Happy Anti-Valentine's Day

There's something oddly comforting about The Cure's brooding and introspective masterpiece Disintegration (1989). Even though the entire album is a guided meditation that veers to a gradual descent toward loss, broken dreams/promises, declarations of unrequited love, and a bleak and distant yearning for happier times that could have been, the overall impact to the listener is anything but feelings of gloom. You do get a little misty-eyed from time to time but it's akin to watching a movie that deals with the same heart-wrenching subject matter than actually reliving what is being sung; leader and main songwriter Robert Smith is a good storyteller, after all.

Among its two counterparts, Pornography (1982) and Bloodflowers (2000), Disintegration is the middle act of an epic trilogy devoid of any upbeat melodies meant for top-40 radio. These are the kind of albums that are in heavy rotation as soundtracks to every suicide (along with Joy Division's Closer). Some concert reviewers even joked about giving complimentary ropes at every Cure concert in the past. Characterized by a grandiose wall of sounds created by synths, keyboards, chiming guitars and drum work that sounds like gunshots, and set to Smith's sharp wordplay and acute sense of crafting vivid imagery makes Disintegration, in my opinion, the definitive Cure album.

I have been searching for this album for so long. I scoured every known music peddler from the corporate-owned variety to the smallest flea pits where only hardcore collectors and audiophiles dare to tread (I did find other notable albums like The Stone Roses and NIN's Pretty Hate Machine during this quest), but only managed to acquire their singles collection Staring At The Sea. Even Quiapo - the ever reliable haven for hard-to-find music, movies and reading materials - didn't have it. While I am aware of the internet and wonders it can do to acquire digital files, when it comes to music I am old-fashioned. The album, the sleeves, the entire package and yes, even the search, is everything. I believe those are parts of the complete album listening experience. But sometimes you just have to listen to something so bad, you are compelled to bend some of your established rules to satisfy your curiousity.

As expected, the music was excellent. All the songs are epic in scope, each masterfully crafted by the band and clocking in at no less than five minutes. "Plainsong" opens with the most apt lyric that sets the tone for the entire album: "I think it's dark and it looks like rain...". Smith sings in a resigned manner that even the biggest yearnings actually feel the end of the world even if it were answered. But the genius of tunesmiths like Robert Smith is that they are able to channel all these moping and self-pity into pop masterpieces full of hook that helps in digesting an other wise heavy concept album all the more easier to the casual listener. This is definitely the album to play this Valentines. Full of anthemic shout outs tailor-made for the soundtrack of your own miserable existence.