In my perception, Cursive has had two distinctive characteristics. The first is Tim Kasher’s conceptual and self-referential lyrics, which really came to their own on Cursive’s Domestica. The second is the presence of a cellist, which marked The Ugly Organ and their two reunion albums.
In that perspective, this is the first release in their chronology that really sounds like Cursive to me before my recent deep dive into their discography.
On paper, it shouldn’t have worked. An emo concept album about a failing relationship loosely based on the singer’s own divorce doesn’t exactly sound like a formula for a hit record.
Lucky for all of us though, Cursive’s Domestica manages to avoid all of the self-indulgence and clunky storytelling that too many concept albums fail to avoid. Instead, it shows a huge leap forward in both Tim Kasher’s songwriting and the band’s musicianship, leading to an undisputed emo masterpiece.
After their Crank! Records debut Such Blinding Stars for Starving Eyes, Omaha natives Cursive joined up with the then-burgeoning Omaha record label Saddle Creek. In a few years time, Saddle Creek would become a staple of the underground emo-ish scene, enlisting such bands as Rilo Kiley, The Faint, and Bright Eyes to their roster.
Now, when people talk about Saddle Creek, Cursive is always one of the first bands mentioned. But on their second album, released just five years after the founding of the label, Cursive was still building their legend alongside their new label. And while it might not be remembered as one of their best works, The Storms of Early Summer: Semantics of Song is an important chapter in their mythology.
I’ve been a fan of Omaha’s Cursive for quite a while. I picked up a CD single of “Art is Hard” from my local music store in 12th grade, and I spun those two songs on repeat for weeks. I downloaded several songs from Domestica on LimeWire and burned them to my one of my many emo mixes. Through my “serious music fan” phase in college, The Ugly Organ was one of the few emo records that I still listened to regularly.
But as much as I love those records, I’ve never dug too deep into their earlier material. That is, until I bought a box of classic records from my friend Stephen that included most of the Cursive back catalog.
Cursive’s Tim Kasher has always had a knack for offering twisted, anguished rock and roll. Throughout their career, he has delved deeply into divorce, corrupt religion, art as masochism, and every neurosis you can think of.
But on Vitriola, he sounds downright demented. Continue reading