The Cure: The Dark Side of Artrock

To coincide with recent comprehensive repackaged reissues of their later 80s material, it behove us to examine The Cure’s career from debut to 1987. For a band forever associated with the movement known as Goth, lipstick and silly hair, it was an instructive reminder of their contribution to the roots of Artrock – from their post-punk beginnings to their US platinum discs of the second part of their lengthy career.



THREE IMAGINARY BOYS
(1979)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

We open with the traditional ‘throw them in the studio and get them to record all their stuff live’ approach which has resulted in many stunning debut albums over the years (note for budding musos – read your contracts and only give ‘em what it says in Clause 3). ‘Three Imaginary Boys’ is a surprising successful ramshackle mishmash of live almost-demos recorded on the fly (when The Jam were off duty). Despite being presented in its unauthorised sleeve (put together by the label who wanted them to be as anonymous as three household implements) and featuring songs the band had not approved for inclusion (including a stunning cover of Hendrix’ ‘Foxy Lady’) the record stands the test of time. A combination of thin dry pop á la Wire, Joy Divisions echo-laden atmo and Buzzcocks neat insights, this was Artpop with a sense of momentum and hints of more impressionistic moody moments to come. Key tracks include debut sulkmeister single ‘10:15 On A Saturday Night’, the cataclysmic personal grief caused by inconsequential events of ‘Fire In Cairo’ and astonishing ‘So What’ where prime mover Robert Smith intones the words on a bag of icing sugar to emotive effect, all indicating an ability to combine alternately laconic and desperate vocals with simple melodic repetitive riffs and the sublime and the ridiculous (and the sometimes appallingly inept) to come up with something – well – worth it and different.



SEVENTEEN SECONDS
(1980)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

Within a year the group had recorded ‘Seventeen Seconds’. The previous album had hinted at the atmospheric direction the band would take, with cuts like ‘Subway Song’, and this album abounds with moody moments and undeveloped songs masquerading unsuccessfully as completed instrumentals (note to musos #2 - song without vocals does not automatically become instrumental). Skip these, however, and you have a significantly shorter and equally more fulfilling album, particularly on side two where kick-ass (ok – this is The Cure – let’s call it an affectionate punch) single ‘A Forest’ picks up the train-track rhythm they used in between-album diatribe against fashion victims ‘Jumping Somone Else’s Train’ (check extras CD for this) and takes it to the next level. There was a stunner of a 12” versh around at the time worth investigating. The title track is a more reflective version of practically the same song (but in the same way as Scarborough Fair is the same song as the Elfen Knight – i.e. they’re related and have the same roots). Smith’s much copied whinging it’s-not-fair vocals in urgent opener-proper flamenco number ‘Play For Today’ act as an instrument as much as a medium for a message. The record firmly placed the group at the apex of a triangle shared with Joy Division and Siouxsie and The Banshees. While the album is still the sound of a band finding its feet it’s also worth investigating for its guitar/piano interplay and use of exhalation as percussive effects.



FAITH
(1981)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

Next up, ‘Faith’. Another step towards the dark side of life. If Smith’s aim with ‘Faith’, inspired by that urgent need we all have at some time in our lives to make sense of the world, was to be ‘funereal but passionate’, it’s on the button. Death, separation, loneliness, alienation are all there from despondent opener, ‘The Holy Hour’ onwards. Its flanged bass and tolling church bells tying it in loosely with fellow darksters Banshees. The slightly atonal guitar introduces Smith’s trademark desolate whine and we’re off down a helter skelter of dreams, darkness and doom. ‘Primary’ fair rocks the joint, with the return of the recurring traintrack shuffle. Sonically the album is heads and shoulders above previous work – their relationship with three-time engineer/producer Mike Hedges now at its peak. The band were dysfunctional, took too many drugs and overspent in the studio. Themes of children/innocence give ‘Faith’ significance not reached by the previous albums and without the rubbish instrumentals or silly demos-turned album tracks of yore ‘Faith’ is a proper album. If distant self-absorbtion is your thing you know what to do. And that doesn’t mean you can play it on shuffle – it breaks the spell you know.



PORNOGRAPHY
(1982)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

With ‘Pornography’ however, moods reached rock bottom. The booze and drugs were at an all time high, and the guiding hand of Mike Hedges was not there to straighten the wheel. All hell was let loose in the studio and the madness was caught by the recording. Like Smith’s version of Public Image’s ‘Flowers of Romance’ the album is primitive drums (no cymbals), backmasked guitars, maxiverb vocals, and deep doom lyrics. If you like the sound of a band in total dysfunction then this is the eight-song album for you. Opening with ‘One Hundred Years’ (‘it doesn’t matter if we all die’), the cutup lyrics indicate we’re in for a dark ride to the heart of darkness. ‘Hanging Garden’ is a strange dance swathed in velvet and ‘Siamese Twins’ is a love song to the need to end it all. Side two goes even lower, ‘Cold’ opening with the melody on upright bowed bass, passing it over to the deepest keyboards available, it fair makes you shiver. The title track is an obvious cry for help, sampled film dialogue illustrating the madness, driven over by those unceasing drums and malevolent keyboards, the vocals eventually coming in desperation. “It’s too late,” they wail, alongside scribbled samples and that incessant rhythm section. This is the best track on the album, if it’s madness and desperation you’re after. Obviously a little unhappy with their lot, this is the real focus when the group consolidated their move away from post-punk, now a million miles away, and became figureheads for a million back-combed, belipsticked suburban difficult teenagers. Black nail vanish sales rocketed. The primitivism launched a thousand careers and the last significant rock cult, Goth, was unveiled. Influence aside, the album has great value in the pantheon of Artrock for its absorbing self-indulgence and total self-belief. These are great aspects to the personality of this album, along with the fact that once more Smith had not put any annoying demos or time-wasting instrumentals on as filler. Eight songs, eight paths to his particular hell. And surprisingly, it doesn’t really date. Rockin’ and totally theatrical.



THE GLOVE
(1983)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

‘Blue Sunshine’ by alter-ego side-project The Glove is easily the most unsuccessful recording projects of either of its protagonists (Robert Smith and Banshee buddy Steve Severin). Fronted, for contractual reasons (note to musos #3 – don’t do anything ‘for contractual reasons’ if it means veering from your creative path) by a singer (who couldn’t) and put together by the two aforementioned spaceheads while tripping on mushroom tea, the great ‘lost’ album ‘Blue Sunshine’ should’ve stayed lost. The less said about this the better. Anything favourable you read about it is a lie.



THE TOP
(1984)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

This poor show was swiftly followed up by lackadaisical Duran Duran tribute album, ‘The Top’, whose redeeming features were the madness of ‘Give Me It’ and the hit single ‘The Caterpillar’ (with those strange wandering vocals) and whose most annoying instrument has got to be the horrendous recurrent panpipes. This album is largely a waste of time. The 80s influences are far too strong and new producer Dave Allen wears his hair too bouffant and his shoulder pads too wide (if you know what I mean). Daamn those pixie boots.



THE HEAD ON THE DOOR
(1985)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

‘The Head On The Door’ has a much better title. However, it is purely proof that competing with U2, New Order and the Thompson Twins led to the album being a mixture of cascading guitars and the sound of money being pumped up Smith’s arse. Great pop song in ‘Close To Me’ though.



KISS ME KISS ME KISS ME
(1987)
Polydor/Fiction reissues

Finally for the purposes of this piece we confront 1987s ‘Kiss Me Kiss Me’ with fear and trepidation. And it’s amazing the difference a few singing lessons make. Smith gets behind this album and despite the sound of cavernous 1987 drums we get squalling guitar jams and classic pop songs both (‘Just Like Heaven’ – check out the Dinosaur Jr versh, one of the few grunge numbers to make it onto the Artrocker radar). Now I know for sure the Rapture’s fave Cure album anyway.So to recap.
Essential ‘live’ debut ‘Three Imaginary Boys’ - worth buying.
Dark as the inside of a rotting squid and nothing much to do with photos of prostitutes ‘Pornography’ - also worth a punt.
The rest? Well, maybe you could survive on a hits comp if you like the pop side. Get the rest in yer local library or buy them in this order:
‘Faith’, ‘Kiss Me Kiss Me’, ‘Seventeen Seconds’ (don’t bother with the rest).
Phew. I’m off out to get some black nail varnish.