Drinking, Fighting, Fucking and Crying Title

Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying

The Cure DisintegrationAnd, as with all good things, we come to an end. My end with this particular column, at least. I’m hoping the future for Drinking, Fighting, F*&king, and Crying will unfold in an irregular but enthusiastic embracing by my fellow Jouptonians, and every now and again (or as often as anyone wants) a column pops up under this banner, no order to the choice of the four subjects necessary. As with everything on this site, write what moves you at the moment; if we see twelve drinking columns in a row, so be it! Nine crying posts? Good! For now though, let’s go into the final Cry.

The Joup Friday Album: The Cure – Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me

The_Cure-Kiss_Me,_Kiss_Me,_Kiss_Me_(2006)-FrontalSadness is, I have long maintained, very similar to a drug. A nasty, hurtful and yet still strangely alluring drug, whose effects both damage and enthrall. And there is a way to enjoy sadness. Yes, I know that makes me sound Goth and I suppose although I’ve never felt the need to dress according to the parameters of any particular social group, there is indeed a large component of the ‘Goth’ ethos in this thing I call Shawn. That said the uniform is weak; adhering to the jurisdictional lines of social strata isn’t what defines our tastes, it’s the feeling that inspires those conventions. And The Cure – although they once pioneered the ‘look’ and in current times pretty much lampoon the same – are all about those feelings. And while previously I have always enjoyed 1987’s Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me I never quite thought of it as one of their ‘sad’ albums, probably because my experiences with it have always felt a bit more anthological than conceptual to me, in the way it seemingly swings from joy to sadness to sexy to frightening. This uneven tone in both theme and composition render the record a slightly less solid emotional statement than other Cure records, Disintegration and Pornography for example. That said, two nights ago I discovered this record’s true majestic statement on sadness and, pardon the vulgarity, it fucking fucked me up.

Translate