"I'm Always Wanting More"

The Cure, "4:13 Dream"
Being a Cure die-hard (and I'm nothing if not that) has been a taxingly schizoid experience since the band's output slowed to a steady one-LP-every-four-years pace. We get a seamless, majestic album that recalls their ability to create unified thematic pieces like "Faith" and "Pornography" via 2000's "Bloodflowers", but then we have to make do with a slap-dash mess with weak singles (and admittedly a couple of decent deep cuts) that sounds like it was recorded by a session-band backed Robert in a weekend (2004's self-titled disappointment).

From a fan-service point of view, it's been an equally weird ride. One had to buy no less than three different versions of their last LP in order to collect all of the exclusive bonus tracks appended to region-specific editions (I don't think I need to mention how aggravating it is to have to buy a record you aren't that nuts about three times). On the other hand, in anticipation of their new release, four singles were released on CD and 7" at regular monthly intervals: just the sort of sneak peak/collector's material we Cure nerds love. After treating us to a reverent live presentation of three of the band's greatest records via the Trilogy tour and DVD, Robert did his best to squander that legacy by collaborating with a plethora of musicians connected only by their shittiness: Blink 182, Junior Jack and Korn, among others.

So here we are: four years on and a new Cure record again, this one surprisingly arriving without the usual hubbub of rumours that this would be the last one (for those just joining us, Robert's been perpetuating that myth since 1983). The canny promotional release of the singles and their outings at a hella-premature world tour boded well for "4:13 Dream", and the cover art's a damn sight better than the last one. So what've we got? A pretty damn satisfying contemporary Cure record. Not one that instantly buries you in lush arrangements and maintains a uniform mood the way "Bloodflowers" did, and certainly not one that makes you scratch your head and wonder why on earth the majority of the cuts made it past the demo stage (okay, I'll stop dumping on the self-titled record now).

We start off with "Underneath The Stars", which for the life of me can't be described as anything other than a more organic revision of "Plainsong", and right off the bat "4:13 Dream" reminds you that it is the first Cure record to not feature a keyboard player as a band member since 1984. Jason Cooper's characteristically torpid drum fills occupy the space where we'd usually hear Roger O'Donnell's synth washes, and the chiming guitar phrases which made me realise that This Band Was It years back trickle through the mix like liquid crystal.

The band's made up for the lack of keyboards by adding all manner of effects and production-saturation. Some have kvetched about this as a rare reversion to amateurism from a veteran band, but to me it sounds like a simple reclamation of the sheer conceptual quirkiness that marked so much of The Cure's mid-80s material, especially on the B-sides that era produced. I'd argue that "4:13 Dream"'s strength lies in its off-the-cuff delivery. It reminds us of just how easily Smith can toss together candyfloss dream-pop with little concern for conceptual trappings. All too often those tracks have ended up as B-sides over the course of the last three Cure albums ("Spilt Milk", "A Pink Dream"), but here "The Only One" is cavalierly offered as the lead single, gleefully aping 1992's light-as-a-feather "High" - not bad footsteps to be following, considering that song was able to dethrone U2's "One" from the top of the Billboard singles chart.

Anyway, along with the casual production of "4:13 Dream" come abrupt shifts in tone and mood: we careen through a manic psych-rocker like "Freakshow" (somehow recalling both "Never Enough" and "A Man Inside My Mouth') and an acoustic slow-burner like "Sirensong" (think "Jupiter Crash" from "Wild Mood Swings") in the space of five minutes.

With all of these callbacks to previous Cure songs and eras, one might think that there isn't much terribly original to be found on "4:13 Dream". That might be true as far as the actual songwriting structures go, but given how surprisingly bland Robert's attempt to write new types of Cure songs proved on the band's last outing (okay, one more dig), I don't think there's much wrong with letting the Cure formula stay as is for at least one full album this late in the game.

So what is new? Well, lyrically, Robert's in a much more listless and playful space than he's been for years. "The Perfect Boy" goofs on how awesome the imaginary child he and his wife have is in much the same way that Patton Oswalt once did. There are no songs about growing older or feeling uninspired (thank Christ). Robert's batting about classic Cure themes (love, happiness, self-deception) as though they were lively sparring partners, valid reasons to pick up the guitar and wail about rather than monotonous cliches beneath which he suffers. Furthermore, the stimulation of having another certified guitar wizard back in the fold through the return of the erstwhile Porl Thompson has kicked the latent psychadelic side of the band back into full gear, with generally positive results.

The album's not without its duds. "Sleep When I'm Dead", a resurrected "Head On The Door" demo certainly bears all of the structural characteristics of a Cure tune circa 1985, but also shows that it's slightly ridiculous to try to apply the current sonic palette of a band to twenty year-old material. "The Scream" tries to build the sort of menace tracks like "The Kiss" or "Bloodflowers" but falls flat.

"4:13 Dream" won't do much to change your opinion of The Cure, whatever that might be. The casual fan who picks the disc up on a whim will find no small number of singles that compare favorably with whichever best-ofs they happen to be familiar with, while committed aficionados like myself will have fun debating the merits of the tracks hidden between the singles (I'll opt for "Sirensong" and "The Hungry Ghost"), and those who find the idea of a man pushing fifty playing dress-up for alienated teens to be patently silly will likely have their (incorrect) suspicions proved. That said, the liberty and sense of play which surrounds the whole outing gives some hope that we might be seeing the end of four year waits between records, and the beginning of a new phase in the band's career.

The Cure, "Underneath The Stars"