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Photo: Carsten Windhorst
At first it’s unclear what all the fuss is about. Wembley Arena isn’t just full, it’s positively crawling with the mostly middle aged: plenty of lager swilling grown-men remembering their student days and a good few mumsy types with their fishnet sleeves dug out for the occasion. And onstage, possibly the oddest sight of all: Robert Smith, the Krusty the Clown of pop, complete with greying afro and terrifying make-up. You begin to wonder if he always looks like an aging otherworldly goth prophet; if kids hide behind their mums in supermarkets and ask audibly embarrassing questions as he shuffles by with wilting smudged cherry lips and smeary coal eyes.
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Quickly though, it becomes apparent that, despite appearances, Smith and his stripped-back band are so far graduated into the world of veteran pop that they are unsuspecting deities. There’s not a keyboard or synth in sight, just the four of them, so musically polished that you can almost hear the echoes of their generation-spanning success reflected in their set. They should be celebrating the release of their thirteenth studio album, but there’s barely a new song in sight. Instead, The Cure dig deep into thirty years worth of material to make up the three hour performance.
There was at least forty minutes of gothic gloom drawn from the 1989 Disintegration period, a good few metal-esque moments heralded by Shake Dog Shake and a couple of headlong descents into sheer jazz-pop joy. Smith barely uttered a word, corpulently plodding about the stage, strangely at odds with the gloriously soaring vocals that reverberated around the arena. Highlights came with the heady yellow hues of ‘Friday I’m In Love’, greeted by a word-perfect reception from the ready audience, and ‘Play For Today’, which managed to muster testosterone-fuelled chanting worthy of a football crowd.
It was hard to gauge the band’s sentiments as they executed an endless back-catalogue of hits before a largely sedentary audience. Bassist Simon Gallup adopted relentless, energetic bouncing, whilst guitarist Porl Thompson barely looked up from the floor. One of very few indications that they weren’t bored to tears by their own success came with Smith’s words: “This is how I felt thirty years ago. It’s like taking a time machine… all good.”
Which is exactly true of the whole experience. There was nothing in Thursday’s set to suggest that The Cure have any intention of branching out, or breaking new ground, any time soon. But equally, though the band members might be showing their age, the immutable wonder of Robert Smith’s glorious gloom-pop shows no signs of passing its sell by date any time soon, either.
To see The Cure in action at Wembley, CLICK HERE.
