I’ve decided to declare this week as Cure Week on my blog, mostly because I can. I realize that today is Tuesday and most “[x] Weeks” would probably start on a Monday, but you know how it is over here: completely unorganized and scattered.
You might know that the Cure is my all-time favoritest band in all of the world. Yes, Robert Smith has way more of my heart than Jonny Craig. And if you didn’t know that, just come to my house, where framed portraits of Robert abound. (And dozens of others are rolled up in my bedroom, waiting to be framed.)
I was in the cemetery on Saturday (obviously), listening to the Cure (how cliché), when I started thinking about how much they’ve impacted my life, how I literally can’t listen to a single song of theirs without being transported back to certain times, and how thankfully I don’t associate them with any of the shitty people from my 20s.
Maybe you don’t know anything about the Cure, or maybe you only know the big radio singles (“Friday, I’m In Love” / “Lovesong” (NOT THE 311 VERSION, UGH UGH UGH) / “Close To Me” / “Just Like Heaven” / “Boys Don’t Cry”), and if even one person out there realizes that they like the Cure, I will consider this a success. BECAUSE THE CURE IS AMAZING and it makes me sad the amount of times I’m met with a blank look when I tell someone that the Cure is my favorite band. I guess I just assume that a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame-nominated band is well-known.
For Day One of Cure Week, and in honor of Chooch’s newfound fear of butterflies, let’s start with the classic “The Caterpillar” from the Top album, which I always consider to be one of their sleeper hits. It’s full of all kinds of weird shit, which is my favorite music genre. (The piano in the beginning of “The Caterpillar” sounds uncannily akin to the frenetic noise my brain makes when I’m writing in this blog, by the way.) I used to make my friend Brian watch this video over and over every time he came to my house, which probably factored into him eventually moving to Nebraska.