The Psychedelic Furs once held a special place in my heart more than ten years prior to the release of The World Outside.  Though by the time of this release, the 70’s were long over, the 80’s were over, and by this time I’d purchased my second home.  No longer was I mired in moodiness, or enveloped in depression, and while a bit of angst may have still highlighted the edges of my being, I wore it like I wore my tattoo, for few to see, and seldom talked about.So here I stand, over twenty five years from this album’s release, with the vinyl copy playing on a far too expensive turntable, and I’m wondering if I ever was that girl in the oversized thrift store coat and combat boots, if my head was ever in the space that perpetually occupies that of the Psychedelic Furs, and then wondered how the band members had managed to stay within that construct for so long without slitting their wrists, or overdosing in a warm bath, which of course caused me to travel further down that road and consider that perhaps The Furs weren’t really so angst ridden, and that like visual artists, had merely found a style that work for them, a style that was being discovered and rediscovered by others on their journey through life … and hoping that those fans had made it to the other side as well off as I have.Somehow these dark tunes sound so distant to me now, and yes, the voice of Richard Butler still sounds raspy and sincere, though traveling under such a dark cloud with weather reports continually indicating that rain was on the horizon for so long must surely have had it’s negative effects on a person’s psyche.  And perhaps The Furs as a band had decided that they needed a change, as The World Outside was to be their final outing, an album that was laced with songs that come across as more direct, with more subtle textures, less overwhelming, and with a sense of lightness and even warmth.  There are those who will suggest that while the release is filled with good songs, it’s not filled with great songs.  And to that end I would suggest that the album is filled with great songs, even a few anthems, it’s just that after so many years of this style and presentation, an album that would have been a crowing success at the beginning of their career, was now just more of the same, from a band who’ve managed to admit that enough is enough, and closed the book, as their core fans such as me, have moved on to more suitable climates, better clothing, and a life lived with far more sunshine.That in and of itself does not indicated that the music of The Furs will ever vanish from the streets, it still has its place, its charm, its mystique, it’s just that all of the above is now in the hands of younger people to discover, and wonder why this brilliant band had broken up.  And that works essentially because these new faces on the verge of discovery will have the entire catalog at their fingertip in one fell swoop … and it makes me smile to think that perhaps the Psychedelic Furs are being rediscovered on crackling vinyl records, by young people peeling back the sofa cushions to scrape together enough money for a pizza, as I had done so many years ago, keeping the music cycle of life in play.  And with those thoughts in mind, suddenly this very accessible album of understated stories and well played instrumentation doesn’t sound so bad.Review by Jenell Kesler