roof, never stopping to draw out any long notes. He’s in the state of a quick pitter patter, almost Jagger-esque. It creates a brief sidestep from the lengthier more drawn out moments on the album.
“Prayers For Rain” drones with a dark minor chord feel, putting even further emphasis on string synthesizers and dense embellishments. “Disintegration” brings the albums drum sounds up to the foreground, where we can hear how a roomy low pitched snare can create the heavily opaque backdrop needed to back up the dreamy lilt of Smith’s ruminations. Here he unravels and rolls his lyrics like he’s detangling a mess of wires.
“Homesick lightens the production up introducing piano and brushwork, while album closer “Untitled” brings a tale of unrequited love told through glimpse of hope. It’s a much needed light at the end of a harrowing and viscous musical journey. It’s hard to pin the album to the year of its release in 1989 considering that rock was predominately hair metal, pop was vapid and neon, and indie rock was collegiate and poignant. The Cure existed here full of emotional dross and excess drama. Fans had little else to draw the kinds of feelings Disintegration extracted at the time, other than the Smiths – though much less lush. It’s no wonder the album remains so celebrated.
Combining layers of flavour, this cocktail’s plays on the lacquer of the album’s density. Elderflower liqueur and malbec wine reflect the mournful and longing nuances, while the tequila, raspberry syrup, and pineapple juice represent the sweetly layered atmospheric textures embedded throughout the album.
