The Cure ‎– Faith

To say that Faith is not laced with tragic emotional atmosphere would be an understatement, and while it certainly is, the album further introduces listeners to future Cure sounds with songs such as “Primary” and “Other Voices,” songs that would go onto defining the band and their musicianship later on albums like Kiss Me … and the magical Disintegration, making it one of those super fine albums that manages to transport you back in time, to when you first heard this bit of wanderlust.

This is an darkly romantic album, nearly multi-layered in doom, where the only criticism would be that the stellar number “Charlotte Sometimes,” which was released as a single shortly after this album hit the shelves, was not included here, as it had been already written and recorded at this point, sort of making me feel like I did about the Beatles’ “Strawberry Fields Forever” and “Penny Lane” not finding their way onto Sgt. Pepper, where “Charlotte” (the song actually never made it onto any formal album) would have created an record all that more enticing. Still, it’s interesting to note how developed Smith's singing voice has become by this time, as frankly, he wasn't known for his vocal ability but his Cockney drawl managed to be one of the aspects that endeared fans of his group. Here on Faith, his voice and vocals reach ripe overtones and is much more expressive across the board, all making it easy to overlook how great the Cure were before they became stadium visions of high goth.

But the good stuff doesn’t end there, Faith ushered, or perhaps blossomed while showcasing the Cure’s development of synth-pop, countered by funky beats and ambient sounds to create intoxicating swirling moods, moods that were trance-like in their effects, monolithic textured hazed orchestral structures that build and then deconstruct right before your ears.

If I were to turn a corner and get serious, I’d be more than obliged, I’d be morally bound to say that things got very ugly on Faith, perhaps because nearly all of it was written in the studio amidst their debauchery, sanctioning woeful lamentations such as “Funeral Party” and “All Cats Are Grey,” where so much internalized pain was manifested from heartbreak to tape, where Smith’s edgy, fluttery vocals, and this tortured, brooding quality simply resounds, with bleakness having been the group’s not so romantic, though somehow endearing trademark. (laughing) Later in life Smith would say, “For some time now, my Mondays haven't been blue, nor my Tuesdays gray and Wednesday, too. I'm just going through the motions with this whole gloom thing. I am secretly ridiculously happy.”

I’m not sure how well this record would hold up for new listeners today, for those who weren’t there then and had no idea of what the late 70’s and early 80’s were all about, still, for those of us who were, and while we may gravitate toward the compilation Standing On The Beach or Disintegration, this album represents a very seminal moment in time.

*** The Fun Facts: The record’s cover was designed by member Porl Thompson, and is a picture of Bolton Priory (a church) in the village of Bolton Abbey draped in fog.

Review by Jenell Kesler