"SINKING" THE CURE (1985)

For October, the Mental Jukebox is dialing it way back to the eighties and going deep. Deep cuts have always been an important element of music listening to me because they’re often the songs that resonate with me most. Deep cuts are usually the ones that the true fans appreciate most. I like my singles and hits, but I love my deep cuts.

I count The Head On The Door among my top five favorite Cure albums. This was the record that brought me into the fold. True, it is known for being one of the more accessible recordings from their catalog. It’s poppier for sure. And often times, fans will recommend that new enthusiasts start with this album first, then branch out to the less accessible stuff. But the thing is, The Head On The Door tends to get written off as a one-dimensional pop fest. The final proof that this is preposterous is the last track, “Sinking”. It might be my favorite closer of all time, from any band.

That sinking feeling is captured so perfectly and profoundly on the track. In true Cure fashion, the instruments take on a life of their own, personifying human emotions so beautifully. The guitar harmonics and tragic synth interludes seem to drag each other down into the mire. Smith doesn’t sling a ton of lyrics around on this one. But every word counts. Every word has a nearly unbearable weight attached to it. Gallup’s bass line mopes around, pacing back and forth in its misery. “Sinking” might seem more at home on a record like Disintegration, but as the final track on The Head On The Door, it’s a reminder that The Cure, as always, is in touch with every emotion.

“IF ONLY I COULD REMEMBER ANYTHING AT ALL.”

"DISINTEGRATION" THE CURE (1989)

A great title track is par for the course when it comes to great albums. If the title track doesn’t cut it, what does that say about the album itself? This month, the Mental Jukebox will be playing some of my favorite title tracks – inspired by @NicolaB_73’s music Twitter challenge, #TopTitleTracks.

Disintegration might be my favorite album of all time. There’s not a single second of filler on it. While my order of favorite tracks may have shifted over the years, one song has always stayed #1: the title track. It’s not only the magnum opus of the album and my favorite song from the band, it’s the quintessential Cure track – both as a produced piece and as a frequent inclusion on Cure concert set lists.

The song opens with the sound of glass shattering, and then immediately hands the duties of keeping the mood alive over to Gallup, who delivers one of his more memorable bass lines. Guitars and keys are given their time to marinate. On “Disintegration”, they’re cascading along a never-ending downward spiral, becoming a microcosm of the entire album that keeps descending further and further into the abyss. Robert’s vocals finally enter the picture at the 1:34 mark. But in the live setting, it’s the critical piece. It’s the element that makes “Disintegration” feel truly immersive. On Disintegration’s title track, we are not passive participants. We are part of the story.

“Songs about happiness murmured in dreams
And we both of us knew how the end always is.”

"THE UPSTAIRS ROOM" THE CURE (1983)

This month, I’m jumping into the #APlaceInTheSong challenge from @JukeboxJohnny2. Great songs have that special ability to describe places in a way that makes us feel like we’re right there. Each day, I’ll pick a track that I think accomplishes that feat.

A significant departure from Pornography, the 12-inch release of “The Walk” seemed to have a pep in its step. It was like a 180 degree turn toward a poppier, catchier agenda. While “The Walk” was one of those early classic Cure singles that brought me into the fold, the b-side gem “The Upstairs Room” is actually my favorite track from the single release. Despite the departure of Simon Gallup, one of my favorite bass players of all time, the band found a way to move forward and do some interesting things musically.

“The Upstairs Room” has a few subtle, unexpected tendencies, starting with its abrupt beginning. It’s a song that seems to waste no time getting ramped up with Tolhurst’s dreamy, layered synth hooks that feel like a lullaby. Then Robert’s signature guitar riff enters the song like a night terror bout, waking us from our synth bubble. Gallup’s absence from the band is certainly felt on “The Upstairs Room” and its single counterpart “The Walk”. But Smith and Tolhurst deserve credit for staying the course after this tumultuous period in the band’s history.

“I LOVE IT ALL, THESE GAMES WE PLAY. I CLOSE MY EYES. YOU RUN AWAY.”

"THE BABY SCREAMS" THE CURE (1985)

I started Mental Jukebox nearly three years ago at the beginning of the pandemic. During this time, I’ve discovered new music, rediscovered old favorites and I’ve met passionate music fans around the world. And when things opened up, I kept on blogging. This month, the jukebox goes deeper. The term “deep cut” has multiple meanings. It can refer to lesser known album tracks from well-known artists. It can also refer to tracks from lesser known artists. This month, I’ll be featuring both types. #DeepCutsFeb

The Head On The Door had an ease and accessibility about it. It’s common to deem this trait as a weakness. But nothing could be further from the truth. It isn’t so much a mainstream album, and it certainly isn’t The Cure selling out. The album explores a number of different genres and influences, conjures up a dozen different emotions. It just happens to be danceable with moments of pop. Just maybe you’re dancing in a cemetery, not at prom. The unheralded track “The Baby Screams” is one of my favorite deep cuts from the band.

Here’s proof that the quintet works. It thrives. Smith, Tolhurst, Thompson, Gallup and Williams sound like they’re having a ball playing this. To this day, I still don’t know what the song is about, although it’s definitely not about colicky babies. Like many Cure songs, it’s not about what the song is telling you, it’s about how it makes you feel. When I play “The Baby Screams”, I wanna play air bass to those chunky bass hooks from Gallup. I wanna play air keys with those ironic flourishes from Tolhurst. I wanna get behind Boris’ kit and wail on the drums all afternoon and skip work. I wanna crush those guitar riffs side by side Porl. And I want to scream like a hyena with Robert. But the headphones will do just fine for now.

“HEAVEN, GIVE ME A SIGN. WAITING FOR THE SUN TO SHINE. PLEASURE FILLS UP MY DREAMS AND I LOVE IT, LIKE A BABY SCREAMS.”

"SINKING" THE CURE (1985)

You can get off to a fast start. You can sustain your opener with the main course, not filler. But can you end on a high note? Sometimes I wonder if recording a strong closer is the most difficult thing to pull off when it comes to album rock. When it comes to the cream of the crop in music, I can think of more strong openers than strong closers. Nonetheless, I still have my favorites which I’ll be featuring on Mental Jukebox all month.

I count The Head On The Door among my top five favorite Cure albums. This was the record that brought me into the fold. True, it is known for being one of the more accessible recordings from their catalog. It’s poppier for sure. And often times, fans will recommend that new enthusiasts start with this album first, then branch out to the less accessible stuff. But the thing is, The Head On The Door tends to get written off as a one-dimensional pop fest. The final proof that this is preposterous is the last track, “Sinking”. It might be my favorite closer of all time, from any band.

That sinking feeling is captured so perfectly and profoundly on the track. In true Cure fashion, the instruments take on a life of their own, personifying human emotions so beautifully. The guitar harmonics and tragic synth interludes seem to drag each other down into the mire. Smith doesn’t sling a ton of lyrics around on this one. But every word counts. Every word has a nearly unbearable weight attached to it. Gallup’s bass line mopes around, pacing back and forth in its misery. “Sinking” might seem more at home on a record like Disintegration, but as the final track on The Head On The Door, it’s a reminder that The Cure, as always, is in touch with every emotion.

“I CROUCH IN FEAR AND WAIT. I'LL NEVER FEEL AGAIN... IF ONLY I COULD REMEMBER ANYTHING AT ALL.”

"CLOSE TO ME (CLOSEST MIX)" THE CURE (1990)

Electronic albums play a huge role in my fascination with music. For me, synthesizers and drum machines aren’t better or worse than live drums and guitars. They’re just different. They make music much more imaginative for me. I think Nick Rhodes’ synth parts on those early Duran Duran albums were some of my first loves. Shimmery one moment, jarring the next. Rhodes’ keyboard flourishes changed the complexion of every song. This month, I’m featuring my Top 15 electronic albums along with one featured track. #15ElectronicLPs

Album: Mixed Up (1990)

Hardly ever mentioned among the great Cure albums, Mixed Up was an oddity. It rode off the sweeping momentum of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me and Disintegration, but never came close in terms of its significance in the greater Cure canon. For many fans, it was an album that we were preoccupied with for a short period of time and then we forgot about it just like that. The Cure, by nature, is far from an electronic band. Their emphasis on multiple guitars and live drums affirms this. But on Mixed Up, they gave their previous un-electronic staples an electronic feel. One of the best from this remix collection is “Close To Me (Closest Mix)”.

If you needed to validate the electronic prowess of this particular remix, all you need to do is name-check. The Cure enlisted the help of Paul Oakenfold on this Head On The Door classic. This is a delightful remake of an already delightful song. It proves that you don’t need to completely deconstruct a song to get a strong remix result. This one focused on replacing the sugary drum beat with a electronic, house-infused percussion. The unforgettable bass line is sharpened and turned up to help solidify the house vibes. “Close To Me (Closest Mix): and the entire Mixed Up album bring back fond memories of musical discovery and imagination during my high school years.

“I never thought that this day would end. I never thought that tonight could ever be This close to me.”

"THE KISS" THE CURE (1987)

Great album openers get the listeners to keep on listening. They can do this in any number of ways. Some openers set the tone by easing us in. Others jump right in and blow our minds from the very beginning. A great album opener isn’t an easy thing to create. More than a great song, it’s all about the sequence. Track 1 has to be the perfect starter. This month, I’m highlighting my favorites. #AlbumOpeningSongs

The double album Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me captured the full spectrum of human emotions. It also showcased the band’s versatile instrumentation, especially on guitar. The rich, vast explorations on the album make it a great one to re-explore. Many people point to The Head On The Door as the start of The Cure’s imperial era, and Disintegration is universally recognized as the band’s masterpiece. Which sorta makes Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me a slightly underrated album, despite housing some of the band’s most well-known singles. One of my favorite tracks is the scorching, perilous opener “The Kiss”.

“The Kiss” is like the evil cousin of New Order’s “The Perfect Kiss”. It’s not a pretty affair. This Track One has four stages in a sprawling magnum opus. First, the lover is beckoned over. In the second stage, the lover becomes the subject of utter infatuation. Quickly, things make a turn for the worse. In the third stage, the lover is now suddenly the subject of disdain. And by the fourth and final stage, there’s nothing left except the protagonist’s wish for the lover to leave this world. In six minutes, it goes from “the” kiss to the kiss of death, flanked by a loud, wailing guitar that’s nearly possessed and Boris’ emphatic pounding on the drums that deliver the final nails in the coffin. Just brilliant in every regard.

“I never wanted this.”

"FROM THE EDGE OF THE DEEP GREEN SEA" THE CURE (1992)

I generally gravitate to the music first before the lyrics. But as a writer, I still marvel at well-spun verses and choruses. This month, I’m joining the music Twitter community in #31DaySongLyricChallenge

Day 17

I could’ve picked from dozens and dozens of different Cure songs to highlight Robert Smith’s unique ability to capture a spectrum of emotions in his lyrics like no one else. Far more complex than just doom & gloom on one end and euphoria on another, Smith understands that human emotions are much more complex and nuanced than that as the closing lines in “From The Edge of the Deep Green Sea” indicate in its feedback-soaked abyss.

“It's always the same. Wake up in the rain. Head in pain. Hung in shame. A different name. Same old game. Love in vain. And miles and miles and miles and miles and miles and miles away from home again.”

"FASCINATION STREET" THE CURE (1989)

One of the most powerful things about music is that it is the soundtrack of our lives. Fellow music fanatic Sharon Hepworth started a music challenge on Twitter for the month of July. Each day, fans around the world will select a song from their life and describe what it means to us. These are my songs. #SoundtrackToYourLife

Day 5

If I had to pick just one band to listen to for the rest of my life, The Cure would be it. They are a band that embodies every human emotion in their music. I first discovered them in high school. My friend’s older sister was listening to all the cool music and exposed me to “The Love Cats”, “Why Can’t I Be You?”, “Let’s Go To Bed”, “Boys Don’t Cry”, and countless more classics. But, for me, the Disintegration album will always be the most endearing discovery for me. It was the first album that I heard at the actual time of its release. Even before I got my own copy, select tracks were playing on Long Island’s WDRE, a radio station that has shaped my life’s soundtrack in a big way. One of those great WDRE tracks was “Fascination Street”.

This was one of the first songs I heard from Disintegration, and I’ve loved it from the beginning. It has held up remarkably well over time. This one’s a true banger. Sonically The Cure are in full force here, there’s little nuance, and there’s plenty of force. The instrumental layering that The Cure is so good at here isn’t subtle. On “Fascination Street”, the guitars shimmer and swirl – and erupt in intervals. The keys play a more atmospheric and complementary role on the track – doing just enough and highlighted by those unforgettable arpeggios. The driving force of “Fascination Street”, of course, is the rhythm. Boris’ drumbeats are nearly stumbling over one another while Simon’s bass line crawls insistently inside your head and stays put. Robert doesn’t start singing until the 2:22 mark, and rightfully so. He nails the vocals, but the instruments are the elements that create the thrilling mood of a reckless, liberating night in New Orleans.

“So just pull on your face. Just pull on your feet. And let's hit opening time down on Fascination Street.”

"DISINTEGRATION" THE CURE (1989)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Seventeen Seconds (1980) - Track 10

Ranking: 1

I previously wrote on Mental Jukebox how the task of picking one’s favorite songs from Disintegration seems like an impossible task. The album is simply too deep. There’s not a single second of filler on it. There are so many great tracks that have stayed with me all these years. If I were to state my Top 30 again next month, I may have a different order of songs – excluding some, and adding a few ones. But one song always stay the same. The title track stands above the rest. It’s not only the magnum opus of the album and my favorite song from the band, it’s the quintessential Cure track – both as a produced piece and as a frequent inclusion on Cure concert set lists.

The song opens with the sound of glass shattering, and then immediately hands the duties of keeping the mood alive over to Gallup, who delivers one of his more memorable bass lines. Guitars and keys are given their time to marinate. On “Disintegration”, they’re cascading along a never-ending downward spiral, becoming a microcosm of the entire album that keeps descending further and further into the abyss. Robert’s vocals finally enter the picture at the 1:34 mark. But in the live setting, it’s the critical piece. It’s the element that makes “Disintegration” feel truly immersive. On Disintegration’s title track, we are not passive participants. We are part of the story.

"SINKING" THE CURE (1985)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: The Head On The Door (1985) - Track 10

Ranking: 2

This pick might come as a bit of a surprise this high up. It’s a cherished track by devoted fans, but it’s not the obvious one to go with from The Head On The Door. The album is known for being one of the more accessible recordings from their catalog. It’s poppier for sure. And often times, fans will recommend that new enthusiasts start with this album first, then branch out to the less accessible stuff. The thing that tends to get overlooked though is that The Head On The Door is far from a one-dimensional pop fest. My favorite song from the record, “Sinking”, is a case in point.

That sinking feeling is captured so perfectly and profoundly on the track. In true Cure fashion, the instruments take on a life of their own, personifying human emotions so beautifully. The guitar harmonics and tragic synth interludes seem to drag each other down into the mire. Smith doesn’t sling a ton of lyrics around on this one. But every word counts. Every word has a nearly unbearable weight attached to it. Gallup’s bass line mopes around, pacing back and forth in its misery. “Sinking” might seem more at home on a record like Disintegration, but as the final track on The Head On The Door, it’s a reminder that The Cure, as always, is in touch with every emotion.

“I crouch in fear and wait. I'll never feel again... If only I could remember anything at all.”

"FROM THE EDGE OF THE DEEP GREEN SEA" THE CURE (1992)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Wish (1992) - Track 4

Ranking: 3

The Wish album cover reminds me of the whimsical world of renowned artist Joan Miro. The art didn’t always make you feel happy, but it always made you feel something. Every song on the album accomplished this feat — from ecstasy in “Wendy Time” and “Doing the Unstuck” to euphoria in “High” and “Friday I’m in Love” to sorrow in “A Letter to Elise” and “To Wish Impossible Things”. But the one song that creates in me the greatest emotional response from the album is “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea”.

A treacherous swamp of feedback and distortion surfaces in the opening of the song, only to pull us in deeper and deeper into the sea. Guitar feedback felt more pronounced on this track and on Wish, in general, compared to all the great Cure albums that preceded it. But “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea” benefited from an iconic wailing guitar riff that seemed to tug at a dozen different emotions. It feels like that iconic guitar riff is crying and wailing like a human being. It’s the defining element of the song – one which I got to hear live as the band added it to their setlist on the second night at MSG on their 2016 North American tour. Somehow it pulls me in deeper and deeper every time I hear it.

“Looking for something forever gone. But something we will always want.”

"PRIMARY" THE CURE (1981)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Faith (1981) - Track 2

Ranking: 4

Faith is one of my least favorite Cure albums. While many of their records have an incredible cohesiveness and consistency matched with exceptional sequencing, Faith’s vulnerability is that it succumbed to including a few filler tracks. When I listen to Pornography or Disintegration, I don’t want it to end. But in the case of Faith, I skip straight to Track 2, and often play it endlessly on repeat. Track 2 captures the essence of The Cure. It showcases their refusal to conform to anything normal. There’s nothing else like it. In fact, “Primary” is even unique as far as Cure standards go.

The bass will forever be my favorite instrument. For me, its rhythmic sounds are always in the foreground, not the background. That’s why the rare song “Primary” by The Cure is such a treat. It doesn’t have a single element of electric or acoustic guitar. Instead, it boasts two bass guitars, played by Simon Gallup, of course, as well as Robert Smith. Dueling, grating bass guitars playing on separate octaves and achieving The Cure’s ambitious post-punk agenda.

“The very first time I saw your face I thought of a song and quickly changed the tune.”

"PUSH" THE CURE (1985)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: The Head On The Door (1985) - Track 5

Ranking: 5

The Head on the Door was the first album from The Cure that I loved from beginning to end. Each song seemed to flow perfectly into each other. They worked together brilliantly as a cohesive collection of songs, and the band seemed to strike the perfect sequence of tracks. “Push” was the mid-tempo connective tissue between the slow meanderings of “Six Different Ways” and the manic pacing of “The Baby Screams”. It’s also one of my favorite Cure songs of all time.

“Push” was written to thrive in live performances. While the band is well-known for launching into long musical preludes prior to the first verse of many of their songs, “Push” literally pushed the band’s own limits, not introducing Robert Smiths’ vocals until after the 2:23 mark. This delay gave all the gorgeous, swirling layers of instrumentation the spotlight — from the percussion fills of new drummer Boris Williams to the guitar and synth attack from Smith, Tolhurst and Porl. More than 35 years after it was recorded, it still holds up.

“A smile to hide the fear away. Oh smear this man across the walls. Like strawberries and cream. It’s the only way to be.”

"THE SAME DEEP WATER AS YOU" THE CURE (1989)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Disintegration (1989) - Track 9

Ranking: 6

The task of picking my favorite tracks from Disintegration is a lot like splitting hairs. They’re all so good. Truth is, any one of them could’ve ranked as high as #6 on my list of Top 30 Cure songs. Disintegration is one of the most cohesive and exceptional albums I’ve ever heard. Fans often comment on how it’s a perfect rainy day album. This is largely due to two things: the introspective nature of the music and the lyrical preoccupation with water. I will say this about “The Same Deep Water As You” though. Of all the tracks, it’s simultaneously the most morose and the most majestic song on the album. And that’s saying something.

Like many Cure songs, the guitars on this track are laying bare all the emotions of the protagonist in the lyrics. It could be a song about suicide. Or it could be a song about sticking through a relationship that has no positive end in sight. The song’s meaning almost doesn’t matter at all. It’s not about what the song is trying to say, it’s about how it makes you feel. Those ceremoniously monolithic synth notes. The cascading guitar riff that drips, ripples and leaks into your soul. And Robert letting out the words like his final gasp for air before the water level rises over his head. “The Same Deep Water As You” reminds us to embrace every feeling and emotion and give them their proper moment.

“Kiss me goodbye, pushing out before I sleep. Can't you see I try? Swimming the same deep water as you is hard.”

"A FOREST" THE CURE (1980)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Seventeen Seconds (1980) - Track 7

Ranking: 7

Few Cure songs have meant more than this one. Throughout the band’s storied canon, you can easily make the argument that no other Cure track has had the impact that “A Forest” has had all these years. “A Forest” is the song that has been performed in concert the most – more than “Boys Don’t Cry” despite being released later. The various studio and remix versions are great, but the best way to hear the song is truly live in concert. It’s practically a spiritual experience where Robert and Simon play in sync face to face. I always liked the song, but I remember the first time I heard it live the song seemed to take on another life. It seemed almost larger than life.

“A Forest”, in many ways, is the quintessential Cure song. It highlights the fact that the whole is far greater than the sum of its parts. Gallup’s iconic bass line beckons and haunts, but it’s nothing without Smith’s counterpart musings on guitar. Hartley’s keys on the original recording seem almost overly simplistic, yet complement the rest of the instrumentation perfectly. The song also captures Smith’s knack for recreating emotions. In “A Forest”, he doesn’t just speak of the fear of getting lost in the forest, he reenacts the fear and pushes the feeling into the listener’s own psyche. My favorite part of the song is when the fear as overwhelming as it becomes, dwindles down to nothing via Gallup’s sputtering bass line closer. Like waking up from a nightmare.

“The girl was never there. It’s always the same. I’m running towards nothing. Again and again and again.”

"A STRANGE DAY" THE CURE (1982)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Pornography (1982) - Track 6

Ranking: 8

I’m a late bloomer to The Cure’s fourth studio album, considered by many to be among their finest recordings, maybe only bested by Disintegration. The album is incredibly confident, distinct and, most importantly, influential. Pornography is considered to be a significant milestone in the development of gothic rock. While it may not be one of the band’s more accessible outputs, it seems to get better with time. Casual fans might like One Hundred Years and The Hanging Garden best, but “A Strange Day” is my favorite standalone track from the record – and clocks in at my #8 spot.

While I stand by my words that the entire Pornography album has aged extremely well, “A Strange Day” takes things to another level. Not just a blueprint for goth rock, the track is a foreshadowing of post-punk revival. It recalls sounds that began resurfacing in the early 2000s from bands like Editors and Interpol. The instrumental refrain at the 3:30 mark is especially reminiscent of Interpol’s debut album, Turn On The Bright Lights. “A Strange Day” is a dark, monumental display of Smith, Gallup and Tolhurst in complete lock step – from the cold, calculating snare hits and grating guitar riff to the haunting keyboard chords and trickling sound effects.

“Held for one moment I remember a song. An impression of sound. Then everything is gone forever.”

"THE KISS" THE CURE (1987)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987) - Track 1

Ranking: 9

The double album Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me captured the full spectrum of human emotions. It also showcased the band’s versatile instrumentation, especially on guitar. The rich, vast explorations on the album make it a great one to re-explore. Many people point to The Head On The Door as the start of The Cure’s imperial era, and Disintegration is universally recognized as the band’s masterpiece. Which sorta makes Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me a slightly underrated album, despite housing some of the band’s most well-known singles. One of my favorite tracks is the scorching, perilous opener “The Kiss”.

“The Kiss” is like the evil cousin of New Order’s “The Perfect Kiss”. It’s not a pretty affair. This Track One has four stages in a sprawling magnus opus. First, the lover is beckoned over. In the second stage, the lover becomes the subject of utter infatuation. Quickly, things make a turn for the worse. In the third stage, the lover is now suddenly the subject of disdain. And by the fourth and final stage, there’s nothing left except the protagonist’s wish for the lover to leave this world. In six minutes, it goes from “the” kiss to the kiss of death, flanked by a loud, wailing guitar that’s nearly possessed and Boris’ emphatic pounding on the drums that deliver the final nails in the coffin. Just brilliant in every regard.

“I never wanted any of this.”

"CHARLOTTE SOMETIMES" THE CURE (1981)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Single (1981)

Ranking: 10

A great homage and moment in music history occurred at the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame ceremony in 2019. One highly influential person – Trent Reznor – delivered a moving speech and introduction to a band many considered to be one of the most influential acts in alternative and gothic rock. Reznor spoke about the moment he first discovered The Cure on the radio and how the songs gave him a sense of solace. More telling and powerful, he spoke of what The Cure did for all its fans: create a world for us to get lost in. This world is clearly evident in the cloudy, murky beauty of “Charlotte Sometimes”.

I didn’t discover “Charlotte Sometimes” until I got my Standing On A Beach compilation cassette. The song is like a fictitious universe covered in a cloudy haze. Listening to “Charlotte Sometimes” is like stepping into an echo chamber. Smith’s vocals surround us wherever we turn, although he seems like he’s worlds away. The keys create a swirling, encapsulating cocoon for the listener driven by Gallup and Tolhurst’s rhythmic bed. Tolhurst uses electronic drums on this track, reminiscent of incessant, unanswered door knocks.

"A LETTER TO ELISE" THE CURE (1992)

I’m not sure if there’s a band that I can claim as my favorite of all time, because the reality is I have a different favorite every day. This process of choosing one favorite over all others seems futile. But, for me, The Cure, is about as close as it gets. For me, their music is irreplaceable. There are things that I feel when I put on a Cure record that I can’t experience with anything else. For the month of June, I hope to share some of this as a I cover a different Cure song each day – counting down from #30 to #1. And, in this case, I have no qualms stating my #1. #30DaysofTheCure

U.S. original release: Wish (1992) - Track 9

Ranking: 11

One of the worst, overly simplistic assumptions that listeners have made about The Cure’s music is that it exists on two extreme ends of the human spectrum: doom & gloom on one end and pure euphoria on the other. But nothing could be further from the truth. What makes The Cure so irresistible to its fans after all these years is their ability to encapsulate every human emotion with such genuineness and transparency. What takes many of their songs to the next level is their ability to encompass multiple emotions together, like what they did with Wish’s third and less successful single “A Letter To Elise”.

I think sometimes the reasons why people have such difficulty describing their emotions is because we’re feeling multiple things. There are often layers to sort through, not just these one-dimensional feelings. “A Letter To Elise” is a letter driven equally by remorse and nostalgia. Inspired by Kafka’s “Letters to Felice”, the track seems to be helplessly stuck in a complicated web of romance, regret and loss. Love is a complicated thing. Finally the world had a song that gave it some justice.

“But I let the dream go. And the promises broke. And the make-believe ran out...”