When I was a young man, I was obsessed with The Cure's pop songs. It was my sister's fault. I obsessed enough to tape every single album she had.
Then I learned the rules of The Cure. I was in a military high school at the time. A young, fairly hip (though I didn't know it at the time) Spanish teacher I drove me off campus one day, and I saw a Cure CD in the car. I told my teacher that my roommate and I LOVED The Cure. I spoke of my love of "In Between Days," "A Letter to Elise," and "Friday I'm in Love." I owned The Head on the Door and Paris.
My teacher told me it wasn't right to love the sappy pop-Cure. It was only right to love the downtrodden depressing songs of Disintegration, et al. I was allowed the occasional upbeat number (she, in fact admitted that "Why Can't I Be You" was too catchy to ignore). This was my first real taste of snobbery and I bought in completely. I traded all my "poppy" Cure albums for Sebadoh and Dinosaur Jr. records. My roommate followed suit. This wasn't a mistake per se—those are two of my favorites—but the following years I regretted it anyway. While slowly building my collection of Cure CDs back, I waited on Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me and The Head on the Door. Instead, I focused on Jawbreaker 7" and weird Weezer recordings from overseas from Napster's original run (ah, the glory days).
Alas, when I heard of the reissues series, I awaited my chance to nab the lost and forgotten songs of my youth. I'm not disappointed by anything other than my own stupidity. I can still nod and hum with "Push" as it glorifies the background flashes of pop garbage that Robert Smith adored. I can still wade through "Kyoto Song" and "The Blood" as they experiment with foreign ideas—both foreign to my young ears and foreign in nature. I still lie down and envelop "The Baby Screams"—Smith's prayer/death wish still rings as true today as it did when I was fifteen.
I'm still into it all. These reissues do more than evoke memories. They reinvigorate the side of me that debated ridding of these records in the first place. They re-establish the argument I should have had with my Spanish teacher—when "Close To Me" comes on we ALL win. When we listen to The Cure, it's all a perfect explanation of why we love to dance, brood, rock, stare at the ceiling and poke our heads through the door to see what the our older sisters were listening to that was so damn good. What's more? I can do all of this with the nerdy bonus disc of live, rare and demo recordings. To hell with the rules, I'm doing what's right; even if it's too late.
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