B-Side Guys

Cover versions typically fall into two camps: reverential reproductions or radical reinventions. Wyldest’s Valentine’s Day take on The Cure’s “Lovesong” carves a third path—one that honors the original’s emotional architecture while infusing it with the atmospheric textures that have become Zoe Mead’s signature.

Released via Hand In Hive, this rendition transforms Robert Smith’s 1989 declaration of devotion into something hazier and more contemplative. Where The Cure’s version pulses with understated urgency, Wyldest envelops these familiar phrases in layers of gauzy distortion and ethereal vocals that drift like love letters carried on a breeze.

The genius of Mead’s interpretation lies in how she preserves the mathematical precision of the original that she herself acknowledges: “I’ve always wanted to cover this song as it’s Robert Smith’s most underrated tune with its infectious melodies that intricately fit together like a puzzle.” Yet she solves this puzzle differently, allowing each piece to blur slightly at the edges through her dream pop sensibilities.

Most striking is how Mead’s production choices recontextualize the repeated pledge “However far away/I will always love you.” In The Cure’s hands, these words feel like a promise etched in stone. Through Wyldest’s shoegaze filter, they become more impressionistic—a truth understood but constantly shifting in appearance, like light refracting through water.

This approach aligns perfectly with Mead’s interpretation of the song as resistance against prescribed notions of romance: “We are conditioned from young to believe that love is this mystical thing and we have one soulmate etc and as we mature we come to realise that love can and should exist in many disguises.” When she sings “Whenever I’m alone with you/You make me feel like I am whole again,” the words float with a newfound ambiguity that suggests wholeness itself might be fluid rather than fixed.

Coming after her acclaimed 2023 record “Feed the Flowers Nightmares,” this standalone single offers intriguing hints at Mead’s creative trajectory. Her self-described “doom pop” aesthetic finds fresh expression here, suggesting that her current work on film and game scores has further expanded her sonic palette.

For an artist who thrives “at the intersection of cinematic and musical worlds,” Wyldest’s “Lovesong” demonstrates how effectively Mead can transform even the most familiar emotional terrain into something that feels simultaneously intimate and vast—a valentine that acknowledges love’s complexity without diminishing its power.