Daniel Kemp's Album Reviews
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The Cure
 
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Albums
Three Imaginary Boys (1979)
 

8/10 
Producer: Chris Parry
  1. 10:15 Saturday Night
  2. Accuracy
  3. Grinding Halt
  4. Another Day
  5. Object
  6. Subway Song
  7. Foxy Lady
  8. Meathook
  9. So What
  10. Fire in Cairo
  11. It’s Not You
  12. Three Imaginary Boys
  13. The Weedy Burton

It all started when a band named The Easy Cure won a competition with record label Hansa Records and received a recording contract.  However, the band terminated their contract with Hansa after they felt that their artistic freedom was being compromised.  Subsequently, the band shortened their name to The Cure and sent demo tapes out to a number of major record labels.  It would be the label Fiction, derived from Polydor records, which would ultimately sign The Cure and be their home for a number of years.
 
Opening song, 10:15 Saturday Night, had originally been the b-side to their debut single, Killing an Arab.  It is the ideal album opener, with the slinky guitar work slowly increasing into earshot before Smith reels off his now iconic lyric, “…and the tap drips, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip, drip...” During the song’s running time, Michael Dempsey, Porl Thompson and Lol Tolhurst have already proven to be adequate accomplices.  Accuracy plays host to a funky bass rhythm which carries things along nicely.  Perhaps it is a little too indistinguishable from the ska-infused tunes that The Clash was now delivering, but nevertheless it is still a great song.  Grinding Halt is very much the band’s own creation though and has a unique identity of its own.  The rhythm section of The Cure is very adept and more than capable of providing the necessary pace, which in turn gives the song its beating heart.  Robert Smith sounds as if he is having a whale of a time, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Everything’s coming to a grinding halt!”
 
I think that Another Day and the title-track are pioneers of the minimalist, gothic approach, which Robert Smith would take on the ensuing records.  The former has very clean sounding layered guitars, which bop around as Smith howls, “Something holds me… holds me… hypnotised…”, as if he is transfixed and in a trance.  Three Imaginary Boys isn’t dissimilar, but has less layers of instrumentation and is therefore rendered more direct.
 

So What is a form of expressionism beaten with the ugly stick.  Smith’s vocals crack, splinter and pierce my tolerance barrier.  The fact that he is essentially just shouting random inserts of little meaning causes me to cut my losses and just leave.   I find Object and It’s Not You to be acceptable, if unengaging punk romps.  Robert Smith has said that he detests Object and that it was forced upon the record by producer and label owner, Chris Parry.  I  personally find these songs impossible to tell apart from any other punk infused rants, which by the time of 1979, had inundated the chart.  In comparison, Fire in Cairo is a favourite of mine from the set.  The rolling tempo is perfectly suited to Smith’s tribute toward a love which burns like, “a fire in Cairo!”  The guitar work throughout is impressive and hints at what Porl Thompson would go on to achieve within his position in the band.
 
Of course I’ve been saving the best until last – the completely unexpected reimagining of Jimi Hendrix’s Foxy Lady.  The song isn’t so much given a makeover, but rather torn down, reconstructed from the ground up and reshaped into an unrecognisable behemoth of godly guitar work.  The tempo is put into overdrive and is driven by each band member simply giving it their all.  When you play air guitar in your bedroom, you cannot deny that THIS is what it sounds like.   The joke of course is that it wasn’t even meant to have made the final cut of Three Imaginary Boys.  It is sung by bassist Michael Dempsey and was little more than a soundcheck.
 
There will be no illusions here; this is a New-Wave/Punk record that has more in common with Blondie than the music that The Cure would eventually be known for. Having said this, if you dig deep, you will notice that some of the songs already carry the DNA structure that The Cure would infuse their songs with in the future.
 
All things considered it is a cracking debut album and a great start to The Cure’s legacy.

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Seventeen Seconds (1980)
 
 
5/10
 
Producer: Mike Hedges, Robert Smith
  1. A Reflection
  2. Play For Today
  3. Secrets
  4. In Your House
  5. Three
  6. The Final Sound
  7. A Forest
  8. M
  9. At Night
  10. Seventeen Seconds

In 1980 Robert Smith ensured that for the band’s second release he would have complete creative control over the direction of their music.   There have been two changes to the line-up of the band since Three Imaginary Boys.  Firstly, Simon Gallup has replaced Michael Dempsey on bass.  Secondly, Smith has employed Matthieu Hartley to play keyboards.   It’s fair to say that Matthieu’s synth work adds a new dimension to The Cure, giving the band’s music further depth.  It’s a far cry away from the New Wave/Punk sound that the band had fostered on their debut.

 

I’m going to mention the three instrumentals first.  We have A Reflection, which starts the album, then, Three and The Final Sound, which make an appearance half way through the LP.  All of which are absolutely horrendous pieces of garbage.   Creating an unsettling atmosphere and a genuine sense of danger is one thing, but to create a boring, unengaging and unlistenable mess, is quite another.  A Reflection is almost laughable - little more than a few solemn piano notes roll out, as the occasional strike of the guitar attempts to provide backup.  Using instruments sparingly to add layers of depth is something I’m all for, but here the execution of simplified instrumentation is just appalling.   I’d go on to describe the other two instrumentals but I just don’t have it in me.  Robert Smith, why have you forsaken me!

 

Play For Today is the first ‘proper’ song on the album.  The track is underpinned by Lol Tolhurst’s deadpan drumming, and Smith hasn’t really let go of his punk roots just yet.  I’d say that it was as good as anything from their debut, if it wasn’t for the dismal programmed smacks that occur at regular intervals in the background.  You will find that one of the album’s greatest weaknesses is that when a song is working well, Smith has to introduce at least one unpleasant piece of extra instrumentation to the soundscape.

 

Secrets and In Your House are the best tracks on the LP.  The former has a mellow guitar groove to it, which is matched by Gallup’s intimidating bass lines.  In Your House has a solid introduction in which multiple layers of instrumentation are slowly introduced; each one managing to complement the other well.  It’s probably the first time on the album where the band sounds comfortable playing with one another.
 
A Forest is the big daddy on the second side of the LP.  With a longer introduction than its single-release counterpart, it has to be admired.  In fact it is the introduction which makes the song; because by the time it starts ‘properly’ it is yet another song to descend into the realms of atrocity.  This is mostly thanks to Tolhurst’s soul destroying drumming which digs away at your inner-being.  Robert Smith obviously didn’t think ill of it though as it remains a band favourite when playing live.
 

The title track brings the album to a close in a most inadequate way.  It does little to light the musical fire in my heart, and I’d call it formulaic stagnation if this wasn’t the band’s first album to boast the ‘new’ Cure sound.  A very forced and selective group of guitar chords ring out as Smith decrees, “Time slips away, and the light begins to fade…” I couldn’t agree more Bob, as that is indeed what happens every time I listen to this album.
 

It was pretty obvious from the outset that Robert Smith was unhappy with how the band’s debut had turned out, so it’s only a fair conclusion when I say that Seventeen Seconds is the anti-Three Imaginary Boys.  It was certainly a new direction for the band, but unfortunately the ideas found on this album wouldn’t come to fruition until later recordings.
 
Q: What is Seventeen Seconds?
 

A: It’s exactly how long I can listen to this LP in one sitting.

 
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Faith (1981)
 
 
8.5/10
 
Producer: The Cure, Mike Hedges
  1. The Holy Hour
  2. Primary
  3. Other Voices
  4. All Cats Are Grey
  5. The Funeral Party
  6. Doubt
  7. The Drowning Man
  8. Faith
For this LP, out goes Matthieu on keyboards and Smith takes control of the musical decks.  Probably for the best to be honest, if you couldn't tell I'm not a fan of Seventeen Seconds.  Early Cure isn’t about pop melodies or sweeping guitars, it’s about creating a downbeat mood, perhaps a mood that could be called both gothic and haunting, yet with its feet stuck well within the boundaries of popular music.   The entire album is very bass orientated, and most of the songs revolve around a tempo set by the bass guitar, the exception being the keyboard heavy middle section of the LP.  More often than not, subtle drums and intricately placed guitar are only there to add to the overall atmosphere.
 
The opening song to this minor masterpiece, The Holy Hour, boasts some of the most sinister bass ever played by The Cure, not a feat to be scoffed out considering the intensity with which this band has played over their recording career.  The song starts with a spiralling thud of bass that loops repeatedly and causes the song to become a very claustrophobic piece to listen to, but enjoyable all the same.  It is the very representation of the stark and desolate wasteland that the album artwork so capably points to.
 
The singles from the album were Primary and Other voices.  Primary is the most melodic thing on the album, where two scratchy bass guitars can be found thundering across the scene at an extremely fast pace.  In my opinion Primary is the weakest song on the album, this is largely due to the fact that artistically it sticks out like a sore thumb.   Fortunately, the same cannot be said for Other Voices, a perfectly realised piece of music and one of the first classic singles to be released by The Cure.  Again, the bass comes crashing in and is placed extremely high in the mix. The electric guitar that is used sparingly in the background mirrors the bass and together they are a perfect marriage.
 
One of the most enjoyable tracks here is the extremely sad The Funeral Party, which laid a great template for what would follow toward the end of the decade with the keyboard laden Disintegration.  Smith delivers downright gloomy vocals in the way that only he can, as if he is genuinely mourning the loss of kin referred to in the song.
 

Doubt holds firmly onto the punk roots of the band’s debut, Three Imaginary Boys, as Smith yelps out his words of violent abuse.  In my opinion it joins Primary as the weakest moment on the album.  The reasons for me taking this critical angle are exactly the same as those that can be found when I described Primary.  The Drowning Man is possibly the most surreal, yet successfully atmospheric track on the album, and the imagery is horrific to say the least.  The vocals dash eerily from one speaker to the other and now we find that it’s the electric guitar's turn to shine.  One fret welcomes the next with open arms as the cold and heartless ambience rings out.

 
Things come to a natural end with the title track, the longest song from the 8 song set.  In terms of sound it isn’t dissimilar to the opening The Holy Hour but the tempo is certainly slowed down and dragged out for your listening pleasure.  Smith howls, “There is nothing left but faith”, with such belief that you wonder if this was less an artistic statement and more a cry for help, especially when taking into account the way his despair manifested itself a year later on Pornography.
 

Faith is easily the most accessible album from the band's early output and in my opinion, the best buy.  I felt that I had forced myself to get on with Seventeen Seconds, but that the attraction that I had found with Faith was more of a natural one.  I also find that it is their most important early album in terms of the sombre attitude Smith took towards creating the soundscape, as it is the one that they would repeat most in the future.

 
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Pornography (1982)
 
 
8/10
 
Producer: Phil Thornalley, The Cure
  1. One Hundred Years
  2. A short term Affect
  3. The Hanging Garden
  4. Siamese Twins
  5. The Figurehead
  6. A Strange Day
  7. Cold
  8. Pornography
I may as well be as honest as possible from the start.  You will either enjoy the sound and concept of this album or you won’t.  Robert Smith was spiralling out of control with drug problems at the time of recording and the poor bloke was being consumed with many sour thoughts, and that my friends, is the sound of Pornography. He was setting out to create an album as unlistenable, grim, glum and ugly as possible.
 
The album starts with the incredibly repetitive One Hundred Years which features some of the most robotic drumming on the album, but is redeemed almost entirely on the back of the spiralling guitar riff that will milk your udders from the first listen.  As for the lyrics? They are as dark as to be expected.  The opening lyric of, “It doesn’t even matter if we all die…”, not only sums up this particular song but almost the entire album.   A Short term Effect carries on in much the same fashion, but with some heavy distortion and only what I can describe as a muddy guitar effect making the whole song seem almost as a hallucinogenic trip.  As with most of the album, the melodies are there, you just have to work for them.
 

What happens next though is rather brilliant.  Suddenly the album explodes with the exciting and exhilarating The Hanging Garden.  Initiated by over-the-top primal drumming and then swiftly followed by a bass guitar furiously trying to keep up with the pace.  This is all surpassed though by Smith yelping “Creatures kissing in the rain… shapeless in the dark again”, over precision played guitar; his voice right at the front of the mix, the lyrics demanding your full attention.   It provides a much needed change of pace, because the next song Siamese Twins is quite possibly the one single most depressing song I have ever heard.  It’s impressively grim, but at the same time it seems forced and unnatural.

 
The Figurehead is probably my favourite track here.  Where the previous song seemed forced, there is no escaping The Figurehead's genuine misery. The drumming follows a set path for the most part, yet subtle interchanges in pace create an uneasy atmosphere.  What really speaks to you here though is Robert’s spidery guitar lines. His lyrics are sad, so sad, “A night of screams tear my clothes as the figurines tighten…” The song makes you want to help this man; God only knows what Smith was experiencing mentally at this time.  Cold is a retread of The Figurehead but with disturbing synths added into the mix.  It will be just as pleasing, if not more so, for the misery addict that lives deep inside each and every one of you!
 
The closing title track is an experiment and a half.  A distorted conversation starts off the song before rolling drums and God knows what else are slowly introduced until everything is consumed by an all encompassing dirge. After several minutes of seemingly little change the pleasingly horrid lyric of, “A Hand in my mouth and a life spills into the flowers,” which switches any doubt u may have had about ending the album like this for sheer delight.  It is, well, just different to anything you have ever heard.  So what you basically get here is 3 exceptional tracks, 3 great ones, and 2 good ones.  Take them together though, as you should and you will almost certainly be left impressed.  I must stress that your enjoyment of this album will hang upon two things.  Firstly, that you can appreciate misery in all of the various forms and secondly, that you have the patience of a saint for these songs to sink in and to make sense.
 
It is a true relic from the 'Gothic' era.
 
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Japanese Whispers (1983)
 
 
7/10
 
Producer: Chris Parry, Steve Nye, Robert Smith, Phil Thornalley
  1. Let’s Go To Bed
  2. The Dream
  3. Just One Kiss
  4. The Upstairs Room
  5. The Walk
  6. Speak my Language
  7. Lament
  8. The Lovecats
Japanese Whispers is a compilation album, consisting of a number of singles and their respective b-sides that The Cure released between 1982 and 1983.   At this time The Cure had been reduced to a duo, Simon Gallup having left the band after the tour of their previous album, Pornography.   Robert Smith’s friendship had disintegrated with Gallup, a fist fight ensued and Smith decided to cut all ties with him.
 
Another change to the line up was Smith’s decision to have Lol Tolhurst exchange the drums for the keyboard. This was certainly the most significant change in The Cure’s line up in a long time and it would be a position he would hold until his removal from the band in 1989.  The singles featured here, which are pop music through and through, make a stark comparison next to the gothic trilogy of albums that the band had recorded between 1980 and 1982.  Keeping this in mind, it is surprising to discover that the accompanying B-sides are as dark as anything the band had recorded before, albeit more melodic.
 

Let’s Go to Bed was the first single to be released and its simplicity is both redeeming and detracting in equal measure.  It had previously been a guitar driven song that had had its inception while Smith was writing demos for Pornography.  The melody hangs upon Smith’s attempts to bridge each verse with “do-do-do-do”, and it’s a good stab at making a pop single.  The problem is that today in 2009, it now sounds entirely like a product of poorly produced 1980’s music.  The Cure made some of the best music of the 1980’s, sadly, this isn’t it.  Despite this, the song’s b-side, Just One Kiss, is splendid.  After a couple of listens it isn’t too hard to see why Smith himself had wished it had got a single release.  Stylistically it shares a likeness with the kind of ethereal ballad that the band had perfected on 1981’s Faith.  The chugging bass line propels the song with a forward momentum that is retained until the end of its running time.

 

I do not think it an inaccuracy when I say that in most cases the b-side is stronger than the actual single it was paired off with, the exception being The Lovecats.  Lament, a bass driven dirge, only proves this, as it too would have made a fine single in its own right.  Keyboard blasts are intermittently spliced with a chilling guitar, and to top it all off, Smith also gets a chance to display his banshee’s wail upon the opening lyric, “Today there was a tragedy underneath the bridge…” Is it one of their best early compositions? Why certainly!
 
The last song on the album, The Lovecats, is positively the best song here.  It had been the band’s first single to reach the top 10 in the UK chart, peaking at number 7.  The bass work is excellent; the suspended notes mimicking the way a cat walks to a tee.  It would appear that Smith was becoming ever fonder of wordless syllables acting as a bridge and sure enough, his “ba-ba-ba-ba” once again connects the verses faultlessly.
 
I know my praise for this set of songs has been great, yet I wouldn’t recommend Japanese Whispers as one of your first purchases of The Cure, as out of the band’s entire back catalogue, it is the one which now sounds the most dated.   Thankfully, the strength of the song writing still shines through and for those of you who have a love of The Cure, there is plenty to enjoy here.
 
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The Top (1984)
 
 
6.5/10
 
Producer: David M. Allen, Chris Parry, Robert Smith
  1. Shake Dog Shake
  2. Birdmad Girl
  3. Wailing Wall
  4. Give Me It
  5. Dressing Up
  6. The Caterpillar
  7. Piggy in the Mirror
  8. The Empty World
  9. Bananafishbones
  10. The Top
The Top is probably the ultimate example of ‘The Transitional Album’.  Everything about it reeks of indecisiveness and the LP lacks any sort of cohesive structure.  The songs are far from bad, but they lack a certain something, which is no surprise when considering that Robert Smith played every instrument on the album, with the exception being the drums!  This album is proof that the lack of a proper backing band is going to have its limitations.
 
Shake Dog Shake is an admirable opening song, the bass work is decimating and splits the intro into half.  Smith then unleashes a guitar riff which circles like a bird of prey, and he ensures that he is at his most ghoulish when howling, “Wake up in the new blood!”  Birdmad Girl is pretty good effort too.  The song has an Eastern flavour to it and recalls themes of Arabian knights, amongst other things.  The lyrics are bizarre and in keeping with the psychedelic sound of the LP.  Wailing Wall continues this theme and surpasses Birdmad Girl in the quality stakes.  It is probably also the first Cure song to boast a widescreen, ambitious instrumental introduction, whereby multiple layers are slowly introduced.  The keyboards are fantastic and add to the overall impression of residing in a foreign land.
 
I’m not a big fan of Give Me It.  It is a tired retread of Smith’s punkier moments and it specifically brings to mind the song Doubt, which is from their 1981 album Faith.  In much the same way as that song didn’t fit in on Faith, Give Me It is the black sheep of the family on The Top.  Dressing Up is Robert Smith’s must feminine moment ever put to record and it’s simply magical.  The wind pipes are a clever inclusion and provide the unsteady tempo, which is the centrepiece to the song.  Smith declares, “Dressing up to kiss, dressing up to touch all this,” in one of his best vocal performances yet.  The Caterpillar was the only single to be taken from the album.  It reached number 14 in the UK chart and it is one of their best mid 80’s singles.  In an acoustic turn from The Cure, it turns out to be a brilliant summery tune which fills your heart with joy!
 
I really want to like Piggy in the Mirror, but the production does it no favours and it sounds entirely like a bi-product of the 1980’s music industry.  The keyboards in particular haven’t aged all that well and unfortunately this contributes towards it being an unnecessary addition to the album.  I needn’t tell you that Bananafishbones is a nod towards Tom Waits’ album Swordfishtrombones.  The song is structured exceedingly well, with Smith’s eerie “ooooo-ooooo-ooooo”, bridging the verses in a most maniacal fashion, while the organ playing is so mad that I almost want to dance to it.
 

The Top would be the last album in the Cure’s catalogue in which the title-track would close the LP, until Bloodflowers in 2000.  The simplicity of the track certainly recalls the band’s early efforts, particularly Faith.  It actually brings the album to a close in a really fine way, with the precision played guitar work generating an uneasy atmosphere.
 
The Top sounds just as you’d expect the Cure to sound after the flurry of singles they had released and which were collected on Japanese Whispers.  The underlying feeling when listening to The Top is that Robert Smith was unsure as to which direction he should take the band, and the result is an album which is neither committed to a pop direction or their early gothic direction.  Despite this, it is still an entertaining but less than essential purchase.
 
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The Head on the Door (1985)
 
 
8.5/10
 
Producer: Robert Smith, Dave Allen
  1. In Between Days
  2. Kyoto Song
  3. The Blood
  4. Six Different Ways
  5. Push
  6. The Baby Screams
  7. Close to Me
  8. A Night like This
  9. Screw
  10. Sinking

The Head on the Door is the sixth studio album by The Cure and it marks the moment in time where they made the leap from being a great band to an exceptional one.  After their doom and gloom laden early 80’s output, Robert Smith had resorted to the catchy synth pop that was found on Japanese Whispers.  The psychedelic transitional album The Top followed, now one year later we have The Head on the Door.

 

Some will tell you this is a straight up pop album and that Robert Smith sold out to his depressed fan base.  That is something which I disagree with wholeheartedly, because if anything The Head on the Door is just as unhappy as Pornography; it just isn’t carrying a declaration banner around this time and wearing a T-shirt with Prozac written on the front.  Whereas Pornography was meticulously designed and built around only the most stubborn workmanship, The Head on the Door is a far more experimental recording and is willing to actually create a hint of melody.

 

There was good news all round for The Cure with the arrival of this album.  Firstly, Bassist Simon Gallup has rejoined the band, having settled any differences he may have had with Smith.  Secondly, Porl Thompson joined the band as a full time member.  He had contributed a little to The Top but was yet to be truly inducted to the band.  And last but by no means least, superb and often innovative drummer Boris Williams has joined the band.

 
In Between Days starts things off in the best way imaginable.  It isn’t just one of The Cure’s best songs; it is one of the best pop songs in the entire history of popular music.  It is instantly recognisable from its short drum roll introduction and then followed by only the most striking of guitar work; it continues to be a testament to Robert Smith’s genius.  The actual main driving rhythm is played by an acoustic guitar which is quite a change for The Cure, but we will be seeing more of the acoustic guitar a little later on.  With a running time of less than 3 minutes it is an exhilarating experience.
 
Making a stark comparison, the bleak Kyoto Song is placed as song number 2.  Now, this is what shizzles my nizzle when people say that Robert Smith sold out to his legion of original fans.  Kyoto Song is just as dark as anything from Faith or Pornography, if not more so.  Simon Gallup is back with a vengeance and his devastating playing is unrelenting in its assault on the aural senses.  Smith is downright creepy when he sings, “It looks good!! It tastes like nothing on earth! It’s so smooth! It even feels like skin” In what are possibly his most sadistic vocals yet recorded.  The Blood features a flamenco guitar and was Robert’s attempt to change what people thought The Cure meant.  For him, there are no boundaries to the band’s sound, so this is further exploration into what they could achieve.  The guitar solo at 2 minutes 20 seconds sounds wonderful and the castanets throughout the song are cleverly used.
 

This album also sees the band implementing the use of longer instrumental introductions, something which would soon become The Cure’s trademark.  Push is the first song on the LP to boast a noticeable change in atmosphere, with a guitar and keyboard infused intro which lasts for well over 2 minutes.  It’s an excellent addition to the album and the production is so crystal clear it only emphasises the quality of musicianship on offer.

 

Close To Me was the second and final single to be released from the album.  Robert Smith really hit gold with the couple of straight out pop moments on The Head on the Door, and the restrained musicianship has a claustrophobic sting in its tail.  The song sees Robert Smith’s whispered words carefully detailing the subject of fear and seeing things in the dark.  The single version of Close To Me features a brass section in its closing moments and it reached number 13 in the UK singles chart.

 

Screw is the downright weirdest moment on the album, but has an endearing personality within its demo-like quality.   Gallup’s bass is turned up to 11 and rattles out this really compressed set of notes, while the most rudimentary of keyboard work plinks in the background.  It is thoroughly danceable though, which is a great attribute.  What can I say, I like it.   Sinking closes the album and it somehow manages to blast everything else out of the water.  If you are a fan of The Cure’s recordings which boast a longer running time and have an epic overture then you are going to be very impressed.  Smith sounds like the most distressed soul alive in what is one of the defining vocal performances of his career.  The keyboards are… well, don’t even get me started on the stunning keyboard work, or I’ll be here forever.

 
The Head on the Door is without a doubt the band’s best album up until 1985 and it marks a significant change in Robert Smith’s quality control.  With a running time of less than 40 minutes, The Head on the Door is perfectly edited; it is concise with its artistic direction and has only the greatest of melodies, vocal hooks and musicianship.
 
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Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987)
 
 
9.5/10
 
Producer: David M. Allen, Robert Smith
  1. The Kiss
  2. Catch
  3. Torture
  4. If Only Tonight We Could Sleep
  5. Why Can’t I Be You?
  6. How Beautiful You Are
  7. The Snakepit
  8. Hey You!
  9. Just Like Heaven
  10. All I Want
  11. Hot Hot Hot!!!
  12. One More Time
  13. Like Cockatoos
  14. Icing Sugar
  15. The Perfect Girl
  16. A Thousand Hours
  17. Shiver and Shake
  18. Fight
Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me is the seventh studio album by The Cure.  Released in 1987, the album featured some of the band’s most popular songs and helped cement their place as one of the definitive bands of the 1980s.  Robert Smith took advantage of the then relatively new CD format, knowing that he could fit far more material on a single CD than he could ever hope to get onto vinyl, and this landed The Cure with their first double album.  However, even still, Smith had far too much new material and due to CD time constraints, the track Hey You! had to be omitted from the original release (CDs used to have approximately a 74 minute running time).  Thankfully, this most mysterious pop gem has been restored to the tracklisting with the 2006 re-issue of Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me.
 

This record is without a doubt the most varied Cure record of all time.  A true kaleidoscope of sounds in every sense of the word, it contains some of the band’s most dark, peculiar and courageous material and successfully pairs it off with some of The Cure’s cutest pop gems yet.
 

The album begins with the terrifying The Kiss.  I don’t think before, or since, that Simon Gallup’s bass and Boris William’s drums have ever been mastered this loud, with every thud and drum roll during the introduction recorded for maximum impact.  The song lasts for a little over 6 minutes, but is essentially one massive guitar solo from Robert Smith, in which he plays as if his life depended upon it.  It’s almost 4 minutes until he unleashes his aggrieved howl, “Oh kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, your tongue is like poison, so swollen it fills up my mouth!”  Listen to his voice tremble during the end of that verse, isn’t it delightful?  Next up, and making a lush contrast, is Catch.  Surely one of The Cure’s most delicate, cutesy singles of all time, it truly plays to the band’s strengths and ends up a runaway success.  Firstly, it allows Smith to shine, as he pens a song to a lost love from his years of adolescence.  Musically, the band is already showing noticeable variety on this record, with a mournful violin section and delicate guitar work providing the back-bone to Catch.  The lyrics rely heavily on reminiscing, “Sometimes I used to try and catch her, but never even caught her name!”  But we all know this is when Smith is at his best.
 

The sitar dominated If Only Tonight We Can Sleep is one of my all time favourite Cure songs, primarily because it sounds completely out of this world and unlike anything else the band have ever put their name to.  It boasts a proper, atmospheric introduction, whereby Boris William’s inventive percussion is given the room to reach a peak, while Smith’s subtle guitar inserts work only to enhance the track.  Lyrically, it is one of Smith’s most lavish accomplishments, “If only tonight we could sleep in a bed made of flowers.  If only tonight we could fall in a deathless spell.”
 

Next, I’m going to talk about my favourite song on the record and indeed, my favourite pop song of all time, Just Like Heaven.  Sometimes you find a song which stirs an emotion deep inside you which you cannot always describe, or you cannot categorically state as either being a sad emotion or a happy one.  Just Like Heaven does just that for me, it generates emotions inside of me which I never knew existed.  The track features one of the band’s most glorious introductions, as each instrument is launched one after the other, until Smith’s awe-inspiringly beautiful guitar riff is brought in.   During the final act of the song, my jaw hits the floor and the tears rush to my eyes when Smith sings in a most swoonsome vocal performance, “You’re just like a dream… just like a dream…”, and the heartbreaking piano line is brought in.   It is, well, I guess it’s just like heaven.  But what tops it off is that the inspiration for the song came from a romantic walk along the sea-shore with his school sweetheart and wife to be, Mary Poole.  Can you imagine anything else so perfect and sweet?
 

Next up is the funky Hot Hot Hot!!!  Surely re-writing the rules about what kind of band you perceived The Cure to be, it has a rich bass groove and an enchanting rhythm guitar from Smith.  The crazed keyboard pumps after the chorus are delightful and Smith plays the gasping nutcase to perfection, “The first time I saw lightning strike I saw it underground, sixteen feet below the street the sky came crashing down!”  Robert Smith is so damn cool.
 

The album just keeps on giving throughout its running time and the next track proving this is the trance-inducing beauty of One More Time.  The musical landscape is densely populated by wind pipes and tantalizing guitar playing, which create a mental image of stars and the night sky.  “I’d love to touch the sky tonight; I’d love to touch the sky.  So, take me in your arms and lift me like a child”, cries Smith longingly, in one of his finest vocal performances.
 

The loose-jazz feel of Icing Sugar is most delicious, featuring one of the most ingenious bass lines on the record.  It has a curious, rolling, disco-like theme to it, but is topped off by scrumptious saxophone playing from guest musician Andrew Brennen.  It’s not the album’s finest moment, but it’s worth noting that even this far into the record’s running time it is still able to surprise us the way it does, with fresh ideas.
 

I’ll close my review by talking about one of my personal faves out of the final few songs on Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me, and that track is Shiver and Shake.  Smith has stated he wrote the song about band member Lol Tolhurst, Tolhurst’s numerous addictions and his deteriorating role in the band.  All I can say is that I would have loved to have seen Tolhurst’s face when Smith brought this one into the office, “You’re just a waste of time, you’re just a barren face, you’re just three sick holes that run like sores, you’re a f*cking waste!!! The band plays in a hostile way right the way through Shiver and Shake; it is one of The Cure’s most destructive recordings and Smith is on fire both vocally and lyrically, damning his workmate to hell.
 

A sprawling masterpiece of considerable scope, Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me makes for essential listening.  Fans of The Cure should already own this masterwork, and any discerning music fan would do well to rush out immediately and buy a copy.  Robert Smith and The Cure had hit their stride and were going from strength to strength.  But even better was to come in the shape of their next album, Disintegration.
 
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Disintegration (1989)
 
 
Producer: Robert Smith, David M. Allen
 
10/10
  1. Plainsong
  2. Pictures of You
  3. Closedown
  4. Love song
  5. Last Dance
  6. Lullaby
  7. Fascination Street
  8. Prayers for Rain
  9. The Same Deep Water as You
  10. Disintegration
  11. Homesick
  12. Untitled  

After the comprehensive range of songs on their previous studio album, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, The Cure returned in 1989 with one of the greatest albums of all time - Disintegration.  It marks a return to the gloomy mope-rock of their early trilogy of albums – Seventeen Seconds, Faith and Pornography – although the most notable difference this time around is that bandleader Robert Smith has 10 years of recording experience under his belt and finally has the technical skills to match his ambition.

 

I want to get a couple of things out of the way before I continue with my review.  Firstly, Disintegration is the greatest album ever recorded, period.  That includes all records which I have ever heard and anything which I am ever likely to hear.  I am so in love with this record and all of the lasting messages which it conveys – intolerable despair, unbearable isolation, insufferable loneliness, undying love and the disintegration of relationships – that my review may take on a far more informal approach than usual and this is down to the simple fact that I have lived and breathed this album.  It is sad to say as much, but this record is a large part of my life and will remain so until the day I expire.

 

Quite unlike anything else the band would ever record, the record clocks in at an impressive 72 minutes.  The most notable shift in style is that the short pop gems which could be found on Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me are a thing of the past and that this album is incredibly slow and unhurried, the calming arrangements second to none.  Robert Smith could have quite easily taken months to produce and arrange each one of these tracks, which boast running times of up to and over nine minutes.  As one piece of instrumentation is brought in, another effortlessly interlocks with it, until you have a sea of rising and falling grandeur washing over you.  I’ve never heard such a carefully considered recording in all my life. 

 

This brings me nicely onto the topic of Disintegration’s production techniques.  Each track sounds spacious, the soundscapes emerge open and vast, and the arrangements appear unforced and natural.  While The Cure’s 1982 album, Pornography, is often compared with this work of art, the two recordings couldn’t be further apart where musicality is concerned.  Pornography was miserable and depressing, the music unsympathetic and ugly, the production claustrophobic and closed.  And as much as that record rocked out in places, it was forced and oddly unattractive, especially to the first time listener.  Disintegration still features a miserable set of songs, but here the music and production has been so well thought-out that you become fully engrossed and absorbed in each track.  You become so lost within this record’s overwhelming magnificence that it hardly matters Disintegration is merely saying, ‘The world is unfair,’ in twelve similar, yet subtly altered ways.  Never has a style of production suited a set of songs as well as this.

 

Before I get on with talking about some of the songs, one last area needs to be mentioned - the lyrics.  Oh, how the lyrics are some of the finest poetry every written.  Robert Smith has become wrapped up in his song writing at this stage of his career, so much so that you feel for him during each cry for help and revulsion from this world’s ghastliness.

 

Plainsong opens proceedings how they intend to continue - enduring and roomy, dreamy and comforting.  Breathtaking from the off, Plainsong delivers a glistening anthem full of icy keyboards and suspended guitar notes, the mood of the song smothering you in its shimmering beauty.  Whenever I talk about romantic declarations, this is what I have in mind.  Robert Smith, you are my saviour.  The monumental inclusion of the new wave colossus, Pictures of You, paved the way for myriads of emotionally despondent teenagers, as Smith brings with him one of his more passionate vocal deliveries.  My heart breaks in two when he gets to the lyric, “There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more than to feel you deep in my heart!”  Pictures of You is also a great example of the grand arrangements which are to be found on Disintegration, as the song progressively builds to the sudden explosion of life which occurs a third of the way through.

 

Third song, Closedown, is notable for the fact that it features only one verse, no chorus and is without a true melody.  The cavernous drumming paves the way, as a vast bombardment of keyboards halo around the song’s perimeter.  You almost forget to breathe as you listen intently to this immersive lamentation.  Love Song comes as welcome respite after the opening torrent of songs and is probably the most upbeat and catchy number to be found here.  Bearing in mind Love Song was written as a wedding present to his soon to be wife, Robert Smith has never again sounded so fascinated and in love, “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again. Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again.”  Beautiful, honest and true, this is a glorious addition to the record as a whole.

 

The pulsating and menacing introduction to Fascination Street should have you quaking in your boots, and if it doesn’t you are the Devil himself.  The repetition of the song should grate, but it doesn’t.  It just keeps on going, building up strong momentum and stunning structure, until the bass line becomes unbelievably alluring and as the title of the song indicates, fascinating.  Prayers for Rain and The Same Deep Water as You are akin to slowly drowning in an ocean of despair, or gradually being suffocated by an intense despondency.  My God, the musicianship throughout is so beautiful it makes me want to weep with joy.  The Same Deep Water as You is a particular standout for me, with its lengthy intro & outro and slow but sure pace, making sure that each second of its nine minute running time is essential.

 

The title-track returns to the profound rhythmic repetition of Fascination Street, although now with a heavier reliance on keyboards.  Robert Smith’s gloom-laden suffering reaches an excruciating zenith here, “Oh, I miss the kiss of treachery, the shameless kiss of vanity, the soft, the black and the velvety!”  This is the soundtrack to your world falling down around you and nothing shall remain.  Like some sort of sick and twisted joke on Smith’s part, Disintegration closes with the relatively bouncy Untitled.  It provides a syrupy resolution after Disintegration’s cruel world, especially with regards to its reflective thoughts, “Never quite said what I wanted to say to you, and never quite managed the words to explain to you.”  Like the other eleven songs on the album, it is a slow train coming and eventually socks you one right upon the jaw.

 

It took me a great deal of time before I felt I could write even a sentence about Disintegration.  It is without a doubt my favourite album of all time and I am unapologetically in love with it.  Of course, producing an album of such peerless quality would prove to be a tough act to follow, and The Cure, while still releasing a couple more must-have albums, have always struggled to replicate the awe-inspiring successes of Disintegration.
 
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Wish (1992)
 
 
9/10
 
Producer: Robert Smith, David M. Allen
  1. Open
  2. High
  3. Apart
  4. From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea
  5. Wendy Time
  6. Doing the Unstuck
  7. Friday I’m in Love
  8. Trust
  9. A Letter to Elise
  10. Cut
  11. To Wish Impossible Things
  12. End  

Released in 1992, Wish is the ninth studio album by The Cure.  Unleashed three years after Disintegration set a new benchmark for popular music, it is at first near impossible to view Wish as anything but a step backwards in terms of quality after such a mesmerising achievement as Disintegration.  The history of popular music is littered by musicians who have released their best work, then only to fail at replicating its success and to later wander off and disappear into the ether.  To fully appreciate Wish one has to take a step back, to forget about Disintegration and its numerous accolades, and to value Wish for what it is – a thoroughly excellent alternative rock album and the finest summation of the many different sides of The Cure.

 

As a collective set of songs it really does bring all the different sides of The Cure to the table.  Whether you are a fan of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me and its praiseworthy pop partialities, or Disintegration’s majestic, towering progressive arrangements, there is something for everybody here, the casual admirer and the adoring diehard fan.  It also brings enough new ideas to the table to keep things exciting, be it Robert Smith’s new found love for the electric guitar after the keyboard heavy Disintegration, or his decorous ballads, such as Apart, where his vocal chords have never shown such powerful coercion and been so emotionally vibrant.

 

In a novel attempt at individuality, Wish opens with a track which leaves no ambiguity over its position on the tracklisting, the simply entitled Open.  If ever your conscience tells you to stop at your alcohol limit heed its warnings.  “So, here I go, here I go again”, mumbles an intoxicated Smith, “(I’m) falling into strangers and it’s only just eleven!!”  The billowing guitar riffs uncannily capture the swaying movements one is given over to after a little too much to drink.  Certainly their heaviest opening track to date, Open’s themes are a rarity in The Cure’s history, in as much as it sees Robert Smith pull his head down from the clouds – a place where he so often dwells - and deal with a subject other than love.  Things crash back to the ornate qualities of old on High, one of Robert Smith’s best post-Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me pop songs, jingles all-inclusive.  Ringing out with a beautifully polished chime, High is easily up there with some of The Cure’s best work.  And, yes, that is including In Between Days from The Head on the Door and Just Like Heaven from Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me.

 

Arguably the centrepiece of the record, From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea not only boasts an awesome title but has the music to back it up.  Fans of Disintegration’s prudent use of layered instrumentation will have an aural orgasm at this masterpiece.  One of Robert Smith’s most forlorn tales of self-destruction, From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea features the agonising cries of a man who keeps going back to the girl whom he knows is just no good for him, “I wish I could just stop, I know another moment would break my heart, too many tears, too many times, too many years I’ve cried over you!!”  And like a moth to the flame, he continues to get burnt to times indefinite.  It earns itself one more brownie point for Smith’s acutely distressed vocals, which cause you to feel every ounce of his bitter affliction and emotional ailment.

 

Trust is a terrifically disconsolate song, one which has brought about tears many a time.  It’s the sombre piano and keyboard fusillade which does it, along with that vocal performance, which seems to perfectly sum up my fear of losing my one true love to a detrimental bout of doubt, “Still the hardest part for you - to put your trust in me. I love you more than I can say, why won’t you just believe?”  Can a man help but to be moved by this song?  I challenge you to sit by and not shed a single tear.
 
Fear not, it’s not all doom and gloom throughout Wish.

 

Just kidding, of course it is.  One of the album’s three singles, A Letter to Elise, sees Smith air the desire to deceive oneself into falling in love with a possible companion, but no matter how hard he tries he just cannot keep the lie alive, “I just take as much as you can throw, and then I throw it all away… Yesterday I stood and stared wide-eyed in front of you.  And the face I saw looked back the way I wanted to!”  On an album overflowing with credible tales of woeful tribulation, A Letter to Elise stands out from the crowd, as the xylophone and acoustic guitars provide an exact counterpoint to the trouble burdened mood of the words.

 

Unsurprisingly for an album beginning with a song entitled Open, it closes with a track called End.  In amongst a delirious spiral of bass, Smith delivers one final cry of despair, “Please stop loving me,” and in an impressive attempt to appeal to both sides of the fan base, he counteracts his crazed notions by humming between verses, a la The Cure’s 1982 single Let’s Go to Bed.  Wish is an unbelievable album; there is no doubt about that.  At first, it may appear to struggle, but that’s only because it is the successor to the greatest album every made (If you still hadn’t realise, Disintegration is the name of that record).  Taken as it is, Wish is one of The Cure’s strongest records and in my opinion sits in the top three of their very best albums.

 
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Bloodflowers (2000)

Producer: Robert Smith, Paul Corkett

8.5/10

  1. Out of This World
  2. Watching Me Fall
  3. Where the Birds Always Sing
  4. Maybe Someday
  5. The Last Day of Summer
  6. There Is No If…
  7. The Loudest Sound
  8. 39
  9. Bloodflowers  

Released in 2000, Bloodflowers is the eleventh album by British band The Cure.  The Cure’s 1996 album, Wild Mood Swings, was met with generally poor reception by both fans and critics alike, and was heavily criticised for being overlong, containing too much filler and injecting a bogus sense of merriment into many of the tracks.  Kindly, Robert Smith crept back into his seemingly hollow shell of a life and later returned with the cheerless Bloodflowers.

 

One of my preferred albums by The Cure, Bloodflowers is the spiritual successor to their 1989 masterpiece, Disintegration (Robert Smith himself billing it as the third part of a trilogy, beginning with their 1982 album Pornography, continuing with 1989’s Disintegration, and concluding here).  Returning to such a tried and tested formula could only reap worthwhile results.  As did Disintegration before it, the songs have extensive, beautiful introductions, which effortlessly capture the listener’s attention, before progressively multiplying the layers of instrumentation, leaving you meditatively floating upon a sea of uninhibited depth.

 

Whereas Disintegration opted for waves upon waves of keyboards and shimmering guitars to achieve their superlative accumulative effect, Bloodflowers instead chooses to lean towards a more guitar-based offering.  With the odd exception, Bloodflowers is a largely acoustic affair.  The songs no longer ravage you with their fierce desperation and candid home truths; everything is a lot more gentle and judicious this time around.  Surely, this can only be put down to Robert Smith approaching his fortieth birthday at time of writing and recording.  And boy are middle-aged men bitter towards life.  The songs are no longer a razor-sharp retaliation and venting of fury towards life.  Now, his verse is written in a brutally disparaging manner, with an unsympathetic eye towards life’s affairs.  Yes, you could say that Bloodflowers is an album for the sceptical older person, if not for everyone with a brooding sense of discontentment.

 

With an echelon of unyielding acoustic guitars, flattering piano and unexpectedly optimistic slide guitar, opener Out of This World lives up to the promises of its title.  A sad realisation that good things are never meant to last, it gives us a taste for the sorrow to come.  “When we look back at it all, as I know we will – you and me wide-eyed,” sings Smith, “I wonder, will we really remember, how it feels to be this alive!”  Smith sings the whole thing beautifully, his voice now a cushion of calm for your head to rest upon. Nothing is going to divide opinion more than the eleven minute monster, Watching Me Fall, which is one of the album’s heavier tracks.  Very seldom do we find a song featuring the same levels of self-analytical criticism as we have here.  The army of guitars and their unforgettable riffs make sure that you cherish the lengthy running time.  Also, one must note what is unquestionably the greatest finale to any Cure song ever: “I’m watching me screeeeeeeeeaaam!!!!!”  It is simply awesome, my friends.

 

Should we criticise those who long for something better?  Robert Smith thinks so – cue Where the Birds Always Sing, featuring yet another guitar riff to be etched on your memory.  “The world is neither fair nor unfair,” explains Smith, “So one survives, the others die, and you always want a reason why.”  The tone of Smith’s voice, although soft and refined, indicates frustration at his own unsatisfying answers, as he attempts to reason with both himself and another party, “The world is neither just not unjust, it’s just us trying to feel that there’s some sense in it!”

 

I absolutely adore The Loudest Sound, if only for the enchanting lyrics.  At its heart is a tale of true love and the happiness it brings.  The song illustrates the comforting nature of enjoying each other’s company, so much so that words do not have to be said, you both just know how important you are to each other.  In this case, the loudest sound Robert Smith describes is in fact silence.  You know you have found true love when you can find solace in just holding one another and relishing the inexpressible sense of safety, security and tranquillity.  Idyllic, in other words.

 

Bloodflower’s other heavy rocker is 39, which finds us looking in on Smith as he approaches his fortieth birthday, hence the numerical figure where usually there’d be a title.  No less enjoyable than Watching Me Fall, 39 swallows you up into its cutthroat cyclone of obstinate guitars, which are swiftly followed by a certain Mr Robert Smith consuming you with his aggrieved ululation, “The fire is almost out and there’s nothing left to burn!”  Oh yes there is, Mr Smith, you have plenty to burn yet!  The title-track closes the album.  “‘This world never stops’, you said,” quotes Smith, “‘this wonder never leaves.  The time will never come to say goodbye!’”  Its poised pacing suits this sorrowful elegy to an endless love which didn’t live up its promises and, well, died.  Bloodflowers is a fine way to end the album.

 

For a Cure fan, Bloodflowers is a dream come true, and for everyone else it makes for a damn fine listen.  The formula which made Disintegration such a success is back, and while Bloodflowers is no Disintegration, it’s certainly the next best thing.  After all, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
 
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The Cure (2004)

Producer: Robert Smith, Ross Robinson, Jesse Cannon

6/10

  1. Lost
  2. Labyrinth
  3. Before Three
  4. The End of the World
  5. Anniversary
  6. Us or Them
  7. Alt. end
  8. (I Don’t Know What’s Going) On
  9. Taking Off
  10. Never
  11. The Promise
  12. Going Nowhere  

Released in the summer of 2004, this is the self-titled twelfth album by The Cure.  After 1996’s Wild Mood Swings had bombed and 2000’s Bloodflowers had been received lukewarmly by critics and fans alike, Robert Smith probably returned home with a bigger frown upon his face than usual.  The Cure were no longer darlings of the music scene, and in the new millennium apathetic receptions to their albums were very much common ground.

 

The resulting album from all this indifference and lack of interest has seen Robert Smith team up with heavy metal rock producer Ross Robinson.  Now, no need to be concerned, he hasn’t turned The Cure into a gleeful Slipknot parody, but has instead given them a very ‘fresh’ and exciting live sound.  It’s just a shame that they forgot about crafting the songs along the way! Make no mistake, The Cure is almost the worst album in the band’s back catalogue.  It fills me with rage that 2000’s superb Bloodflowers was shunned by the masses, and yet this tame selection of melodic disarray is often hailed as the ‘rebirth’ of The Cure and Robert Smith reuniting with his song-writing muse.  Although not quite as bad as 1980’s vomit inducing Seventeen Seconds, The Cure is a close second runner for title of ‘Worst Cure Album Ever’.

 

First impressions are calamitous.  The hookless Lost is a strong contender for worst ever Cure opening track.  Full of illogical guitar phasing and overbearing production techniques, impressive it is not.  However, credit must go where it is due, as Robert Smith sounds truly livid during his heated vocal performance.  Second track, Labyrinth, does little to improve matters.  It seems to be a tired retread of The Cure’s first steps into atmospheric sequencing, such as Wailing Wall from 1984’s experimental The Top.  Whatever happened to the quietly considered production of Disintegration?  Violent and messy, Labyrinth makes me wish The Cure would get lost in just such a maze.

 

But have faith, all is not lost!!  The album really begins with Before Three, which draws inspiration from some of the band’s most glorious pop gems.  Robert Smith’s voice sounds truly electric, “Whispering dreams so scared and high, we have to keep this night a-li-i-i-i-iveeee! Yeaaaah!”  Have no fear if you are an ageing fan of The Cure, as Robert Smith has enough childlike vivacity for the whole world.

 

The album’s first single, The End of the World, isn’t all that bad.  My main complaint is that it sounds too ordinary for my beautiful Cure to be performing.  Having said this, the chorus is spirited and full of life, striking a fine equilibrium between The Cure’s lighter and darker sides.  Second single, Alt.end, is much more up my street.  Making for classic Cure, Alt.end sees Smith going for the unbeatable formula of combining downbeat lyrics with an exhilarating and uplifting rhythm section.  “I really should care about your love or your hate for me… yeah, I should care but I don’t,” bewails Smith, over some of the most gorgeous arpeggio the band ever raised.  The fine stuff just keeps coming, as (I Don’t Know What’s Going) On is taking up the position of finest pop treasure on the record.  Smith sounds truly mesmerised by his love interest, as the triumphant keyboards serve as a fine vehicle for his lusty pleas.

 

Unfortunately, the record is unable to continue this momentum and comes a cropper with penultimate track, The Promise.  An absolute travesty, it ruins the great tradition of the ‘overblown Cure epic’, something which had previously been perfected on 1989’s Disintegration and revived for 2000’s Bloodflowers.  In the past these epics had succeeded as they had gradual musical progression and fluid motion from one phase to another, but here the arrangement is an absolute joke.  This is simply not good enough, Robert Smith.  The good news is that the record closes with one of the finest recordings the band ever wrote.  Going Nowhere sees Smith at his dismayed best, as he reassures his lover and pleads for her to confide in him, “I’m going nowhere… So, tell me that you love me again.  So, tell me that you care.”  It’s funny just what you can achieve in three and a half minutes.  Far more ground is covered here than The Promise managed in over ten self-indulgent minutes.

 

Far from recommendable, yet not quite an outright disaster, The Cure is an album which is happy to sit tight in the middle-ground.  Neither daring nor challenging, it is simply the sound of Robert Smith playing it safe and The Cure going through the motions.  Please, not again Robert.

 
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4:13 Dream (2008)
 
 
8/10
 
Producer: Robert Smith, Keith Uddin
  1. Underneath the Stars
  2. The Only One
  3. The Reasons Why
  4. Freakshow
  5. Sirensong
  6. The Real Snow White
  7. The Hungry Ghost
  8. Switch
  9. The Perfect Boy
  10. This. Here and now. With You
  11. Sleep When I’m Dead
  12. The Scream
  13. It’s Over
Expectations were high for this 2008 release by The Cure.  Since their album Wish in 1992, Robert Smith has been threatening to break up the band as every subsequent release gets panned by the critics.
 
This album gets its name as this is the thirteenth studio album by The Cure and it sees the band back to a four piece.  4:13 Dream was originally intended to be a double album, although this idea was scrapped during the latter stages of finalising the track listing.  Perhaps a wise decision considering it would draw comparisons with their classic 1987 double album, Kiss me, Kiss me, Kiss me.  Robert Smith confirmed that during the 4:13 Dream sessions a total of 33 songs had been recorded, so a future release of these currently unavailable songs is not only likely, but entirely expected.
 
In my opinion the most vital factor of this album’s success was Smith’s decision to get guitarist Porl Thompson back on board in 2005. The result is that this is the band’s most energetic recording since Wish.  Not necessarily their best recording, as that’d be Bloodflowers, but it is certainly their most lively.  Prior to the re-hiring of Thompson, keyboardist Roger O’ Donnell and guitarist Perry Bamonte had been fired from the band.  With regards to The Cure as a live band, the songs were given a fresh breath of life, as Porl stood in for the loss of a keyboard with his incendiary guitar work.  Having said all this, keyboards are still present on 4:13 Dream, albeit played by Smith and then overdubbed at a later date.
 
Let me start with the singles, two of which are Cure classics.  Each month leading up to the release of the album a single was released on the 13th, with the exception being the month of September.  The Only One is the band’s best pop moment since High from Wish.  Your typical Cure arpeggio is swiftly followed by Smith’s exceedingly youthful vocal performance, which induces a sense of disbelief that a man of almost 50 is singing in the same voice that he did on the band’s debut 30 years earlier.  Smith starts each verse with the line, “Oh I love what you do,” Furthering the popular opinion that he never really grew up and would much rather play host to his Peter Pan persona.  Freakshow seems to be harking back to the Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me days and is a fine summation of that albums greatest moments.  It’s a psychedelic monster with some expertly crafted guitar work from Thompson, while Simon Gallup plays some of his funkiest bass since Hot Hot Hot!!!.  Clocking in at 2 minutes 30 seconds it makes for the perfect single.
 
Sleep When I’m Dead had originally been written for the band’s 1985 album, The Head on The Door, but hasn’t made an appearance up until now.  Why it decided to rear it’s ugly head on what is to many people a comeback album, is beyond me.  There isn’t actually anything wrong with the way the song is designed, but the production is awful and really brings it down a notch or two.  The instruments have been made to sound really compressed, which is most unfortunate.  If the song had been given a little room to breath then we might have been looking at a more successful resurrection of this old demo.  Similarly, The Perfect Boy is a poor choice of single and a meagre addition to the album.  Again, the production is dull and somewhat lacking in attention grabbing sequences.
 
I have a real soft spot for The Real Snow White and find it an exceptional moment on the LP.  The song starts out most ominous thanks to Gallup’s pounding bass and Smith’s sinister spoken intro, but during the bridge to the chorus the music suddenly turns all summery and becomes one of the loveliest pieces in the whole history of The Cure.  I recommend This. Here and Now. With You for the very same reasons I suggested that you should give The Real Snow White a listen.  It’s essentially built the same way, plays by the same rules and sounds just as enticing to the listener.  It’s true when people say that The Cure have been using the same template with their songs for years, but if it isn’t broke don’t fix it.
 
Surprisingly The Hungry Ghost and The Reasons Why hark back to the band’s debut, Three Imaginary Boys.  These songs are somewhat more guitar driven, with less importance given to the intricacies of the instrumental layers.  Instead, your attention is drawn toward the lyrics.  They are both fine additions to the album if a little unspectacular.  This is the sound of The Cure on auto-pilot, but it still sounds good.
 
The Scream and It’s Over make an enthusiastic end to the album.  The band plays with real passion and zeal during this closing couplet of songs, particularly on the latter, where the band sounds as if it has the rhythm section of the entire Music Hall of Fame; Smith’s slide guitar tearing the intro in half.  I challenge you to find a band which is 30 years into its recording career and can still create as many lyrical hooks and sound as fresh and spritely as Smith and Co do here.  Whilst it is most apparent that the band is no longer able to surprise us the way it once did, it is only fair to conclude that the magic is still there.
 

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