Review Summary: Familiar scents from ageing flowers.
There were hints scattered throughout ‘Wild Mood Swings’ that The Cure had become journeymen of their trade. The record was pretty disappointing because it ventured too far away from the sound that defined the band - gothic, alternative rock. It was solid, but it’s important to consider the fact that the band had been going for nearly 20 years, so the ears listening were most likely to be attached to the heads of Cure fans - folk who‘ve grown up with dark masterpieces like ‘Disintegration’. In other words, The Cure should’ve gone down a more familiar route, because when you reach the point where two decades sit behind your musical backside, it’s generally time to start perfecting sonic templates and maturing; catering to those loyal, existing fans, rather than alienating them by experimenting with dissatisfying new sounds, possibly intended to gather a younger flock of followers.
With ‘Bloodflowers’, Smith decided to give the fans what they wanted - a classic Cure record, complete with gothic slabs of atmosphere, accompanied by an extra dose of misery, piled on top for good measure. The album, according to Smith, was intended to be the closing chapter of a trilogy of albums that started with ‘Pornography’ (1982) and continued with ‘Disintegration’ (1989). To cut a long story short, it fails on that front. ‘Bloodflowers’ doesn’t sound like a trilogy ending album - it doesn’t feature the extreme darkness of ‘Pornography’, or the epic, yet subtle quality of ‘Disintegration’, and comes nowhere near trumping either of those efforts.
That’s not to say it isn’t a worthwhile venture, though. Any discomfort caused by the unfamiliar joviality of ‘Wild Mood Swings’ is surely compensated by the unnerving synthetic warble lurking behind the bland guitar chords of ‘Out Of This World’, or the miserable, yet moving ‘The Last Day Of Summer’. The album definitely pushes for the classic, gothic Cure sound, which means it feels immediately more satisfying than the bands previous effort.
But at the same time, the self-consciousness spoils any chances of ‘Bloodflowers’ becoming the classic its creators had hoped it to be. One begins to conclude that Smith is trying too hard at times, with monotonous tracks like the 11 minute-plus ‘Watching Me Fall’, that features a splendid outburst of distorted guitar and angst in its last few moments, but takes way too long to reach said climax. It’s almost as if the band were consciously trying to recreate a lengthy, atmospheric piece, reminiscent of ‘Disintegration’-era Cure. That’s precisely why ‘Bloodflowers’ remains enjoyable, but flawed, because the melodramatic nature of gothic music means it works best when its instigators focus on running wild with emotion - and with ‘Bloodflowers’ seeming so deliberate and forced, it’s unfortunately prevented from ticking that crucial box.
But at the end of the day; forgetting that the album is trying to be an epic slice of redolence; ‘Bloodflowers’ can be pretty damn enjoyable if you take to the time to delve into its best moments without caring for what the album is supposed to represent. Such highlights include the deceptively mellow ‘The Loudest Song’, with its pulsing intrusion of synth, and gorgeous guitars; and the swirling, off-kilter lead and airy synth of ‘39’.
Ultimately, the album is too self-conscious and familiar to be the epic return to form it was intended to be, yet, appositionally, it works precisely because of those two complaints. ‘Bloodflowers’ paints a wontedly satisfying portrait of an ageing band that can still appease its followers, but only when it resorts to using the same old pretty, yet slightly un-compelling, colours and brushstrokes.
