The Cure’s intoxicating concoction of dark and luminous remedies for the soul dazzle Glasgow’s OVO Hydro crowd as they entice us with a new fragility while indulging our lust for the past.
Robert Smith once described The Twilight Sad as “the best band playing the best songs”. Quite a statement and not too bad a compliment for tonight’s support act who first toured with The Cure back in 2016. But when you listen to the Scottish band’s intense fusion of feedback-laden discord and brooding atmospherics, it’s not hard to see where Smith’s coming from, with a sound so dark it should depress but often uplifts the soul. Sound familiar? Their short set includes the sparse, haunting drills of 2014’s There’s A Girl In The Corner, which has since been covered by Smith himself, but tonight sees vocalist James Graham’s accent spread thick across the angst-fuelled lyrics.
As always, Graham looks like he’s turned up to do some venue maintenance in those black dungarees, scowling, twitching and literally bending over backwards to entertain, all the while jerking his head like it’s still infested with the nits he appeared to have been battling during the summer’s Connect Festival. But he’s also appreciative of the opportunity to warm up tonight’s crowd, something the band do perfectly while at the same time enticing goosebumps on their cover of Frightened Rabbit’s Keep Yourself Warm, Grant Hutchison drumming for his life on his other band’s number, his brother Scott close to everyone’s heart. A couple of air punches and a “Yas Glasgow” ends [10 Good Reasons for Modern Drugs] and the set, the band clearly emotional to be on their home turf for such a momentous evening.
Once we realise that the sound of rain isn’t a leaky ceiling that Graham’s away to fix but rather a soothing precursor to the arrival of the much-anticipated Cure on the final stretch of their Shows Of A Lost World European tour, we settle into our spots and wait impatiently.
The band finally takes to the stage, Simon Gallup on bass, Reeves Gabrels on guitar, Perry Balmonte on keys / guitar, Jason Cooper on drums and Roger O’Donell on synth. Then at last, as if Beetlejuice has been called three times from the stalls, Robert Smith is summoned to the right-hand edge of the stage, his smile outstretched towards the wings, his face softening as he nods and drinks in the mother of all welcomes before heading over to the other side to make sure everyone gets their fix. If I had to guess what flavour of long-abandoned candy floss Smith’s hair represented tonight I’d probably opt for a blend of liquorice-laced Sherbet Fountain and Parma-Violet. But you’ve got to hand it to him, he’s not dropping the guise for anyone, not even moany old mods who claim he’s too old for all this eyeliner and backcombing malarkey. Yeah right, pot, kettle and all that…anyway since when did Smith ever listen to his elders?
It’s 14 years since The Cure released an album but tonight they give us a taste of the imminent Songs Of A Lost World, awash with the sobering realities of loss, something Smith has had to deal with too much recently. Of course they also find the time over the next 2 hrs 45 mins to fit in some well-loved classics and less-aired gems from their 44 year back-catalogue of remedies. Although there are lulls in the proceedings for some, depending on personal preference of course, there’s undoubtedly something for everyone from the punchy pop of Boys Don’t Cry to the glorious goth of A Forest.
Opening number Alone sees Smith’s yearning vocals ooze sorrow, the new track’s intro roaming free in swathes of uplifting melody as my friend yells “Robert!” in case he’s forgotten she’s there within the 14,000-plus crowd. She’s quite the fan, to the point that her old flatmate threatened to burn her copy of Disintegration back in 1989 because she played it so much. He’s also here tonight…it was only a threat.
As the band step back into that year, Pictures Of You’s lush choir of swirling guitars tease the crowd into a dreamlike trance, while 1985’s A Night Like This embodies remorse and Lovesong’s mournful undercurrent intoxicates. Although the angst of youth is long gone within the band, Smith articulates these afflictions with renewed vigour, and all round the sound tonight is fuller, rockier, suiting Gallup to a T as he trots around the stage, thrusting his bass and partaking in some monitor lunges.
With Wish celebrating its 30 year anniversary last month, it was relived it in its full glory on a Tim Burgess Twitter Listening Party a few weeks ago, Smith describing From the Edge Of The Deep Green Sea as a psychedelic trip he’s not sure ever ended. Tonight that’s clearly the case as a kaleidoscope of colour illuminates the screen, Gabrels’ guitar spiralling off into a goth-rock frenzy before sprawling new number Endsong concludes the main set.
The first of the encores, really just part of a three-act set, begins with new number I Can Never Say Goodbye, Smith telling us it’s about his late brother before a surging storm gives way to fragile textures of soothing keys and chiming guitar, backlit with the image of a fairground wheel, perhaps representing a childhood long gone and longed for. It’s plain to see how painful it is for him to perform this song, but also how important it is that he does so. They then head back to the early days with title track from their third studio album, Faith, a desolate darkness engulfing the audience. It’s around this point I hear someone say they can do with some Pornography…of course they’re referring to the album which includes next number, One Hundred Years, the stark consequences of war tormenting our minds and reinforced in black and white on screen. As the grim but glorious melody unfurls, Smith’s eyes well up, and it’s fair to say he’s not alone. After almost seven minutes we come up for air, just in time too get lost in A Forest, the single from 1980’s Seventeen Seconds which still reverberates in new music today, its dark wave of spacious atmospherics thrilling the crowd, many who’ve clearly been waiting on this moment for over two hours. It’s a spellbinding and decadent slice of goth, tonight closing with some throbbing blasts of bass, Gallup’s brilliance reeling in the crowd.
The final encore energises the audience with a breeze through The Cure’s poppiest hits such as Lullaby, Close To Me, In Between Days and that old Friday number, ending with 1979’s Boys Don’t Cry.
It’s been a wonderful night, brimming with top tunes and memories of special moments as the soundtrack to long-forgotten days played out. As Gabrels makes a quick exit, the others hang about for a bit in appreciation and Smith returns to his starting spot, at the side of the stage, once again taking in the jubilation of the audience. An endearing smile crosses his face as he clasps his hands together like like a wee old dear. Aw bless! But don’t be fooled, there’s nothing twee about him and I leave you with one of my favourite clips celebrating The Cure’s inclusion in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame a few years back. Cheers Bob and gang for making my Sunday night a Friday, and my day every time I see this!
Words: Shirley Mack @musingsbymarie
Pictures: Calum Mackintosh @ayecandyphotography