The Cure - Disintegration

May 2nd, 1989.

Fiction

Disintegration, often seen as the pinnacle of Gothic Rock, traverses its thirty-fifth sullen saunter around the sun. Being of a rather glum stance - nothing new to the returning Cure fan - the scale and scope of Disintegration would be its defining feature. Every aspect of The Cure would solidify into an unbreakable, impenetrable, tour de force - if they weren't already.

The Cure's eighth studio album so happens to be The Cure's magnum opus; The Cure's centrepiece. The tail end of their 80's run, Disintegration ties the ribbon on a decade of downpour - The Cure's output often being a rather sullen outing. Clouds of a threatening nature drift above; the threat that said clouds entail more often than not makes itself known. A wet, reverb-laden, petrichor infused world  breathes a windswept breathe. Said world teeters on the verge - in a breezy, calm state; never too far from a storm - and just over said verge - prayers for rain are delivered; showers slice and sink bone deep. Under the weight of the ocean, vision shimmers. A dream-like mindstate seeps in. Held at a reverberant distance, a defence against the outside world.

Disintegration is where the promise of a consistent project comes to fruition for The Cure. Everything lives up to the hoped expectations of a 70+ minute runtime. Any project over an hour long can't really have any moments that feel like they pull said project back; it's already long enough, there's no time for filler or sub-par sights and sounds.

The double album is a difficult one. Only the most bold of bands - artists - attempt to pull off its requirements - an artistic vision beyond the norm. There are only a handful of double albums that can actually say that they deserve their status; Disintegration is most certainly one of them.

'However far away, I will always love you.'