Read- Let’s go to bed – Under the covers with The Cure.


This week, for those sickening for a long awaited post-gothic pop performance from Robert Smith and his un-merry men, The Cure return to our shores to deliver a sentimental skip around the padded cells at Vector Arena on Thursday evening. Strangers on our beaches since their circus-like concert experience under the big top at Mt Smart way back in the nineties, I can’t wait to be fascinated and frolic amongst 37 years’ worth of heavenly pop hits.

My ticket purchase and a lovingly labelled vinyl collection is my way of paying homage to my teenage obsession, but many, far more talented souls than myself, have decided to revisit the band’s extensive catalogue, uncovering their own brand of gothic medicine.  

Now taking on an idol’s work is sometimes an extremely brave endeavour and one would hope that these kind gestures of fandom would serve to add to the merits and memories of a particular tune, rather than permanently stain any artistic archives. I have decided to delve deep into the timeless tomb of days gone by and those delicate days in between, to unravel the way we listened and recall pictures of them from our 80’s scrapbook.

Starting with my personal favourite, ‘Just like Heaven’, checked out by alt-rock gurus Dinosaur Jr  way back in 1989, unveiling their broody trip to church, via a compilation of sorts ‘Fossils’.  Closing in on the Seattle grunge scene that I lovingly worshipped from NZ, the boogie down- beat estates of Bristol bore witness to the juxtaposition of vaudeville beat-smith Tricky, Picked from the same wild bunch as Neneh Cheery and Massive Attack, Tricky turned the milk sour with his creepy but wonderfully wicked stroke on the ‘Love Cats’.
From the Brit stadium songstress Adele, there has been her personally stylised belted ballad ‘Love Song’, Billy Corgan made a poppy pulp from his smashed stewed and messy ‘A Night Like This’, whilst the deafening Deftones dutifully destroyed the epic anthem ‘If Only Tonight we could Sleep’.

Opinions are open and divided as to whether tackling tunes of such sentimental stature is warranted, with many a recovering goth unfriended from pale Facebook or snubbed at the black coat reunion.
My thoughts are well placed within the artistic canvas of freedom of expression and letting core values and threads be re-sewn and remixed to new and exciting effect. If you don’t like hearing your memories and moments revived, stay hooked in the past where the mist only rises only in the forgotten forest, but leave your tissues at home, because boys don’t cry!            

My regular grabs from Robert Smith’s original medicine cabinet, include the ethereal Seventeen Seconds, the fabulously low-end classic Faith and the more than decent Disintegration.  

Dave Tucker

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