I feel like the popular answer for the whole “you can only take one Cure album with you to the deserted island” question would probably be Disintegration. And that is a really fucking great album, don’t get me wrong. But my choice would be “Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me” for the sheer variety. There’s moody, there’s upbeat and happy, there’s downright schizophrenic aching. It’s like an instrumental journey around the world. And that’s what I love.
But I have two favorites and they both remind me of stabbing the shit out someone mid-coitus on balmy summer nights.
First up is “The Kiss.” This song makes me want to simultaneously rage out and make a baby. (Pretty much how Chooch was conceived?) The instrumental intro is intense, passionate, HOT. And when Robert’s anguished wail bursts through the speakers, climaxing with his urgent desire to “get your fucking voice out of [his] head,” it’s like THE ORIGINAL SCREAMO.
Second is “If Only Tonight We Could Sleep” (with “Like Cockatoos” coming in a super close third). This is the song I want to hear as I’m dying.
When I saw the Cure at the Royal Theater in Canberra 13 years ago this October, they played all three of those songs in a row and it brought me to my knees; I remember briefly feeling alone in that moment, mostly because, well, I had gone to Australia for this concert alone. And I wished I had someone there with me to share this moment, but then I realized that I wasn’t alone: I was surrounded by a thousand people who felt the same way as I did, and who fully appreciated this moment more than most anybody. How could I think I was alone? I promise you that this was one of the Top 5 best moments I’ve had to date. October 19th, 2000, baby. Goddamn.
Never has music relaxed me so much, yet wound me up at the same time. It’s like being in a foreign place yet somehow feeling comfortable. The Cure is so good at that.