Seasons come and seasons go, but The Cure remain – indefatigably – The Cure. Live, the band are a stunning force, with Robert Smith’s voice and emotional heft belying his years. It helps, too, that the group are able to draw on one of British music’s most unique catalogues, songwriting that plumbs the depths of misery and self-doubt only to emerge renewed in the beatific light of love, and human connection.
New album ‘Songs Of A Lost World’ is their first in 16 years, and – in truth – it would be worth a wait even double that length. Formidable and ambitious, it shames peers half their age in its ambition and refusal to cowtow to norms – once more, The Cure can only ever be The Cure.
Celebrating their return, CLASH writers got together to focus on their favourite tracks – so, here are The Cure’s 15 best songs.
—
‘La Ment’
Much like fellow Brit icons The Smiths, some of The Cure’s greatest treasures can be found in their b-sides. Written when the band was all but ended following the disastrous tour for 82’s ‘Pornography,’ ‘Lament’ was hastily recorded solo by Robert Smith – with assistance from some flutes and Siouxsie & The Banshees’ Steven Severin. Created for Flexipop Magazine’s cover mounted flexi-disc, the track is a lo-fi psychedelic jumble but nevertheless contains an undeniable haunting quality.
The next year saw The Cure enter their pop phase, Smith reworking the song as a 12” b-side for their synth-led hit ‘The Walk.’ Far more polished and containing real lyrics over drugged-out gargles, the newly named ‘La Ment’ stands as the perfect middle-ground between the bleak tones of their post-punk albums and the eccentric madness of the forthcoming ‘The Top.’ Later appearing on the compilation ‘Japanese Whispers,’ the song is beloved by fans and is Smith’s personal favourite from the period. (Sam Walker-Smart)
—
‘Burn’
Recorded during another strange period for the band, ‘Burn’ was written as the title track for the cult goth flick ‘The Crow.’ Based on James O’Barr’s acclaimed graphic novel of the same name, the film’s source material featured lyrics from both The Cure and Joy Division, adding to its brooding tone. Rather than merely granting rights to ‘The Hanging Garden,’ as featured in the story, Smith offered to pen something fresh. Recorded in a marathon two-day session by just the frontman and outgoing drummer Boris Williams, ‘Burn’ sees the group return to the intensity and madness of their 82-84 era.
Led by Williams’ tribal drums and with Smith adding spooky flute caws all over proceedings, it’s a propulsive, gloomy rocker. An instant classic with fans; audiences would have to wait 19 years until the band performed it live. Luckily, it’s something of a staple now. (Sam Walker-Smart)
—
‘Love Song’
Could this be the most romantic song ever? My first ever “love” song with my first ever love was ‘Lovesong’—and since then, I’ve stopped soundtracking my relationships, as nothing can come close to this gorgeous track. Haunting in its desire, yet neither obsessive nor sinister, the song starkly captures the passion and thrill of love—no goopy metaphors or cheesy analogies required. “Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again,” sings Smith over humming synths and a brooding bassline. This dark, exquisite single is from the band’s 1989 masterpiece of an album, ‘Disintegration’. (Charis McGowan)
—
‘Catch’
Whimsical violins and tender guitar lines, ‘Catch’ encapsulates The Cure’s dream-tinged, nostalgic world. From their 1987 album ‘Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me’, the bittersweet track is wrapped in a delicate longing. Its gentle, lilting melody paints a scene of wistful romance as Smith sings “And I used to sometimes try to catch her / But never even caught her name,” revealing a memory frayed with regret and unfulfilled desire. ‘Catch’ has a playful quality full of warmth and softness as the band evoke that all too familiar ache of love we often find ourselves experiencing – close but out of reach. (Sahar Ghadirian)
—
‘Inbetween Days’
From The Cure’s 1985 record ‘The Head on the Door’, ‘In Between Days’ captures the buoyant urgency of love and loss with its opening pulsing guitar riff and infectious drumbeat. The Cure do what they do best, carrying a bright, almost frenetic energy that belies its bittersweet core as Robert Smith reflets “Yesterday I got so old, I felt like I could die.” Forever a restless tension, caught between those moments of longing and regret, the vibrancy draws us into a whirlwind of the past through yearning. ‘In Between Days’ stands as a Cure classic, blending melancholy with the adrenaline-induced thrill of pushing forward. (Sahar Ghadirian)
—
‘Boys Don’t Cry’
The title track from The Cure’s 1980 album, ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ is a short snappy self-deprecating love song with an opening guitar riff forever lodged in the brain of anyone who lived through that era. The album itself was actually a compilation of tracks, including a number from their debut album ‘Three Imaginary Boys’ (1979). The lyrics honestly expose the mistakes made in a relationship, and considers the possible ways of retrieving a love lost, even if they are not acted upon. Particularly with hindsight there is something genuinely heart-breaking about “Hiding the tears in my eyes, ’cause boys don’t cry”. Hiding true feelings has dire consequences, and yet the track is punchy and upbeat, in contrast with the emotion it is conveying. (Julia Mason)
—
’10.15 On A Saturday Night’
A track that is both haunting and mesmeric. The dripping tap encapsulated in crisp percussion is hypnotic, and with the accompanying bassline the imagery of opening line “10:15 on a Saturday night” is immediately created in one’s minds-eye. The sentiment is one of loneliness, “waiting for the telephone to ring”. The instrumentation dominates here with minimal lyrics throughout. However the power of sonics is evidenced with the electric guitar given its moment to flourish, urgent and anxiety fuelled, before the return to the dripping tap. The tension is palpable and listen carefully for a slight catch of breath. This is storytelling genius, with very few lyrics. (Julia Mason)
—
‘Charlotte Sometimes’
‘Charlotte Sometimes’ may not have left as large an imprint on the charts as other Cure singles but its gothic tone and lyrics have left an enduring impact on the fanbase. It is based on the book by Penelope Farmer, with direct references in the lyrics, a natural fit for Robert Smith’s lyricism. There is a haunting quality to the track and it feels like a bridge to some of the darker themes explored in the likes of ‘Pornography’ and ‘Disintegration’. There is plenty of depth to ‘Charlotte Sometimes’ and it shows The Cure’s evolution in the early 80s as a precursor of what was to come. (Christopher Connor)
—
‘Close To Me’
‘The Head On The Door’ is one of The Cure’s most accessible albums showcasing a poppier sound that incorporated a range of other styles. ‘Close To Me’ is one of their most distinctive tracks driven by keyboards and bass with a prominent brass section that leans into jazz. Certainly not a direction fans would have expected Robert Smith and co to go in at the time but one they pulled off without any difficulty. It remains an enduring track having charted at 24 in the charts on release. It is a soothing track that really showcases how much more there is to The Cure than meets the eye. (Christopher Connor)
—
—
‘Fascination Street’
As the pinnacle of goth rock, The Cure’s 1989 masterpiece ‘Disintegration’ offers an embarrassment of riches for diehard fans and casual listeners alike. Kicking off the second half of the record is ‘Fascination Street’, a rollercoaster five-minute crash course in everything that makes The Cure so special. A luxuriously crafted introduction comprising a throbbing, propulsive bass line, snapping snares, and the haunting shriek of layered electric guitars gives way (after more than two minutes) to Robert Smith’s pristine vocals. With lyrics inspired by the band’s mid-80s adventures in New Orleans, the track blossoms into one of their most colourful and outright pretty compositions. The funkiest damn ghost story ever told. (Mike Watkins)
—
‘Why Can’t I Be You’
‘Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me’, The Cure’s 1987 double album comprised of entirely new material, is about as close to a ‘Greatest Hits’ compilation as any studio album ever could be, not because of the litany of hits that it gave birth to – none of its four singles cracked the Top 20 in the UK – but because of how varied it is. Across the album’s 75 minutes, every variation of the band’s many sounds has some representation, with lead single ‘Why Can’t I Be You?’ being about as funky and dance-orientated as the band has ever been. Atop music this extroverted, Smith’s vocal offers an introverted tension that the best part songs all share, and the result is a song that gets stuck in your head for days on end. (Mike Watkins)
—
‘Just Like Heaven’
Pop music most definitely peaked when The Cure released ‘Just Like Heaven’ in 1987. Of course, it’s not just their best song but one the best songs ever written. A three-and-a-half-minute bop of joyful melancholia and nostalgic yearning. Pop perfection.
Because not a second feels wasted. A build-up of warm synths, purposeful rhythm and a jubilant riff sets the scene for Robert Smith’s tale of romantic perfection with his wife.
And for me, the song now holds extra significance – a piano version was played during my wedding last month. Just married and surrounded by my nearest and dearest, hearing the gentle tones of The Cure was, in the words of Smith, “just like a dream”! (Matthew McLister)
—
‘Plainsong’
Robert Smith is no stranger to an epic opening track on album, but – until the release of ‘Alone’ – the art had been mastered on ‘Disintegration’. After a pensive start, the song erupts into a volcano of sparkling glitter which unequivocally outlines the intention. ‘Plainsong’ feels longer than it’s five-minute plus run time, such is the scale of grandiosity, with Smith vocally present for less than 60 seconds, muttering and echoing through spatial void as the song unravels. Yet the melancholy lyrics take second place to one of the most positive pieces of music in The Cure’s mighty catalogue. Divine. (Richard Bowes)
—
‘Pictures Of You’
The fourth and final single from The Cure’s seminal masterpiece ‘Disintegration’, ‘Pictures of You’, is a sweeping declaration of longing, heartbreak, and desire in melancholy through introspective lyrics and ballad-like goth-pop synths. The steady pulse of the bass, drums, and synths is ghostly and sparkling. At a staggering seven minutes, Robert Smith’s hauntingly soft vocals don’t come in until almost the two-minute mark, following a sustained instrumental build-up that makes the emotional impact feel even more earned. (Sabrina Soormally)
—
‘Alone’
The 16-year wait for a new album by The Cure is already being much-mythologised, but that headline – while true – doesn’t quite tell the full story. Live, the band never let the pace slip, and frequently included new material in their epic set lists. ‘Alone’ – the opening track on new album ‘Songs Of A Lost World’ – has been fine-tuned on the road, and it’s inherent confidence points to a band in full control of their artistry. Epic in the best possible way, it leans in to their legacy while refusing to be cowed by it, an outstanding feast of melody from a group whose only concern is the present. (Robin Murray)
—
