As my family and I walked a local outdoor mall this past Sunday afternoon, we heard gunshots coming from a Civil War re-enactment taking place a few blocks away (and a few thousand miles from the closest actual Civil War site). Only minutes before we had been laughing as we noticed the signs along the road, and we made jokes about the people whose daily lives were so boring that they had to reach a century and a half into the past for weekend entertainment. I was so glad we were cool.
And then it hit me. The night before, my wife and I had attended a re-enactment of our own -- the Cure, live in concert, about a century and a half after they first hit big with "Boys Don't Cry." Don't worry, though. If there's one important difference between our night at the Hollywood Bowl and all those imitation hillbillies running around with muskets, it's this: the Cure flat-out rocked.
As always, the Cure begins and ends with Robert Smith. Even though he'll turn fifty years old next April, Smith keeps it real on stage -- the tumbleweed hairdo, deeply smudged black eyeliner, and sloppy red lipstick are still in full effect, and I'd have to say that he wears it well.
The band's fashionista, though, is clearly their on-again-off-again lead guitarist, Porl Thompson. Thompson was resplendent in a fishnet body suit which was held tightly in place by a leather corset. Knee-high patent leather boots with six-inch heels capped off the ensemble, and his head was shaved bald to show off the black tribal tattoos snaking around his head. (As an aside, a suspiciously normal-looking guy in the row behind us was absolutely obsessed with Thompson's outfit. To quote: "I just wish I could be comfortable enough to wear something like that!")
But back to Smith. Even though he looks the same on the outside, something seems to have happened to the Godfather of Goth. He's happy. Sure, he managed a sinister growl as he belted out the less-then-loving lyrics of "The Kiss":
Get it out, get it out, get it out,
Get your fucking voice
Out of my head.
I never wanted this
I never wanted any of this
I wish you were dead
I wish you were dead...
But there was a lot more to Mr. Smith. As he led the band through a career-encompassing, three-hour set, he flirted with the camera, teased the crowd, and gladly accepted bouquets of flowers from fans in the front row. In short, he had a good time.
This was the Cure?
Yes, this was the Cure. And as they ripped through one hit after another (Lovesong, Pictures of You, Lullaby, Just Like Heaven, Let's Go to Bed, Love Cats) the band seemed to be reminding us that these songs were the bricks in the road that everyone else has followed. Like them or not (and you really should like them), bands like Jane's Addiction, Smashing Pumpkins, and even Nine Inch Nails owe a debt to the Cure. Remind me now, how it is that they haven't yet been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?
But back to the show. Now here's the beautiful part. Whether you were once a thirteen-year-old boy who stole your sister's eyeliner and found solace in Smith's depressing lyrics, a sorority girl who fell in love when your boyfriend gave you a mix-tape that started off with "Just Like Heaven," or even a college junior who turned out the lights and listened to "Disintegration" for hours on end, everything came together for you with the thirty-fifth and final song of the night.
The song was almost thirty years old, but it spoke to all of us -- the mark, I suppose, of a truly classic song. The entire Bowl, it seemed, sang along from beginning to end, culminating with the final verse:
Now I would do most anything
To get you back on my side
But I just keep on laughing
Hiding the tears in my eyes
Because boys don't cry
Boys don't cry
Boys don't cry.
As the last few notes died away and it became clear that this fourth encore was finally the end of the evening, the crowd thanked the band for three hours and thirty years. As the cheers cascaded down to the stage, a funny thing happened. With no more music left to play, Robert Smith clearly didn't know what to do. He smiled, but only half a smile. He bowed, but only half a bow. For the first time all night, he appeared nervous and uncomfortable, and he lingered on stage, perhaps hoping we wouldn't go. As he looked out at us through the massive video screens flanking the stage, I suddenly flashed back to a verse from the middle of that final song:
I would tell you
That I loved you
If I thought that you would stay
But I know that it's no use
That you've already
Gone away...
Perhaps, but we'll definitely be back.
The Cure::Hollywood Bowl::May 31, 2008 Playlist
Plainsong
Prayers for Rain
The End of the World
The Walk
A Night Like This
Lovesong
Sleep When I'm Dead
To Wish Impossible Things
Pictures of You
Lullaby
The Edge of the Deep Green Sea
The Perfect Boy
Hot Hot Hot!!!
The Only One
Push
Friday I'm in Love
In Between Days
Just Like Heaven
A Letter to Elise
Never Enough
Wrong Number
One Hundred Years
Baby Rag Dog Book
Encore #1
If Only Tonight We Could Sleep
The Kiss
Encore #2
At Night
M
Play for Today
A Forest
Encore #3
Love Cats
Let's Go to Bed
Freak Show
Close to Me
Why Can't I Be You?
Encore #4
Boys Don't Cry
Comments