July 29-August 4, 2004
music
![]() WHY CAN'T HE BE THEM?: "[The Cure] don't jump up and down onstage," says The Rapture's Luke Jenner (foreground), "but they use the crap out of the flange pedal, which is pretty great." Photo By: Cara Bloch |
How The Cure created its own opening acts.
If Axl Rose ran into Robert Smith, he'd probably tell the "motherfucker" to "get in the ring." Which is unfortunate. The two have a lot in common, things like egocentric songwriting and accelerated aging. Ever watch yeast rise? Well, toss some bacteria and flour in the oven, add cornrows to the crust and you've got Rose. As for Smith, sprinkle some powdered sugar on top of baked bread and let it bask in the billowing shadow of youthful elegance.
Aside from the obvious, there's one key difference here. Despite more than 25 years of hiring and firing his band, Smith continues to create quality music with The Cure, as evidenced by the wild mood swings of its eponymous 13th LP (Geffen). The band is also still an impressive live act; they hit fascination street this summer for the goth blockbuster Curiosa tour with a fleet of youthful disciples in tow.
"I am finally starting to appreciate them as a historic band," says Luke Jenner, The Rapture's vocalist-guitarist. "They are one of the best bands of the '80s, which is my favorite time period of music."
Jenner credits a friend with pancake makeup and a "Boys Don't Cry" poster for introducing him to The Cure. The Standing on the Beach singles collection lulled the singer to sleep from a bedside boom box during seventh grade. It's easy to see why. The material is timeless: the androgynous pop of "Boys Don't Cry," jazzy swagger of "Lovecats," the hollow, prickly post-punk of "Killing an Arab." Emo forefathers The Get Up Kids even covered the keyboard-backed, bedroom balladry of "Close to Me."
"Whenever they put out a record it still seems relevant to people, which is remarkable," says Conor Oberst. The Bright Eyes mastermind was led to the Beach earlier than Jenner way back in third grade when the rest of us were still listening to Salt-N-Pepa and Snow. His brother handed the cassette down like an heirloom, a rite of passage.
"I listened to it fucking relentlessly," Oberst says. "I am a sucker for the sweet, sad pop songs which he does oh so well."
Smith is comparably smitten over Oberst's own sweet, sad pop songs. Enough that he asked Bright Eyes to open Curiosa, a self-referential tribute to The Cure's legacy. Oberst declined the offer, citing his refusal to play any Clear Channel shows. The decision also recently extended to some Morrissey shows.
"It's sad because they are bands I like, but I don't lose sleep over it or anything," he explains.
Most artists would lose sleep over such a decision. Like The Rapture, who snipe cues from The Cure like a live sampler on "Olio." Or Thursday, one of the only post-hardcore acts to reference The Smiths, Joy Division and Lifetime. Can't forget Interpol either, whose singer, Paul Banks, is unfairly linked to fellow mope-peddler Ian Curtis.
"It's the kind of thing you never think would ever happen to you in life," says Interpol bassist Carlos D. "For some of us it's a real head trip, like being asked by your favorite writer to write a short story for a compendium he or she's organizing."
"I was delighted," adds Mogwai guitarist-vocalist Stuart Braithwaite, another willing addition to the Curiosa lineup. "We were planning not to play this summer at all but changed our minds for this."
Some of the first chords Braithwaite learned were from Cure songs. This is no surprise, given The Cure's dreary-dirge side and Mogwai's penchant for euphoric, effects-heavy instrumentals. Smith's guitar skills are also a selling point for Jenner, even though The Rapture is known more for inflecting its rock with disco and house.
"They don't jump up and down onstage, but they use the crap out of the flange pedal, which is pretty great," he says.
If he's lucky, Jenner just may be able to touch Smith's flange. The goth god personally invited The Rapture, Interpol and Mogwai to open the main Curiosa stage. In the spirit of festivals, Smith also secured a second stage of rotating acts. The Camden stop includes headliners Muse and Thursday, as well as Melissa Auf der Maur and The Cooper Temple Clause. The latter hails all the way from Reading, England, and somehow successfully blends the best elements of metal, rock and IDM. Vocalist Ben Gautrey admits to being somewhat unfamiliar with The Cure.
"We were a bit young for The Cure," he says. "We know a few albums, like Disintegration, and a few hits, so it'll be interesting to hear them.
Did you like what you heard?
"I like that they don't conform," Gautrey says. "They are passionate about what they do and don't give a shit about anyone else. Too many bands regurgitate the same album once they have success with one. It's stale, lifeless and boring."
Melissa Auf der Maur is still in the midst of supporting her debut solo album, so she's quite excited about The Cure's summons. Especially since she just ended an opening stint for The Offspring.
"I said yes because the band invited me, but their fans were not the right people to play psychedelic feminine rock music to," she says, laughing.
Auf der Maur was an art student in Montreal before she joined the music biz. So of course she once indulged in the dark pop of The Smiths and The Cure. A stop on their 1988 "Head on the Door" tour was one of her first concerts. A decade later, she played bass for Hole before The Cure at a bizarre Molson promotional concert in London.
"I was surprised they were still playing," she says of the show.
Surprised, but relieved. Auf der Maur says she prefers those who juxtapose preconceptions of gender, whether it's her own solution of sweet vocals and sludgy desert-rock riffs or Smith's eyeliner.
"My favorite kind of music comes from men who are daring enough to explore their emotional feminine side, whether it's rock music or melancholy new-wave music," she says. "Beautiful, magic weirdos that's what a good man should be."
The Curiosa Festival 2004, Sun., Aug. 1, 5 p.m., $20-$77.50, Tweeter Center, Mickle Blvd. and Riverside Dr., Camden, N.J., 215-336-2000.
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