The Cure
Shaking off the Cobwebs
2008-02-14
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After 30 years in the music business, Robert Smith is taking The Cure back in time. With a founding member rejoining the band after 13 years, and without a keyboard player for the first time in decades, the British singer and guitarist is finishing a new album he says will remind fans of his work in the 1980s.
Smith founded The Cure in 1976 and made an early splash with tight three-minute post-punk songs like “Boys Don’t Cry.” Adding keyboards and layered guitars, he developed a taste for epic arrangements and took the band to the top of the charts in the 1980s with dark albums of melancholic grandeur like Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and Disintegration that also contained snappy pop hits such as “Just Like Heaven” and “Love Song.” His confessional lyrics made it acceptable for male rock singers to express feelings of vulnerability and opened the path to a plethora of emo bands such as Thursday or minimalist ’80s revival bands like Interpol.
His spidery hair, thick eyeliner and slightly smeared lipstick earned Smith the title of leader of the gloomy goth rock movement in the press, a type-casting he has long argued against, with little success. Synthesis caught up with the 47-year-old Smith during a break from his work on The Cure’s 14th studio album. The singer/guitarist, who has already come back from retirement once, is fretting over the lyrics for the 33 new songs the band has recorded. With the return of guitarist Porl Thompson and the departure of keyboardist Roger O’Donnell, this is a new and rejuvenated The Cure, and Robert Smith is keen to produce an album worthy of his band’s legacy.
Once again, you made big personnel changes in your band. What happened?
I’m always the driving force of the band, and I’m not very good at compromising when it comes to music and art. I just find it ridiculous that I should have to do something I don’t want to do, so it leaves everyone only one option: to leave. That’s what happened to Roger and Perry [Bamonte]. Sometimes I like to shake things up, because I’ve never seen The Cure as a job, it’s a vehicle of expression and that’s all it should be.
How’s your relationship with Porl now?
Porl is my brother-in-law; he married my younger sister a long time ago. He’s part of the family. It’s strange, when he was in the band we had a difficult relationship, and as soon as he left, our relationship got a lot better. This time around that he’s back into the band, we’re all older and wiser and we know each other a lot better, obviously. I think we want the same things now as a band, which is why he’s back. He’s brought back a sense of urgency; we’ve got a rock edge again. He’s such a fantastic guitarist, the new record that we’ve been making is showcasing what Porl does.
You don’t have a keyboard player for the first time in decades. Why didn’t you replace Roger?
There’s no need to when you got someone like Porl playing guitar. He can pretty much create any sounds that you want. An awful lot of keyboards on Cure albums are played by me. If I say it needs to sound like this and just play it, there’s no need to teach the player how to play it if it’s already been played. If there’s no keyboard player, there’s no sense of, “Well, what am I going to play.” It sounds great without a keyboard player, so why bother putting one in? If we had five people, you’re snubbing the person if you don’t want their instrument in.
You already retired once; how much longer are you going to be doing this?
I find it slightly upsetting to see seriously old people performing contemporary music. I haven’t quite reached that very old person stage, but I’m aware that time is moving on. Once I won’t be able to sing for three hours and also mentally wanting to do it, that’s when I’ll stop. I don’t want The Cure to fizzle out doing 45-minute shows of greatest hits; I think it would be an awful way to end the legacy of The Cure.
In the past you also used to drink before going on stage to work up the courage to perform. Are you over that now?
It was more to liberate me from my natural reservations. I got past it two years ago. For the first time in my life, I went on stage straight and I found out I enjoyed it. I drank through the performance and by the time I’d finish, I was usually pretty hammered. I am keenly aware more than anyone of how old I am, and I’ve always maintained that there’s something reasonably charming about seeing a 17-year-old fall over after one beer too many and very far from charming seeing a 47-year-old keel over after one beer too many. So that’s another reason why I don’t drink like I used to, but I still have a fair go at it when I’m with friends. I acknowledge my age, but I’m not thrilled about getting older. Nobody ever is, but it’s not as crippling as it used to be for me to understand that I’m getting older.
Smith founded The Cure in 1976 and made an early splash with tight three-minute post-punk songs like “Boys Don’t Cry.” Adding keyboards and layered guitars, he developed a taste for epic arrangements and took the band to the top of the charts in the 1980s with dark albums of melancholic grandeur like Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and Disintegration that also contained snappy pop hits such as “Just Like Heaven” and “Love Song.” His confessional lyrics made it acceptable for male rock singers to express feelings of vulnerability and opened the path to a plethora of emo bands such as Thursday or minimalist ’80s revival bands like Interpol.
His spidery hair, thick eyeliner and slightly smeared lipstick earned Smith the title of leader of the gloomy goth rock movement in the press, a type-casting he has long argued against, with little success. Synthesis caught up with the 47-year-old Smith during a break from his work on The Cure’s 14th studio album. The singer/guitarist, who has already come back from retirement once, is fretting over the lyrics for the 33 new songs the band has recorded. With the return of guitarist Porl Thompson and the departure of keyboardist Roger O’Donnell, this is a new and rejuvenated The Cure, and Robert Smith is keen to produce an album worthy of his band’s legacy.
Once again, you made big personnel changes in your band. What happened?
I’m always the driving force of the band, and I’m not very good at compromising when it comes to music and art. I just find it ridiculous that I should have to do something I don’t want to do, so it leaves everyone only one option: to leave. That’s what happened to Roger and Perry [Bamonte]. Sometimes I like to shake things up, because I’ve never seen The Cure as a job, it’s a vehicle of expression and that’s all it should be.
How’s your relationship with Porl now?
Porl is my brother-in-law; he married my younger sister a long time ago. He’s part of the family. It’s strange, when he was in the band we had a difficult relationship, and as soon as he left, our relationship got a lot better. This time around that he’s back into the band, we’re all older and wiser and we know each other a lot better, obviously. I think we want the same things now as a band, which is why he’s back. He’s brought back a sense of urgency; we’ve got a rock edge again. He’s such a fantastic guitarist, the new record that we’ve been making is showcasing what Porl does.
You don’t have a keyboard player for the first time in decades. Why didn’t you replace Roger?
There’s no need to when you got someone like Porl playing guitar. He can pretty much create any sounds that you want. An awful lot of keyboards on Cure albums are played by me. If I say it needs to sound like this and just play it, there’s no need to teach the player how to play it if it’s already been played. If there’s no keyboard player, there’s no sense of, “Well, what am I going to play.” It sounds great without a keyboard player, so why bother putting one in? If we had five people, you’re snubbing the person if you don’t want their instrument in.
You already retired once; how much longer are you going to be doing this?
I find it slightly upsetting to see seriously old people performing contemporary music. I haven’t quite reached that very old person stage, but I’m aware that time is moving on. Once I won’t be able to sing for three hours and also mentally wanting to do it, that’s when I’ll stop. I don’t want The Cure to fizzle out doing 45-minute shows of greatest hits; I think it would be an awful way to end the legacy of The Cure.
In the past you also used to drink before going on stage to work up the courage to perform. Are you over that now?
It was more to liberate me from my natural reservations. I got past it two years ago. For the first time in my life, I went on stage straight and I found out I enjoyed it. I drank through the performance and by the time I’d finish, I was usually pretty hammered. I am keenly aware more than anyone of how old I am, and I’ve always maintained that there’s something reasonably charming about seeing a 17-year-old fall over after one beer too many and very far from charming seeing a 47-year-old keel over after one beer too many. So that’s another reason why I don’t drink like I used to, but I still have a fair go at it when I’m with friends. I acknowledge my age, but I’m not thrilled about getting older. Nobody ever is, but it’s not as crippling as it used to be for me to understand that I’m getting older.
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