Back to the Beginning
My relationship with The Cure began in the 1980s, when music felt like something you stumbled upon and held close. I didn’t start with albums—I started with singles. Staring at the Sea was my gateway. Tracks like “Boys Don’t Cry,” “A Forest,” “Primary,” “Other Voices,” and “The Walk” felt like secret transmissions. They were moody, melodic, and unlike anything else I was hearing. Then came The Head on the Door in 1985. That album didn’t just speak to me—it became part of my emotional DNA. I’ve written a full blog post about its impact, and to this day, it remains my favourite Cure record. After that, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me, Disintegration, and Wish followed, each one marking a new chapter in my life. But somewhere around 1989, I lost touch with their newer music. The connection faded, though the older songs never left. They stayed with me, quietly soundtracking moments big and small. Rediscovering the Band More recently, I read Cured by Lol Tolhurst. If you love music memoirs, this one is essential. It’s not just about the band—it’s about identity, creativity, and survival. The story of a few punks from a provincial English town trying to express themselves in a way no one else could. From the birth of goth to global recognition, it’s a deeply personal account filled with both devastation and triumph. One line in particular stayed with me: “We weren’t trying to be dark—we were trying to be honest. And sometimes honesty sounds like despair.” That quote reframed how I hear The Cure. Their music wasn’t about aesthetic—it was about emotional truth. And that truth, even when painful, was what made it resonate so deeply. Reading Cured reminded me why The Cure mattered so much to me. So when I heard they were releasing a new album in 2024, after a 16-year silence, I felt that old anticipation return. Songs of a Lost World: First Impressions This isn’t a comeback. It’s a reckoning. Songs of a Lost World is a return to The Cure’s darker, more gothic rock roots. The compositions are powerful, the lyrics emotionally charged. Only Robert Smith could deliver something this raw and beautiful. He wrote and arranged the entire album himself—the first time since The Head on the Door. That detail alone made me lean in. The reception has been overwhelmingly positive. It’s already been nominated for three BRIT Awards, including Album of the Year. But more importantly, it feels like an album you live inside. You don’t skip tracks. You let it unfold.
There’s something here for every Cure fan. The album is cohesive, immersive, and emotionally resonant. If you’ve aged with The Cure, or if you’ve faced grief and loss, this record will speak to you in ways few others can. Why It Resonates What’s compelling about Songs of a Lost World is how good it is. It doesn’t feel like a late-career footnote. It feels essential. It belongs alongside Disintegration, with its despair and romantic ruin. This is an album of reflection, memory, and finality. Personally, I’d place it in their top tier—right there with Disintegration, Pornography, The Head on the Door, and Wish. It’s a late-career triumph that reminds us we still have something to give, even when we think our time is done. What The Cure Means to Me The Cure has never been just a band to me. They’re an emotion, a language, a memory, a reflection. I can thread together so many moments in my life through their music. Each album offered a melody—melancholy or playful—that helped me through. Their songs have been with me in quiet moments, in heartbreak, in joy, and in reflection. They’ve helped me make sense of things I couldn’t put into words. Songs of a Lost World doesn’t just add to their legacy. It adds to mine. It reminds me that music can still surprise us, still move us, and still speak to the parts of ourselves we thought were long forgotten.
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Some records stay with us for years. Others find us much later than they probably should. Explore more stories about the albums and artists we keep coming back to. → Explore Deep Cuts Find Your Next Record The hunt is part of collecting. Explore ways to find records locally and online, from independent record stores to trusted sources for harder-to-find releases. → Find Your Next Record
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Now that we’re moving into fall and Christmas is just around the corner, I revisited one of my favourite albums this weekend—and it didn’t disappoint. There’s something about the shift in seasons that makes certain records feel more alive. The air gets cooler, the days get shorter, and suddenly you’re reaching for music that knows how to sit quietly with you. For Emma, Forever Ago is that kind of album.
Bon Iver isn’t just a band—it’s a moment of emotional clarity frozen in time. The name itself, derived from the French phrase “bon hiver,” meaning “good winter,” was inspired by a scene from the TV show Northern Exposure. But the story behind the music is far more personal. Back in 2006, Justin Vernon, the man behind Bon Iver, was unravelling. He’d left his band, gone through a breakup, and was battling illness and burnout. So he did what few would dare: he retreated to his father’s hunting cabin in rural Wisconsin. No distractions. No expectations. Just snow, silence, and solitude. He didn’t go there to make music. He went to heal. But in that quiet, something stirred. Vernon began writing and recording—not with a plan, but as a means to process his feelings. Using basic equipment and layering vocals in a stream-of-consciousness style, he created something raw and intimate. These weren’t polished studio tracks. They were demos. And they were so powerful; his friends urged him to release them as they were. What you hear on For Emma, Forever Ago is exactly that: the original cabin recordings. No studio gloss. Just emotion, captured in its purest form. This album is my reset button. A sonic palate cleanser that sounds like nothing else. The melodies are calming, the lyrics cryptic yet deeply expressive. You don’t always know what Vernon’s saying, but you feel it. What I admire most is how the album doesn’t rush to offer answers or wrap things up neatly. It’s not trying to rescue you—it’s just there, steady and quiet, like a companion who understands the weight you’re carrying. There’s a kind of relief in that. It gives you room to feel what you need to feel, without judgment or urgency. Sometimes, that’s all you need: a little space, a little sound, and something honest to keep you company while you find your way through. Like many, I first heard “Skinny Love” and was instantly hooked. But it was the deeper cuts—“Re: Stacks,” “Blindsided,” “The Wolves (Act I and II)”—that pulled me in completely. Each track feels like a quiet conversation with your own heartache. It’s emotional. It’s minimal. It’s a moment in time, untouched by industry interference. No marketers. No managers. Just talent, truth, and tape. The track “For Emma” features horns added later in a studio session. It’s the only song with outside instrumentation, and when those horns kick in, it feels like coming home. The name Emma comes from a real person—her middle name, to be exact. Vernon reached out after the album dropped, and she was reportedly “pretty freaked out.” The album was first released with just 500 CDs, which sold out almost instantly. That buzz helped Vernon land a deal with Jagjaguwar and launch Bon Iver into the indie stratosphere. Vernon has said that the Wisconsin winter was crucial to the album’s tone. The starkness, the silence, the cold—it all seeped into the music, giving it weight and space to breathe. For Emma, Forever Ago isn’t just an album. It’s a quiet revolution. A reminder that sometimes, the most powerful art comes not from ambition, but from isolation. From heartbreak. From healing. If you’ve never listened to this album, give it a spin. As the leaves turn and the seasons change, let the feeling of winter find you—in reflective anticipation. Seasons fade, but life lingers on.
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Some records stay with us for years. Others find us much later than they probably should. Explore more stories about the albums and artists we keep coming back to. → Explore Deep Cuts Find Your Next Record The hunt is part of collecting. Explore ways to find records locally and online, from independent record stores to trusted sources for harder-to-find releases. → Find Your Next Record
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The Bends by Radiohead didn’t just show up in my life. It found me when I was drifting. I was young, stuck in a place where the future felt like something I couldn’t wrap my head around, let alone reach. There wasn’t much opportunity, and everything ahead looked distant and blurred. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing, and most days I felt like I was just going through the motions. Music was the one thing that made sense. It was my escape, my lifeline.
I didn’t go into the album expecting anything. I just hit play. “Planet Telex” started, and I leaned in. Then “The Bends” hit, and I was hooked. By the time “Fake Plastic Trees” came on, I was somewhere else entirely. That song felt like it had been written for me. I had it on repeat for weeks. It was fragile and aching and beautiful. It didn’t just sound good—it felt true. The whole album was like that. It had the energy of grunge, but it wasn’t angry. It was thoughtful. It was alternative, but not in a way that tried too hard. It had layers. It had heart. The lyrics were full of anxiety and longing, and they matched the feeling of being young and unsure. I didn’t know where I was going, but this music made me feel like someone else understood that. Back then, everything felt like it was changing. Grunge was fading. Britpop was rising. Bands like Green Day and Nine Inch Nails were pushing into new territory. The internet was creeping into homes. Dial-up tones, chat rooms, early websites. It was exciting and isolating at the same time. And in the middle of all that noise, The Bends felt like a quiet voice that said, “Yeah, I get it.” Thom Yorke didn’t sound like he was singing. He sounded like he was trying to get something out of his system. That vulnerability hit me hard. It reminded me of what I loved in other artists, but it felt more personal. Arena rock with soul. Melodies that stuck with you. Lyrics that made you stop and think. It was weird and beautiful and full of feeling. The tracks that stayed with me: “The Bends,” “Fake Plastic Trees,” “Just,” “Nice Dream,” “My Iron Lung,” “Black Star,” and “Street Spirit (Fade Out).” That last one especially. “Street Spirit” felt like it had been carved out of some dark corner of the world. It was haunting and existential and somehow comforting. It didn’t try to fix anything. It just sat with you in the mess. Listening to The Bends now, all these years later, feels like unfolding a letter from a version of myself I rarely revisit. It’s not an album I play in passing - it demands presence. Each track stirs memories that aren’t always easy to face. Though it marked the beginning of something - my bond with music, my search for meaning - it also felt like an ending. A chapter closed, quietly, before I was ready. Some moments are best left untouched. And yet, that’s the power of true artistry: to create something so emotionally precise it speaks to you in crisis and again in reflection. Radiohead didn’t write songs to lift you from the dark - they wrote songs to sit beside you in it. And when the light finally comes on, the music is gone. The Bends hit me when I needed it most. It didn’t solve anything, but it saw me. And sometimes, that’s enough. If you’ve never listened to it all the way through, do it. Not just for the music, but for the feeling. You might find a piece of yourself in there, waiting to be heard.
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Some records stay with us for years. Others find us much later than they probably should. Explore more stories about the albums and artists we keep coming back to. → Explore Deep Cuts Find Your Next Record The hunt is part of collecting. Explore ways to find records locally and online, from independent record stores to trusted sources for harder-to-find releases. → Find Your Next Record
If you’re building your setup, you can explore the full Vinyl Essentials guide covering turntables, cleaning, and accessories.
With Morrissey playing Toronto this weekend, I’ve been thinking about how much his music has meant to me over the years. Last year, the Canadian dates sold out quickly, so we were lucky to get tickets to his show in Rochester, New York. It turned out to be one of the most memorable concerts I’ve been to. Intimate, full of energy, and genuinely moving.
The Kodak Theatre was the perfect venue, especially on a cool November Saturday night. The atmosphere was just right. Highlights included "Everyday Is Like Sunday" and The Smiths' classic "How Soon Is Now," but it was the deeper cuts that really stuck with me. His performance of "Life Is a Pigsty" was especially powerful. It was raw and emotional, and it reminded me why I’ve always connected with his music. That show felt even more special knowing it had been five years since Morrissey last performed in Canada. His previous visit was back in 2019, after a long boycott that lasted from 2006 to 2019. So when he returned in 2024, it felt like a bit of a homecoming. Lately, I’ve been revisiting Bona Drag, one of my favourite albums of his. I know picking a favourite Morrissey album is a bit of a minefield. He’s released 13 studio albums, 2 live albums, 12 compilations, and more than 60 singles. There is still talk of a 14th studio album, which was once expected in September 2025, although it’s unclear if it will ever be released. He’s made some incredible records like Viva Hate, Your Arsenal, Vauxhall and I, and You Are the Quarry, but Bona Drag continues to resonate with me in a way few albums do. Released in October 1990, it came early in his solo career and, while technically a compilation, it feels like a complete album. The songs are thematically connected, and the production has a distinct style that bridges the gap between The Smiths and Morrissey’s solo work. I bought my copy the day it came out, and it’s been with me ever since. It’s a little worn now, but that’s part of its charm. The 2010 reissue added six bonus tracks, including "Let the Right One Slip In", but even the original 14 tracks are all strong. From the swagger of "The Last of the Famous International Playboys" to the vulnerability of "Will Never Marry," the album explores everything from apocalypse and rebellion to subculture and anti-love. It’s no surprise it has a cult following. Critics appreciated it too. NME gave it 8 out of 10 when it was released, and Pitchfork later gave it a near-perfect 9.8. On Rate Your Music, it still holds a 3.98 out of 5, which says a lot about its staying power, even 35 years on. The cover, a colour-altered still from the "November Spawned a Monster" video, is memorable in its own way. And while Johnny Marr didn’t play on the album, Andy Rourke and Mike Joyce did, giving it a subtle connection to The Smiths. Seven tracks even charted on the US Modern Rock charts, including Interesting Drug and Piccadilly Palare. Lyrically, Morrissey is in top form. His blend of wit, melancholy, and social commentary is as sharp as ever. These songs still speak to me, even after all these years. They’ve grown with me and helped me get through many good and not-so-good times. I’m looking forward to whatever Morrissey does next. Whether he plays "Hairdresser on Fire" or "Interesting Drug", I’ll be there enjoying the moment. Bona Drag isn’t just an album. It continues to be part of my life, along with all of Morrissey’s work, both as a solo artist and as part of The Smiths. If you liked this, check out:
More From The Smiths & Morrissey From The Smiths’ essential records to Morrissey’s solo years, explore more stories, albums and guides from across Vinyl Vibes. → Explore The Smiths & Morrissey Guide
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Some records stay with us for years. Others find us much later than they probably should. Explore more stories about the albums and artists we keep coming back to. → Explore Deep Cuts Find Your Next Record The hunt is part of collecting. Explore ways to find records locally and online, from independent record stores to trusted sources for harder-to-find releases. → Find Your Next Record 
If you’re building your setup, you can explore the full Vinyl Essentials guide covering turntables, cleaning, and accessories.
 There are albums you like, albums you love, and then there are albums that become part of your DNA. Songs from the Big Chair by Tears for Fears is one of those for me. It’s not just music. It’s memory, emotion, and a time capsule of youth, rediscovered in adulthood with even deeper resonance. 1985: The Cassette Chronicles If you grew up in the mid-80s, you probably remember the sacred ritual of recording songs off the radio. I sit by my tape recorder, finger hovering over the record button, praying the DJ stops talking before the first note drops. It’s a game of timing, patience, and pure love for music. I never actually owned Songs from the Big Chair back then, at least not in the traditional sense. But I have it. A cassette recorded live from the radio, stitched together from Top 40 countdowns and late-night broadcasts. “Shout,” “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” “Head Over Heels.” Those are the crown jewels. That tape becomes my personal soundtrack, played until the ribbon wears thin. It’s the joy of music before streaming, before downloads, before everything is instant. If you want to hear the full album today, check out the Super Deluxe Edition on YouTube. 2024: Vinyl Dreams Come True Nearly four decades later, I get into vinyl, and Songs from the Big Chair is at the top of my hit list. But I don’t want a shiny reissue. I want a used copy. Something with history. Something that already lives a life. I find it at a record show, bundled with Led Zeppelin IV and David Bowie’s ChangesTwo. Three albums for $55. A steal. But it’s Tears for Fears that steals my heart all over again. I play that record countless times, and every spin feels like a reunion with my younger self. Why I Still Love It This album is what loving music is all about. Every track is a masterclass. The hits are undeniable. “Shout,” “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” “Mothers Talk,” “Head Over Heels.” But the deep cuts are where the soul lives. The production is immaculate. Even on a used vinyl record from 1985, the sound quality is stunning. You hear the care, the obsession. Rumour has it they spend a week perfecting the snare on “Shout.” That kind of excess leads to excellence. Genre-wise, it’s a beautiful blend of synth-pop, progressive rock, and even smooth jazz. It’s emotionally rich, sonically layered, and psychologically deep. The title comes from Sybil, a film about a woman with multiple personalities. Each song, like each persona, has its own voice. Hidden Gems Worth Your Time You know the hits. Let’s talk about the ones that sneak up on you.
Why Listen in 2025? Because it’s not just nostalgia, it’s timeless. The themes of power, control, emotional catharsis, and mental health still resonate. The production still stuns, even in an age of digital perfection. In 2025, Songs from the Big Chair turns 40. There’s a limited edition baby blue cassette for collectors, and remastered vinyls that bring new clarity to its layered sound. It’s featured in 1001 Albums You Must Hear Before You Die, but for me, it easily lands in my personal top 10. Final Thoughts Songs from the Big Chair isn’t just an album. It’s a journey. From cassette tapes in 1985 to vinyl spins today, it stays with me through decades of change. And every time I hear “Everybody Wants to Rule the World,” I’m reminded that some music doesn’t age. It evolves. If you haven’t revisited it lately, do yourself a favour. Sit in your own big chair, drop the needle, and let it take you somewhere timeless. Keep Listening Some records stay with us for years. Others find us much later than they probably should. Explore more stories about the albums and artists we keep coming back to. → Explore Deep Cuts Find Your Next Record The hunt is part of collecting. Explore ways to find records locally and online, from independent record stores to trusted sources for harder-to-find releases. → Find Your Next Record If you’re building your setup, you can explore the full Vinyl Essentials guide covering turntables, cleaning, and accessories. |
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