The Cure, not Natalie Portman

So, I was watching a movie last night called Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium with Dustin Hoffman, whats-his-face, and most importantly, Natalie Portman. Every time I see her in something (and I know if anyone ever reads this, they may disagree with me) I am stunned at her beauty. Just fucking gobsmacked, speechless. So I was planning on writing on her tonight, but at the last second (literally 50 seconds ago) changed my mind to writing about The Cure, not Natalie Portman.

The year was 1987, I was visiting my older sister, who lived in the suburbs of a midwestern metropolis. I was 12. My older brother, had just gone A.W.O.L. from the U.S. Army, and the first stop was his old stomping ground. (My parents and I had moved to a suburb of a different midwestern metropolis, some 500 plus miles away.) So, one hot summer day, my brother and I get in his Renault Alliance, and he pops a tape into the cassette deck. That tape was Standing On A Beach. A singles collection by the Cure, covering the past 9 years, and 7 albums. The song that really made my 12 year old ears perk up was a tune called "Boys Don't Cry".

Up until this point, my taste in music was pretty much whatever was being played on Top 40 radio. Let's see, that would have been...Madonna, Huey Lewis and the News, Michael Jackson, Debbie Gibson had just come out, as had Tiffany, Glass Tiger...you get the idea. BUT (and this is a big but) when my siblings were still living at home, I was fed a steady musical diet of the Ramones, David Bowie, and Cheap Trick from my siblings, and the Guess Who, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and Elvis from my mother. My Dad's taste in music, well, that isn't necessary to bring up at this point in time. Let's just say he liked both kinds of music, Country AND Western.

So, back to that day in my brother's car. Boys Don't Cry was playing and it was one of those things that I wanted to hear again and again...I never wanted that song to end.

Fast forward to the fall of '87. I am back at home in my little suburb with my parents, my brother had moved in with us after a few weeks at Leavenworth Prison for going A.W.O.L., the Army discharged him. So, I now have access to his Cure tape, which I listen to while doing dishes. I listen to the first 3 (sometimes 4) songs on side 1. Killing An Arab, Boys Don't Cry, Jumping Someone Else's Train, (and when I didn't stop and rewind it) A Forest. I knew exactly 4 songs by the Cure, and I felt this made me an expert. Seventh Grade came around, and I would wear my brother's Cure T-Shirt (coincedentally, a "Boys Don't Cry shirt). One day at lunch, a kid named Jason, notices my shirt and starts talking to me about the Cure. Now this kid was really into punk and college music. Keep in mind dear reader, the term "Alternative" (which I abhor) as refered to music had not been invented yet, but there was "college radio". None of which I listened to. I was totally content in my little musical world listening to my 4 Cure songs. This Jason kid and I became fast friends based on my in depth knowledge of 4 Cure songs. My brother brought home 2 Cure home videos. Staring At The Sea (the video version of Standing On A Beach) and a live concert video called "The Cure In Orange". I was only interested in watching the "Boys Don't Cry" segments of both of these.

Fast forward again, to the 1989 MTV Video Music Awards. My musical world would be rocked again. I heard Just Like Heaven for the first time. The world cracked open. Debbie Gibson was being eclipsed by a much larger body in my musical universe.

Six months later, I am living one suburb over from where I lived in elementary school, where I grew up. Back by my sister. I make one great friend in High School, immediately after I start there. His taste in music is complete horse shit considering he is a freshman in high school, and it is 1990. His musical LOVES are Air Supply, Hall And Oates, and The Beach Boys. I meet this kid and we start talking about music and I am thinking "WTF, who listens to THAT?!?"

The summer between freshman and sophomore year, my liking of the Cure grows into an obsession. I buy everything I can find of theirs. CD's, posters (this was a big one) vinyl, European rarities, buttons, T shirts, whatever. I spend the years 1991-1993 on a nearly ONLY CURE diet. Occasionally listening to R.E.M., the Pixies, the Ramones, the Go-Go's, They Might Be Giants. But it was mostly the Cure.
By Senior year ('92-'93), I ate, breathed, shit, slept, the Cure. I senior year I would wear one of probably 15 Cure t-shirts each day under either a (Robert Smith) trademark black cardigan, or black blazer. I had (I shit you not) 30 Cure posters hanging in my bedroom, on the ceiling, etc. I had their entire catalog up to that point, books, whatever I could find. My junior year I went to school on Halloween dressed as Robert Smith (the lead singer, BTW) AND trick-or-treated as him. My Senior thesis paper...yes my THESIS paper, was basically a 25 page report on the Cure. And somehow I managed to score an A. There was no fucking thesis, hell there was no research involved. I totally bullshitted my way through it, and got my fat A.

So, after high school, I finally started to get into some other music. A friend turned me on to Sarah McLachlan and Tori Amos. I picked up on Belly, Liz Phair, Counting Crows, and Nine Inch Nails on my own. I was broadening my horizons. "Alternative" *shudder* radio was helping. But the Cure was still there.

1996 saw the release of the Cure's Wild Mood Swings album. At first, I LOVED it, but the more I listened to it...it didn't appeal to me. What the hell was happening to me? What was wrong? It was the Cure. I was supposed to love it. Fuck...I was outgrowing the Cure. The band that got me an A in my College Prep Comp class, was getting outgrown. I had figured out that the Cure was my Winnie-The-Pooh. I had grown up. A few years later, they released an album called Bloodflowers, I bought it, listened to half of it, and left it at my sister's. She could have it.

When my oldest niece had graduated from high school, (the same one I went to) I wanted to give her a gift with some meaning, not just cash, which I knew would get blown. I lovingly wrapped all of my rare Cure vinyl in a box. Wrote a letter telling her how proud I was of her, and how the passing of my Cure records to her was symbolic. One generation to the next. I didn't even want to be there when she opened it. I had outgrown the Cure, but get very attached emotionally to things and had a hard time giving the records up. I know they are loved.

Now, I am in my thirties, married and can barely stand to listen to the Cure. I have purchased a couple of Cure tribute albums over the years, and can still appreciate their music...I just can't listen to the Cure themselves anymore. And someone may say that because I am older, my taste in music may have changed...yes, it has but only to a certain extent. I am much broader in what I listen to, but at the same time, consider myself a music snob. I look down on people who are content with whatever kind of horseshit Beyonce, Nickelback is on the radio. Because I KNOW that even the crappiest music I listen to is better than that. The Cure taught me to appreciate interesting, well written, music, not to be content with the crap that is usually popular. For that, I thank them. Every now and again, I will listen to Boys Don't Cry, and it takes my back to 1987, sitting in my brother's car...