"Losing My Shit"- Mikey muses on a life with The Cure and their performance at Arena Wembley London 12/12/22.
London Underground 12/12/22 5:56p
Like sardines. Shooting to Arena Wembley to finally see them. Sinus headache right now. Post-covid fog. No energy. I don’t care. Unrelated, I spent last night on the bathroom floor sick as a dog. Food poisoning or a bug or something. I didn’t care. I get to finally see them. I yanked myself out of bed this morning and made the shit happen. Called work "running late" "how long?" "dunno". Hung up. I don't care. I'm going to see them. On my way in I slipped on a patch of ice and had a massive fall. I stood up and felt as if I broke my elbow. So fucking what. My assistant manager is thick. He talks and I don’t listen. So what. I can’t wait to see them. I barely ate anything all day. Had a single cup of coffee. Couldn’t get through many tasks. Poor co-worker picking up the slack. I’m a devil. I didn’t care. Just thoughts of finally being able to see them. I took toil two hours early to get home and have alone time to think about finally being able to see them. Six more stops then an eleven minute walk. Maybe we’ll see the opening band. So what. I finally see them. This foreword is shit. I don’t care. I finally get to see them.
Jason Bentley loaned me “Disintegration” on cassette at our church youth group in 1989. I remember it was summertime. I was always depressed because I felt completely alone and hated everything around me, confused as to why anything was the way it was. My mom made me go to church and I went along with it because I was afraid of the alternative. But there on that tape cover. Mmmm. Smith’s face. His sexy/scary lipstick and eyeliner. His beautiful large teased hair. The dizzying floral patterns that adorned the background. It turned me on in a lot of different ways that I was just beginning to understand. Eyeing the tape art reminded me of the small group of teenage kids that congregated at the top of the hill I walked past on my way home each day from school. They wore tattered clothes, mostly, black, red, purple and white, smoking cigarettes and speaking to no one else but each other. I was a suburban nerd dressed in department store faux surf/skate clothing but I wanted to look as insane as they did.
I got home, walked into my bedroom and immediately put the tape in my stereo. The music slithered out like an avalanche of what I thought heaven must feel like. Or drugs. Or sex. Or even rock-n-roll. The Cure were different than all of those things. I think I was afraid but I couldn’t turn away. I had no experience with the themes of romance and sex or drugs and alcohol but I knew all too well about terror, nightmares and the beauty of being a total outcast, seeing the poetry in between the cracks of everyday shit life. After repeated listens, I dubbed a copy for myself on cassette and returned the original to Jason. I am forever indebted to him.
Between 1989-1991, I was awash in a pre-“grunge” haze of Euro/UK pop, top 40 US pop, heavy metal, rap and contemporary R&B music. If it wasn’t country music, I most likely enjoyed it. My uncle also turned me on to Fleetwood Mac and Steely Dan so I was listening to them as well (a very odd time in American youth culture to be a fan of those I must say). I’d made mix tapes off the radio and walk around the neighborhood listening to them on my walkman. My life was mostly spent in my room dreaming of being a “professional musician” but I had no idea how to even go about that. I had no access to functioning musical instruments and I tried to play in school orchestra and band but got kicked out of both for poor grades. Outside of my imagination, I tried to hack it socially at school and in the neighborhood but I was a total loser. I was getting my assed kicked fairly regularly for no other reason than being “weird” and too scared to fight back. I’d go home to a mostly empty apartment because my mom would be at one of her three jobs or at school and dad was kicked to the curb a few years before for crimes beyond immoral comprehension. I’d eat microwave meals and watch Rap City. My homework sat in my backpack untouched. Then finally “Disintegration” went into my walkman and I’d fall asleep alone in the apartment.
Things change. I got a year or so older. Somewhat less awkward. Made a couple of other freak friends. A sense of pride started to take hold and I got even weirder. It’s a laugh. I met someone that stripped me of my xtian values and I go all in. No remorse. I am now taking in the entire Cure back catalog as well as Siouxsie and The Banshees. Grunge comes. Nirvana tore me limb by limb. I discover college radio. An entire universe opens up. I can’t keep up with everything I’m absorbing at this point. I’m now visiting the record store on campus with my friend on Saturdays to dig around for cds. We hang out at thrift stores and coffee shops. Soaking it all in. Start going to all ages matinees on Sundays. There are girls. And boys. I’m crushing on both. I feel like things are changing. Thanks Robert. I’m enjoying my city life as a young weirdo. Then my mom decides to move us to a hick town 30 miles away. Cowboys and rednecks. Jocks. Fucking idiots. Everywhere. I am devastated.
Tenth grade is up and down. I meet some like minded people (that I still love dearly) in this shit hole. We share our love of The Cure and it is very meaningful to me. But it is still a shit hole. I spend a lot of time in my room. Lots of time to listen to music. It is around this time that I am realising that I have a mental illness as well as a learning disability. I don’t know how to tell my mother but I try my best. She tells me I need Jesus. Fuck. Guess I’m on own with this one. At one point, I end up in the hospital for a month for losing my shit. I was 15 years old. My mother was angry with me for months over it. “Why can’t you just handle yourself?”. She also blames (truth) my obsession with The Cure one day as we're riding in the car, "this music isn't healthy for you." Bless her, she’s just didn’t understand. She never did.
I met him around junior year. He was in my art class, a year under me. We had some stupid assignment and he just drew a Cure logo. The teacher wasn’t pleased and we both chuckled. I complimented him on it and he invited me to his house that day. I remember it was raining and we chained smoked cigarettes on his back patio. He had a massive Cure cd/vhs collection. Official releases, bootlegs, everything. His dad was a big collector. Mostly porn vhs and jazz cds (enough to cover four walls of an office, floor to ceiling among others scattered throughout the house). I met his brother and he was a jerk. “Where’s my Fall cd at you prick?”. I had no idea who The Fall was. Our friendship blossomed into a full love affair with The Cure as well as a trunk full of other artists. I felt a silent romantic, poetic kinship with this individual. He also introduced me to altered states and total inebriation.
A few years later he and I were too drunk to drive home after band practice. We decided it was best to crash in our practice space. There was no heating. We had one blanket to share between us. We cuddled to stay warm. Things oddly escalated and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go there. “Robert Smith would be okay with it”, he said. There was pressure. I felt confused afterward, unsure of what had exactly happened. But the pressure happened again. And then again. Word got out in hick town. Things were different then. I was afraid of what my so called friends thought of me. I was also afraid for my safety. I remember listening to “Faith” alone during that time, full of shame and sadness, but also angry that I wasn’t able to seize control of the decision to take a step like that on my own volition and live freely with the aftermath.
As you readers can see, the time finally came. As the weeks got closer, I got more and more excited. I followed the tour via social media and YouTube. Friends that are Cure fans and I are texting in anticipation. They are just as excited as I am.
Here it is. We enter the building. Get a drink and a snack. Ushered to our seats. Sit through the opener. Then wait 30 more minutes.
Boom.
The performance was 100%. The sound was 100%. The setlist was 100%. Our seats were 100%. I pumped my fists, I cried, I danced, I watched in awe. They covered a lot of ground and avoided the material that I dislike (post-“Wish”). The new songs are all fantastic and I'm looking forward to their official release. Just wow. What a show.
- Alone
- Pictures of You
- At Night
- A Night Like This
- Charlotte Sometimes
- Lovesong
- And Nothing is Forever
- Burn
- The Figurehead
- A Strange Day
- Push
- Play For Today
- A Forest
- Shake Dog Shake
- From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea
- Endsong
Encore
- I Can Never Say Goodbye
- Plainsong
- Prayers For Rain
- Disintegration
Encore 2
- Lullaby
- The Walk
- Let’s Go to Bed
- Friday I’m in Love
- Close to Me
- In Between Days
- Just Like Heaven
- Boys Don’t Cry
The Cure's "Wish" 20th Anniversary disc is out now.
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