From their days as three imaginary boys scrappily dreaming up post-punk hits in the late Seventies, to becoming beloved veteran rockers crafting songs for a lost world, few outfits have had such a long-lasting impact on the past 45 years of pop culture than the Cure.
Between Robert Smith’s iconically frizzy mop of jet-black hair, messy eyeliner and tremorous tenor, along with the darkly romantic nature of works like Disintegration and Pornography, the Cure have become de facto faces of goth rock, writ large. But that’s not exactly the whole of their sound, either — the group having also jetted towards heaven-sent dream-pop, funk-shuffled dance remixes, nocturnally jazzy tunes for the love cats, and so much more. It’s a curious thing, their towering discography. And yet, a lot of fans love the band when they’re at their darkest and most despairing.
With that in mind, we asked Revolver readers to weigh in on the greatest — and perhaps goth-est — Cure song of all time, and these were the top five vote-getters.
“Disintegration”
The title track to the Cure’s epic and beloved 1989 full-length locks itself into a steady, if agitated groove — but it also finds Smith rollicking himself along an emotional rollercoaster.
Above that the sly and chiming, chorus-pedal-soaked Simon Gallup bass line, Smith is mewingly, desperately seeking the “kiss of treachery” while simultaneously contemplating the negative impact of said duplicity. As he examines a dramatic, but not-quite-defined relationship, we know it won’t end well. Through it all, he’s crying crocodile tears “for the love of the crowd” — arguably some meta commentary on making music for their eyeliner-dripping fanbase. Either way, it’s a tense climax to an unimpeachable classic.
A good many of you tried to vote in all of Disintegration as one, unbroken masterpiece. And you know what? We can’t fault you for that logic, either.
“From the Edge of the Deep Sea Green”
The Cure followed up Disintegration with 1992’s Wish, specifically kicking off the album campaign with the bright-eyed jangle-pop confectionary that was mega-hit “Friday I’m in Love.” Let’s not forget, though, that the rest of the week — and ergo most Cure album tracks — was feeling pretty blue. Or maybe, at least in the case of this sigh-heavy and tear-stained jam, a moodier shade of sea green.
“From the Edge of the Deep Sea Green” hits a number of goth-romantic beats, with two doomed lovers relishing secret kisses ahead of another inevitable parting. While it’s pulsating with a Madchester-adjacent percussive vibrancy, and a positively psychedelic, speaker-panning guitar solo, this one also gets extra grim when someone hangs themselves mid-song — whether literal or metaphorical, we’re not too sure.
Too many tears, indeed.
“Fascination Street”
While most often thought of as the forefathers of goth rock, the Cure are kind of underrated when it comes to how hard they bring the funk. Disintegration’s mid-album “Fascination Street” isn’t the only one of their late Eighties gems to traffic in a salacious sad-boi groove, but it may be the best representation of this side of their songbook.
As explained by Smith to Cure News in 1998, the down-and-dirty nature of the song was inspired by a “band adventure” in New Orleans’ famously decadent Bourbon Street district. Not for nothing, it’s also anchored by the filthiest fuzz-bass tone this side of a vintage Napalm Death record.
“Burn”
“Burn” is one of the most curious outliers in the Cure catalog, and it’s somewhat miraculous that the song exists at all. Originally, the band were to contribute their rumbling Pornography standout “The Hanging Garden” to the soundtrack for 1994’s The Crow. But then Smith was inspired by the comic-book adaptation’s tragedy-driven plot enough to craft an original track between just himself and then-drummer Boris Williams. And what a scorcher it is.
Like some of the best Cure songs, it’s a dramatically shadow-cast goth anthem nevertheless fueled by a heartbreaking burning desire. An enduring favorite that dared to dream the Crow’s black dream. It’s perfect.
“A Forest”
“A Forest” might not be the band’s biggest chart hit, but damned if it isn’t one of the Cure’s most spectacularly jaw-dropping compositions. And considering the Seventeen Seconds-era classic is a moody, dubby darkscape that’s been played by the band more than 1,100 times since the early Eighties — the most of any of their songs — it’s safe to say that it’s close to the band’s hearts, too.
The studio track is driven by hypnotic drum-machine twitchiness, ink-blot bass bopping and a decay-dissonant guitar solo. Lyrically, it’s a landlocked gothic siren song — where a distant voice beckons you to wander out into the trees at night. It’s only later that you realize you’re in too deep, your mind’s playing tricks on you, and there’s no escape from these dark, dark woods.
Chilling stuff. And for those reasons and more, it’s the song most every Cure fan wants to hear again and again and again and again and again…