The Cure/ Disintegration: 21 Years On…

The Cure’s Disintegration album is re-released this week, 21 years after its original release, the band’s opus magnus and one of artrocks most renowned albums. With a 3-disc re-mastered box set released this month, Sam Walker-Smart looks back on how Robert Smith and his band of not so merry men conquered the world and the charts with an album originally deemed to be ‘commercial suicide’.

Like all iconic albums, 1989’s Disintegration has history, a few rock n roll anecdotes and, overall, a tangible air of grandeur. The Cure however, being the The Cure, means that the usual television thrown from hotel window drama is replaced with tales of wild-haired front men playing games of night tennis alone…while naked…on acid…sans ball.

Drastically moving on from the sparse and gloomy material that defined their early ‘no image’ career, The Cure found themselves an unlikely global act, thanks to a string of catchy and eclectic singles, the result of continuing musical experimentation throughout the 80s. With double album Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me cementing the change from former cult stars to full blown stadium fillers, Mad Bob and co undertook a sell out world tour, greeted every night by thousands of gothic look-a-likes screaming along to Just Like Heaven no matter what continent they found themselves in. Mr Smith, being a man unconcerned with the trappings of fame and celebrity culture, naturally and understandably freaked.


“It was never our intention to become as big as this”- Robert Smith

Annoyed and depressed by his new found global ‘pop-star’ status, the songwriter sought a way out, opting to return The Cure to more introspective and darker waters. “After ‘Kiss Me’ I wondered about the possibilities of the next step. I saw myself busy with promotional issues, doing stupid things such as going to Japan for ten days and giving stupid interviews. All of that won’t happen again. What came next would have to be different…” Conscious and panicked at the realization that rock’s masterpieces had been written before bands had reached their thirties, the then 29-year-old Robert retreated into an LSD fuelled depression (queue tennis) and began to write alone. Emerging in the summer of 1988 with a collection of home demos, Smith gathered his band mates at drummer Boris Thompson’s country home in Devon for feedback. Despite the vast change of direction, the others eagerly took to the new material and got to work, resulting in the creation of over thirty full band demos, recorded and ready to bring to the studio. Moving up country, things did not begin smoothly, when, after checking in barely an hour before, a fire broke out within the recording space; Robert’s hand-written lyrics trapped inside. No back up or second copies available, the band forged a human chain with music’s most unkempt haircut at the front, wet towel wrapped round face, desperately reaching for his leather satchel through the smoke. Disaster avoided, and after receiving “such a bollocking!” from the fireman, the band was finally free to start.

Feeling an unpleasant atmosphere would be beneficial to the creative process now that they had relocated to Outside Studios in the Thames Valley, Robert detached himself from the group and became monk-like in his concentration. Decorating the studio with an article on a local teenage suicide reportedly sound tracked by one of their own releases; Smith entered one of his self-described ‘non-talking modes’ largely ignoring his band members. Mood suitably abrasive and tense the alt-icons steadily began pulling together the twelve tracks that would become Disintegration.

Furthering the aggressive and pessimistic vibes in house, was the difficult firing of founding member, Lol Tolhurst. The original drummer, turned keyboardist in The Cure had been steadily declining over the past few years due to excessive drinking, acting as mere jester, butt of jokes and drinking companion. “He would only show up at dinner time and had become more of a whipping boy than a musician. At the end, we were only thinking of what jokes to play on him, rather than the music." When it became clear soon into the recording process that Tolhurst was contributing literally nothing to this, the group’s eighth album, best friend Smith, with added pressure from the other members, was forced to let him go. Despite the literal and emotional inferno surrounding them the recording process still proved rewarding, remaining members functioning well as a unit, laying down the main tracks while Smith and producer Dave Allen worried about overdubs and the piece’s overall ‘sound’. Songs down, and a further two weeks spent at RAK studios in London for mixing, created an album ready for consumption.



From opener, ‘Plainsong’ onwards, Disintegration proved a bold, engulfing and justifiably epic record standing at over seventy minutes in length. Layers of synth, bass and primal drumming sweep the listener into The Cure’s reverb filled world of dream and nightmare. Gone were the more danceable and psychedelic pop hits, replaced by long melodic intros and sparse use of guitar, leaving room for the music to wrap around Smith’s most honest and heart-felt lyrics to date. Understandably proud, and with his fellow members ecstatic with the results, Robert attended the playback for the record executives. When spotting no singles or easily achievable airplay, the powers that be declared the bands greatest moment ‘commercial suicide’, feeling the twelve tracks were too inaccessible to sell. Smith understanding the mentality and cult like devotion of a typical Cure fan a little better, refused to budge, believing in the albums potential and eventually insuring it was released un-tampered.



Going on to sell in excess of three million units and scoring top-ten hits with the likes of ‘Lullaby’ and ‘Lovesong’ The Cure could sit back and feel smug at how the pale kids in the corner had once again stormed the popular kids party. Smith’s gut instinct and refusal to compromise had; once again, lead the band to a previously unknown level of success; now finding themselves performing at the MTV awards ceremony as well as three sold out nights at Wembley Arena. Yet, with such success came more fame, the results of which saw Smith trading in his quirky poster boy of alternative music persona for full on demi-god of Goth. The Cure had become the voice for misunderstood and messy haired youths, undertaking the 75 show-long Prayer Tour just in order to now fully cover their fan base. While the shows were to be rated some of, if not the bands most powerful, such was the toll on every member, it was declared their ‘last ever tour’, opting to focus on studio albums alone in the future. “Don’t think that I’m a sissy. To be on tour is actually a lot of fun. But the way The Cure are, it’s always been too much fun for me. I just can’t get drunk every night of the week, the way we usually do, to not sleep three days a week. I’m too old and too tired.”

Converting legions of new fans on their own terms The Cure had pulled off an unlikely and, some would say, near impossible feat, becoming a stadium band for people who fucking hated U2. Disintegration in name and nature, the album that nearly destroyed them also insured the artrock oddballs place in musical history. “With Disintegration, I wanted to see if the Cure was still able to make a record which had a real substance and if we were able to express and share such deep feelings. The kind of things you feel the first time somebody kisses you violently on the mouth. It's this kind of intensity, when you're young, that you must never forget with age. Never…”




The Cure Disintegration Three Disc Re-mastered Box Set is released May 24th. 
For more information visit - www.thecuredisintegration.com