Entretiens avec The Cure

La tête trop dans le cirage et les neurônes endormis pour lire tout ça en anglais ! pfff

lol mon anglais est limité je vais crier au secours
Je prendrai le temps de lire l'article plus tar

Comme c'est Chaauud Chaauud Chaauud !!!!






Ca me met presque le Popol en Folie de voir toute cette extase et zèle C'est l'Euphorie dans le Slip je vous dis
Eh oui Vive The Cure




SOLEDAD à MADRID 2008

purée !!

QUELLE CHANCE !!

Ouais
C'est des Bollus ces musicos

J'aimerais juste une fois être juste à côté d'un d'entr'eux..en dehors d'un concert je veux dire mais même pas forcément leur parler, je serais de ttes façons incapable mort de stress ou de 'plaisir'
mais juste être là (faudra que je pense à me retenir de sourire béatement ou encore de laisser la bouche ouverte)
évidemment, si en plus, c'est à côté de Bob

Ha ça Robert et son charisme !!!

Terrible !!!!


LOL et MICHAEL interviewés à la TELE

http://vimeo.com/channel19642

Mon Dieu Lol ! il a changé...

bah il est vachement bouffi..... enfin, encore plus qu'avant..

à croire qu'il a pas arrété de picoler....

ou pire...qu'il prend de la cortisone


pourvu que c'est pas ça !!!

The hair is bird's-nest perfect. The lipstick scrawled on with impeccable inaccuracy. The outfit a bleak cornucopia of black jogging top, jet granddad shirt, pitch baggy trousers and chunky boots of deepest ebony. He shuffles around the misty, Tim Burton-style cardboard forest NME has erected in his studio's live room with practised awkwardness, wringing his hands and pretending to shiver like an overgrown 10-year-old playing the lead in a school production of Edward Scissorhands.

It's definitely a Robert Smith alright. But is it the Robert Smith?

As our evening at Parkgate Studio in the wilds of East Sussex draws on, we find more and more reasons to believe The Cure have mischievously sent along one of Smith's many adoring clones to conduct their first interview in years.


The Robert Smith, legend claims, is painfully timid, deeply morose and prone to explosive, egocentric, band-sacking tantrums. This Robert Smith, however, couldn't be more accommodating.

He's keen to make sure we've all the beer and nibbles we desire, apologises when Interpol come on the studio iPod because, "I know you don't like them; is this painful for you?", and happily poses for over two hours of spooky snapshots with the modest proviso, "Is it OK if I wear black?"

The day before the interview he'd emailed to ask what sort of tipple we'd like and our reply of "red wine, preferably Spanish" has led to the entire night having a Hispanic theme; all wines are Rioja, all beers San Miguel and dinner is paella.

What's more, when we sit Smith down in the studio's front lounge for his only interview of 2008 we find him effusive, boisterous and constantly on the verge of a choking fit of giggles. He seems, well, really rather happy.

Anyone would think doom-rock's erstwhile Pope Of Mope was excited at the impending release of '4:13 Dream', The Cure's 13th studio album and easily their best since 1992's 'Wish'. But we know better.

Congratulations, Robert Smith! The Cure are set to be crowned next year's NME Godlike Geniuses!

"It's very nice of NME to offer it to us," says the man affectionately known as Uncle Bob, in a Crawley twang strangely reminiscent of an even chirpier Noel Fielding.

"It came a bit out of the blue. Some of the people who have won it. I've got a list of the people and some of them are well deserving of that honour and some, perhaps, in my opinion, not so. Does it devalue the award? Not necessarily. Do I think we're deserving of it? Yes, probably, if anyone else is. Over the course of 30 years I've probably done enough to warrant getting an award."

Not arf, Bobster. Indeed, it's difficult to imagine a band more worthy of the accolade. Not only were The Cure (alongside Joy Division, Sonic Youth and The Smiths) the original architects of everything we now know as 'indie', from its jittering heartbeat to its chiming maelstrom guitars to its slapdash way with a mascara stick, but they did it all while being the UK's best pop band disguised as glowery freakazoid zombie clowns with permanently priapic hairdos.

They're the enduring '80s icons who provided emotional succour for the desolate and dislocated with majestically moody masterpieces such as 'Pornography' and 'Disintegration' and jumped around whooping whopping great pop tunes such as 'The Lovecats', 'Close To Me', and 'Friday I'm In Love' dressed as bears for everybody else.

They were cool enough to invent goth and then disown it in time to invent every emotional rock band from Cocteau Twins to Arcade Fire instead. And if The Cure hadn't wrestled the big, blustery synths from the new romantics and beaten them bloody with deviant razorwire guitars back in the early-'80s, rock music today would be nothing but weedy, reedy janglebottoms ripping off The La's and The Killers would sound like Starsailor. FACT.

"Do I ever feel Godlike?" Smith ponders. "Rarely. I used to, occasionally. I think the job that I do and attaining a certain level of success, it often brings you feelings of omnipotence, hand-in-hand with taking vast amounts of drugs, but it's not a bad thing as long as you don't wake up in the morning still believing you are that person.

"We've been talking about what we're going to do at the awards, about trying to segue every hit. If we can put them all in the same key and just run through, it would be really cool to do a six-minute piece that took in everything. It would be a big arse though, because if anyone forgets just one of them, you're fucked."

Ambition, drunkenness, drama, opulence, jubilation, drug mania, suicide and despair. And playing acid tennis with himself, snorting five-foot lines of speed with Lemmy and being the only member of Siouxie And The Banshees in pyjamas. Why are The Cure next year's Godlike Geniuses? Show me, show me, show me.

Check out part two of the interview where Robert Smith discusses The legacy, the pop in their pomp, growing old gracefully and what it’s like still being relevant after all these years.



THE LEGACY

The sumptuous soundscapes of Mogwai or Godspeed You! Black Emperor. The acrobatic vocal yelps of The Rapture or !!!. The synth seductions of 'Mr Brightside' and 'All These Things That I've Done'.

The lush scree at the heart of Editors, Interpol, Bloc Party, Muse, A Place To Bury Strangers, Friendly Fires and any other band with agony in their souls and hearts as black as their trousers. The Cure's influence is as widespread and prevalent in alternative music as cyanide pills at the Halifax Christmas party; their sound has become a key link in indie rock's DNA.


"The tipping point was a few years ago," says Robert, "when suddenly bands were coming up who weren't afraid to namecheck The Cure. We were unfashionable pretty much everywhere post-'Bloodflowers', but suddenly there were lots of young bands who'd grown up listening to 'Disintegration', 'Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me', or 'Wish' and didn't know that you weren't supposed to like us. So we kind of knew it was happening, at some point there's going to be a generation of people who are going to go and form bands who are going to have seen The Cure.

I feel slightly paternal towards some of them, the Curiosa thing [a 2004 Cure-headlined US tour featuring Smith's selection of young bands including Interpol, Mogwai, The Rapture and Muse in support slots] was almost like me saying, 'Come here, my loves.' I felt fucking competitive on that tour, but in a really good way, like, 'Now I'll show you what I can do.'" Smith is rather less paternal, however, towards the stinking, snot-haired, still- a-virgin-at-32, you're-not-a-fucking-vampire-so-grow-up-you-twat bastard child of 'Pornography' that is goth.

"I'm not sure that it did [spring from The Cure's music]," he argues. "When I joined Siouxsie And The Banshees I was aware that I was stepping into a goth band, in that Siouxie was a goth icon. I became a de facto goth icon around that time.

"When I was with the Banshees I made the point of wearing pyjamas - I wore a blue stripey pyjama top. I wanted to make a point I was not part of this world. I used to go drinking with [Banshees songwriter Steve] Severin in the [legendary Soho venue] Batcave around that time and there's nothing more gothic than drinking in the Batcave in 1983 with Steve Severin. But I would be wearing pyjamas.

"When we did the 'Faith' album in 1981, goth hadn't been invented then, we were actually a raincoat band. We were inventing goth with that album and 'Pornography'. but we weren't, we were just playing emotional music. I was feeling a bit desperate at the time, the band as a whole was a bit despairing, we thought it was going to end with 'Pornography'.

The record label had given up on us and the crowds were pretty much non-existent. We went around the world and played to the same 500 people everywhere we went and we couldn't see how we were going to play to more. And we were taking vast amounts of very strong drugs and actually didn't really give a shit. And that, somehow, gave rise to goth."

THE POP IN THEIR POMP

For every 10 'The Drowning Man's, there's a 'Why Can't I Be You?'. For every album of dour 'Disintegration's there's a soothing 'Lovesong'. The Cure have carved their unique niche in modern rock by lacing their lengthy mood pieces with mighty throwaway pop smashes - as they proved by releasing proto-goth masterpiece 'Pornography' one year and 'The Lovecats' the next.

"The pop hits have allowed us to be successful," Smith agrees. "That was always our intention, I suppose, to draw people in and then smother them. There is a small part of what we do that is quite dark in contemporary music terms; it is quite desolate, there is no hope and I love that side of what we do, but I also realise that if that's all we did then we'd be fucking awful. I've always been aware enough to know you've got to sugar the pill a little bit, but not in a banal way.

"I mean, 'Friday, I'm In Love' is not a work of genius, it was almost a calculated song. It's a really good chord progression, I couldn't believe no-one else had used it and I asked so many people at the time - I was getting drug paranoia anyway - 'I must have stolen this from somewhere, I can't possibly have come up with this.' I asked everyone I knew, everyone.

I'd phone people up and sing it and go, 'Have you heard this before? What's it called?' They'd go, 'No, no, I've never heard it.' On the same album there were songs which I'd slaved over and I thought at the time were infinitely better, but 'Friday.' is probably the song off the 'Wish' album that's the song."

GROWING OLD DISGRACEFULLY

Ask anyone who's hung out with Robert Smith and they'll tell you the most amazing thing about him is that he goes to the pub like that. The hair might be laced with streaks of grey and the cheeks somewhat chubbier than in his 'Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me' prime, but Smith's iconic image - recreated everywhere from Camden's Devonshire Arms to South Park - has weathered the changing of many a fashion season.

"I hide behind what I look like with the make-up and the hair," Smith admits. "I know I do, I'm self-aware enough to know why I'm still doing it. It's uncomfortable on the very few forays into real life that I have, getting petrol and shopping, but I've had it my entire life. I'm with a girl who likes the way I look and when I don't look like I look she doesn't like me as much, it's that simple. When we started to get well-known I was saying that if I looked like Ronald McDonald that would be the goth look. I imagine an alternate reality where Ronald McDonald was the goth icon."

THE SECRET EXCESSES

While never being classed as a 'drug band', The Cure have managed to keep their inner Primal Scream reasonably well hidden over the past few decades. While ex-drummer/keyboard player Lol Tolhurst was famously pissed for most of the '80s (until they sacked him), Smith himself famously wrote 'Disintegration' on a pretty huge amount of LSD.

"I used to play tennis with myself," he guffaws. " I used to take off my clothes and play tennis with myself at night in the dark. I'd hit the ball and then run to the other side of the court and play it back. Of course, there wasn't a ball; there was a racket though, it was very important that I was holding a tennis racket. Someone would always wander over when the sun was coming up and say, 'You all right?' 'Yeah, I'm fine, I'm two sets down and it's a love serve!'

"We've been fantastically excessive at certain times. There's a mentality when you go, 'Oh fuck, free beer?' It's your first Reading festival in 1978 and Lemmy's coming out of Motˆrhead's caravan going, 'Howwaarryeeerr?' We went, 'I think he's saying, "Come into our caravan"' and we went in and there was a line of amphetamine sulphate that went the entire length of the caravan. He went, 'Haaaavebitofthaaa.' We were like, 'What's he saying?' He was offering us this straw. 'I think this is like a five-foot line of speed and this straw means we're supposed to snort it.'"

STILL RELEVANT AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

Premiered in its entirety at a gig in Rome a few weeks ago, The Cure's new album '4:13 Dream' is a staggering return to form. Following on from 2000's dolorous 'Bloodflowers' (the climax to The Cure's emotionally bleak 'trilogy' that began with 'Pornography' and 'Disintegration') and the eclectic but patchy 'The Cure' from 2004, it's hawked as the 'light' half of a double album, with the 'dark' half to come in 2009 ("Universal didn't want a double album," Smith fumes) and is the most surprising, rejuvenated and tuneful Cure record since their early-'90s commercial peak. It takes in traditional Cure doomscapes ('Underneath The Stars'), brutal industrial eviscerations ('The Scream', which finds Smith howling like a Saw V victim), classic Cure-pop ('The Only One') and a jaunty shimmer of a song with lyrics taken from a real-life suicide note that Smith was sent in 1987 ('The Reasons Why' - "I knew the person who sent me the letter. It was a genuine suicide. They would be my age").

"I love the way this album goes through the first five songs," Robert enthuses, twitching excitedly in his seat, "because it goes from you thinking, 'Oh right, here we go, it's six minutes and it's really downbeat' and then it jumps into a classic Cure pop song and then suicide is in the first line of the next one and then it goes into 'Freakshow' which, for me, is the weirdest song on the album, and then into 'Sirensong', which is an acoustic waltz with slide guitar. Those five songs set you up so you don't actually know what's going to come next." As new album, so band. If the twists, squirms and wriggles in The Cure's career have proved anything besides their undoubted Godlike Genius it's that - pyjama-clad goth, upbeat Samaritan or nude Tim Henman - you never quite know which Robert Smith you're going to get next.

Interview courtesy of NME magazine

Robert Robert !

Merci Le Chien ! Je vais lire ça ce soir

Dis Imagho, tu veux bien laisser tes impressions sur cet article
2ème fois que je veux le dire, mais il y a trop de mots qui m'échappent ... le matin c'est toujours un peu plus difficile.

Faut que je me trouve un bon dictionnaire sur le net moi !

Je ne suis pas très calé en anglais non plus

Ce qui m'intéressait le plus c'est ce que pouvait dire Robert au sujet du dernier album. Malheureusement ce n'est abordé qu'à la fin et rapidement.
Je retiens ce que dit Robert au sujet des paroles de The Reasons Why (tirées d'une lettre que Robert a reçue...) et puis ce qu'il dit sur sa façon de voir les cinq premiers morceaux (qui nous plongent dans un état où on ne peut plus savoir à quoi s'attendre pour la suite). Cela me rappelle Wild Mood Swings (ce qui, pour moi au moins, est une bonne nouvelle).

Sinon j'aime bien l'anecdote sur Friday I'm In Love, la façon que Robert a eu de demander à tout le monde de lui confirmer que cette mélodie ne pouvait pas être nouvelle ! Cela en dit beaucoup sur sa façon d'envisager sa musique.

Moi aussi, cette anecdote sur Friday m'a bien plu !

Sinon, comme toi, Imagho, je suis un peu déçu que Robert ne parle pas davantage de l'album. Malheureusement, les journalistes ont un peu la même tendance que Robert (et que ses fans, d'ailleurs, dont je suis) à beaucoup se retourner sur le passé et à ne pas assumer entièrement la nouveauté.

Je me souviens qu'à l'époque de Kiss me, dans certaines interviews, Robert détaillait l'album quasiment chanson par chanson ; c'est peut-être ce qui manque un peu, depuis quelques albums, pour en avoir un éclairage un peu différent. Je suis sûr que s'il dévoilait (un peu) plus sur les chansons, je pourrais accrocher davantage à certaines d'entre elles, simplement parce que je ne les avais pas envisagées sous cet angle...

Following on from this week's (October 27) NME magazine cover feature on The Cure,
here's more exclusive content from Robert Smith's only interview of 2008.

To see the rest of the in-depth feature and interview, grab the new issue of NME, on sale now.

continued...

How do you feel about being declared Godlike Genius?

"I've probably gone through a curve where at one point I would have given a much more po-faced answer about the nature of genius, it's discovering something that no one has ever discovered before and having the mental capacity to see things in an entirely different light. I still deep down believe that but I think in music if you can create something that's very simple that sticks with someone else and it emotionally moves them it's genius in its own way. Few people manage to do it. Lots and lots and lots of people try but very few people manage to do it.”

Have there been any moment when you’ve thought you’ve written something of true genius?

"Anyone who thinks they're creating art for consumption has no idea of its worth. I've had this argument most notably with David Bowie actually. When I very first met him to do an interview with XFM the conversation turned around to art and its meaning culturally, and he believed that art was solely determined by the consumer and in fact anything could be art. It was a very modern art approach to art. This was way back in '94 or something like that. I was drinking and I was enraged by this idea. I still think it's totally wrong. As an artist you invest the meaning into your work. Whether anyone else gets it is fucking immaterial. For me, what I do, I don't care about what happens to it after that, I still don't, I never have. But I've always realised that it's validated by the experience of other people in as much as it becomes bigger than itself by the fact that other people want it, but it still retains its quality for me in what's gone into it and how I feel about it. There are songs that we've done that I think are great songs that probably other people don't, but it doesn't upset me. Probably when I was younger I'd have been like 'Why doesn't anyone get what I get? Why are they listening to 'Friday…' and not listening to 'End'?'."

How will the Big Gig compare to your usual shows?

“When The Cure play now we often play up to three hours and we play pretty much everything. We're throwing in songs and you don't know whether they’re gonna like it or not, but it doesn't really matter because there's another 27 songs to follow so it's not crucial to the way the show is going to go. We'll do the same kind of thing, we’ll reflect what we've done over the years. On the 4 Tour I think we’ve played 83 or 84 songs so far and it hasn't ended yet. I was trying to get it up to a hundred. Our repertoire is 100 songs, we know 100 songs, we probably know more actually now that Porl's back, because he knows a lot of stuff that we haven't played for a while. But as a band I always want a cool song list to be around about 100, which is taxing. I remember reading something about James Brown when I was young and how he was such a bastard to his band and I was thinking that’s fucking great, of course the band should know 100 songs. If you’ve got 100 songs why shouldn't you know them? That's what you do.”

How do you feel when younger bands namecheck you as an influence?

“There are some bands I suppose that namecheck The Cure and I think ‘Please don't’. Who am I proud of? Mogwai have been my favourite band for a long time, and when I first spoke to Stuart (Braithwaite) and he's gone ‘I love what you do as well’, that the acknowledgement from someone who you yourself admire that has nothing to do with how much I've done or how old I am or anything. If you just said ‘Thanks, but your band’s shit’ it would have been one of the few times that criticism would have hurt me. If someone who you admire says that what you're doing is rubbish it does hurt. It's nice when you hear something and you think ‘Wow, they like what we do’. When we did the MTV Icons show a few years back I was really surprised, they put a film together and we didn't know anything about it and the breadth of people on that clip who were up on the screen, people like Kirk (Hammett) from Metallica saying that they love The Cure, we were sitting there thinking 'Is this somehow ironic, are we missing the point?' Loads of people I had no idea liked us suddenly stepped forward. But why should I be surprised? I like lots and lots of different things, and I'd be quite happy to step forward for a lot of people and say what they do is great, it doesn't have to sound anything like us. So I suppose it's a conditioning, you think 'How can a rap artist possibly step forward and say they like The Cure?', but a lot of them do.”

You've steadfastly refused to change your look over the years.

“When I was younger I didn't mind as much shaving of the hair, which I did a couple of times. I remember the first time I did it publicly was when we did the film 'The Cure In Orange' in 1986, which at the time was a huge story because I’d just taken away the one thing we had. I was just becoming known for the way I looked and Tim Pope, who had done a lot of our videos up to that point, was making the film, it was his first big shoot with 10 cameras and I turned up and I had shaved my head the day before, and I turn up in a wig. We met in a bar and he kind of knew but went with it. He looked at me and said ‘What we going to do?’ So we came up with the beginning of the film which is me about to walk on stage and I pull the wig off and throw it to one side. We were the band with no image and then suddenly we were the band with the best image you’d ever seen and then ‘My God he's just thrown it away’. I don't want to be known for the way I look. When we started out I refused to have a picture anywhere. We didn't have our pictures taken in the early days, it was a reaction against even the punk thing, which was supposedly against anything else, they were still generating iconic figures. I thought 'It's fucked, the whole thing’. I don't want to be anyone. We were just kids from Crawley. It was a slight paradox because I don't like anyone, I don’t want anything to do with anyone, but we're doing this so I need to connect with other people who also don't want anything to do with anyone. It's one of those young things where you don't think too much about the paradox but you kind of know what you're getting at. The alienation of it, you're trying to reach out to other people who feel alienated.”

Do you still get many Robert Smith clones hanging about?

“Less often nowadays. But at the most recent thing in Rome there an extraordinary amount of Robert Smith-alikes, much more than there have been in the last few years. This might be a worrying resurgence of them. Every summer they come round to where I live and there's a regular stream of people. I live on the beach just outside of Brighton - I don't live on the beach, my house backs onto the beach, of all the places I could fucking live and be private! 'What are you doing on my beach?' And they all turn up and they all make sure they look like the archetype, but there’s less and less of them. There was resurgence this year in America - I noticed that some of the shows of younger boys and girls starting to dress up a bit. It's nice, I like it, I've never thought of it as them wanting to look like me, it's always that representation.”

You've recently allowed your music to be used in advertising in America after years of refusal – why?

“Anyone who knows The Cure knows that the only reason I had to agree to those adverts was because we were about to be out of contract with Polydor and I had to. If I was going to retain control over our back catalogue my trade-off was giving the one song to use for an advert with no vocals, that was it, so we gave them 'In Between Days' for Punto and Fiat and 'Pictures Of You' for HP in America. There was no singing and no-one knew it was us, and that was fine. There was no campaign around it, nothing came off of it, we didn't re-release ‘In Between Days’. I'm so against music in adverts, it fucking killed me even agreeing to that, but it was the only way. The money generated from those adverts went into buying me control on our back catalogue, otherwise it would have been like mortgaging the band. It sounds cynical, and it was at the time, but I suppose if I'm being really honest my ear was bent a little bit by a younger generation saying no one cares, no one cares, everyone does it, it doesn't matter any more, you're living in the past. Now I read that if you advertise this or use your music for that or you’re advertising the iPhone that's fine because everybody does it, but it's not, I still don't think it is, I think it is wrong.”

The Cure are almost unique in being a deeply emotional band with a shameless pop edge – how did that combination come about?

“I knew every word to every Beatles song and every Rolling Stones song through the '60s, and Captain Beefheart and Cream. This was what was blasting out when I was pretending to be going to sleep. So when I started with a group and thought ‘We’re gonna start writing our own songs’ I didn’t want to be a punk band, I wanted to be a band that encompassed all the stuff that I thought was good. If I had a song and thought 'I want to sound like Nick Drake on this song' I didn’t think ‘Well, is that right?’ because Nick Drake was what made me feel a certain way so if I could get that into a song… When we started my favourite punk bands were the bands that made the more accessible, melodic music. I wanted the band to always have a dimension to it that was not to do with the modern world. So the emotional stuff and the pop stuff always went hand in hand, I never saw any problem with it. The Beatles are a good example. They progressed into it, but once they did they didn’t have an either/or. They had both. They had the best tunes, but also the most outrageously experimental psychedelic stuff that you could imagine. They were it. Captain Beefheart’s ‘Safe As Milk’, I used to love the way it used stereo and the way it went across in headphones, the phase stuff, I’d listen to it over and over again. And Hendrix, the same thing – ‘Axis: Bold As Love’ has got some great pop songs on it, but essentially it’s a psychedelic guitar album that you listen to from beginning to end and think you’d love to be in that world, I’d love to be Jimi Hendrix. All these things combined, for me there was never a problem between ‘Do you want to be a dark band or do you want to be a pop band?’ We kind of went on our own way depending on how I felt.”

Didn’t you have a run-in with Morrissey back in the '80s?

“Unfortunately he was asked a question about people called Smith. It was me, Patti Smith and someone else called Smith who was famous at that time, who he would shoot. One would have expected at the time, him being a non-meat eating vegetarian pacifistic sort of guy, to say ‘I choose to shoot myself’ or ‘I choose to shoot no-one’ but he said ‘I’d line them all up and I’d shoot them all’. When I was told that at the time I kind of took umbrage, ‘That’s fucking nice, cunt’. I felt it was a bit unnecessary. I’d never said or done anything. So that engendered one of those tedious feuds. I’ve never met him, I’m not even sure we’ve been in the same room. I’m sure it’s the same for him, he got really aggravated at my response. I was very over the top but I felt justifiably so, having just been shot in print. It was one of those things, a mini Blur/Oasis thing. I don’t think I played along with it enough for it to become anything more. It kind of got resurrected from time to time, I think on his fansite it got reinvigorated and there have been various attempts to reignite it, but I think he’s actually said something really nice about us recently, about the fact that I’m a little bit wayward. Honestly I’ve never really had a problem. I felt it was unfair that he would shoot me. If you asked him again he might choose to shoot himself rather than me and Auntie Patti and whoever else it was.”

Did you ever have any bad trips while taking all that LSD to write 'Disintegration'?

“No, actually, I have never had a bad trip, never. It does set you off though, you take other drugs at the wrong time at the wrong moment and it does set me off again. Some of my younger nephews and nieces say ‘Come on uncle Robert, have a bit of this’. And I'm like ‘Oh yeah, alright’ and then I’m like ‘Fuck!’ I'm sitting there an hour later and they’re going ‘Are you alright?’ ‘What?’”

Ben finalement en prenant le temps pour le lire, il y a 3 jours, j'ai capté le principal.
Et maintenant, voilà une troisième partie qui à première vue ne semble pas nous donner davantage de détail sur le nouvel album.
C'est les journalistes du new musical express qui sont un peu difficile à comprendre, ils utilisent des mots que je ne connais pas du tout lol.
Pour cette 3ème partie, c'est Robert qui répond à des questions, ça sera plus simple.


Concernant Sleep When I'm Dead, j'ai lu dans le télémoustique (revue télé en Belgique) qu'elle a été composée à "l'époque de The Head On The Door" !

Comme quoi the Cure est devenu intemporel.

Jvais lire cette troisième partie demain... là pas le courage

Merci Amu pour l'info de Sleep when I'm dead!

Merci encore, Le Chien !

PHIL THORNALLEY
www.philthornalley.com

when we were young....
Monday, April 28, 2008, 09:34 AM

just to prove i was skinny once here's a cure tour '84 photo.



that's me on the left.



this was the ill fated '3 drummers' tour.(spinal tap'esque)



andy anderson became ill in japan and we picked up ex-psychedelic furs drummer vince ely(he's on the right).after two weeks vince (who i really enjoyed playing with) had had enough and wanted to return to LA and to his career as a producer.

then i called ex-thompson twins drummer boris and he became a cure fixture for the next ten years.(i don't remember him saying thanks either).



there were no bizarre gardening 'accidents'involved.



by the end of the tour my time had come too.i had made a vain attempt to add some disco bass lines to 'let's go to bed' and 'the walk'.sort of boz scaggs/bee gee'ish stuff.suicide by bassline.



my last gig with the band was at the beacon theatre in nyc in november '84.



and i was never this skinny again.hey ho.

Surprise !!!!

Jason fait de la musique de films !!!!

http://www.fromwithinmovie.com/#/atf.film_makers/know/jason/


Allez voir !!!!

No Cure without pain, says Robert Smith

Keeping his band alive for so long has been a hard slog for Robert Smith,
he explains to our correspondent

Mark Beaumont

Robert Smith thinks that the band’s over “every time we make an album”. He grins his tiny, wicked, scarlet-swathed grin, looking for all the world like a cuddlier version of Heath Ledger’s Joker. “Seriously, I do. With The Cure [in 2004], I called it that knowing that that was it.”

Despite their 30 years as alternative rock legends; despite as many millions of albums sold; despite the 13 studio albums and stadium gigs across the globe; despite being about to be declared a Godlike Genius at the NME Shockwaves Awards on Wednesday and playing the huge Big Gig at the O2 Arena the following day, the Cure are the most unstable band in rock. Bar the Fall, obviously.

They’re a rocking recession of a band: their future hangs constantly in the balance, each release may be their last, no member’s job is entirely safe. And as the sole remaining original member, Smith, a man recognisable from three miles away in the thickest of blizzards, is the Cure’s icon, helmsman and executioner.

His axe has swung many times over the ever-shifting Cure line-up since 1980, and as their celebrated Curiosa Festival tour of America wound to a close in 2004 he sharpened his blade once again for the necks of the band’s long-term guitarists Roger O’Donnell and Perry Bamonte. “I knew that was it for Roger and Perry,” he says. “I didn’t spend more than five minutes with either of them on that tour apart from when we were onstage. When it’s gone, it’s gone. I told them both that I wanted to try something with Simon [Gallup, bassist] and Jason [Cooper, drums] and I’d let them know how it went. I felt that was the fairest way of doing it because I thought if it doesn’t work with Simon and Jason then the group will be over. The thing drifts apart. The bigger the group gets the harder it is to hold it together.”

It was a less acrimonious split than that in 1989 with the Cure’s former drummer, founding member and chronic booze-hound Lol Tolhurst, who unsuccessfully sued Smith for unpaid royalties five years later.

Smith giggles ruefully. “The funniest thing about him taking us to court, or taking me to court in particular, was that he couldn’t actually remember all the things that would’ve won him the case at a f***ing stroke. I almost felt obliged morally to stand up and say: ‘Lol, don’t you remember the time that . . .’

“The worst thing we did to Lol was when me and Simon stripped him on the bus. We were pulling up to a hotel in Chicago, it was about five in the morning, we’re saying: ‘We’re going to a health club, Lol, we’re all gonna get a rub-down’. ‘Awloveeelovegreat.’ ‘We’re going to strip now and it’s straight out of the bus door, straight into a hot tub.’ He’s like: ‘Riiightoootherewaaghh’. So we pretend to take our trousers off and he actually takes his trousers off and his pants and at the bottom of the hotel steps there’s a porter with one of those luggage things with wheels. So we put Lol on it and go: ‘Into the hot tub!’ and we push him through reception of the Chicago Hilton. Simon rolls Lol into the lift and goes, ‘You f***ing idiot’ and the lift doors close.”

For 18 months between 2004 and 2006 the Cure teetered on the brink of extinction. Smith, unsure if he ever wanted to make music with a band again, stripped the line-up to a three-piece. Then, finding his muse revived, he re-recruited the early Cure guitarist (and his brother-in-law) Porl Thompson and holed up in Olympic Studios in London for the summer of 2006 to demo a song a day. It was a seemingly impossible task for a band whose moodier songs have been known to take several weeks, but they emerged with 33 songs completed, 13 of which made up, last October, the upbeat and experimental return to form, 4:13 Dream. Most of the rest will form the second, “dark”, half to that record’s lightness. Smith hopes to release it this year.

“It’s the companion piece, the nightmare piece to the dream thing,” he explains. “4:13 Dream ends on a dark minor chord and I feel like there’s an intermission and everyone goes out and goes: ‘Ooh, I wonder what’s going to happen next.’ The next one picks up where the last one ended.”

Smith is a sharp musical observer, constantly questioning his own motives and those of the society around him. He didn’t watch Barack Obama’s inauguration because “it was almost an attempt, because of the current climate, to gee people up. There’s so much manipulation that I feel slightly wary. I just hope he comes through with even half of what he promises.”

He’s intensely critical of his own label’s reluctance to let him put out the Olympic songs as a double set and plain livid when it comes to the download revolution. “It’s staggering the percentage of illegal downloads,” he says. “It’s almost silly in a tragic way. There’s a strange reluctance on the part of the majors [to tackle the issue]. Their artists suffer hugely from illegal downloading: they don’t sell legal units so the label doesn’t really have to pay them. But the label is owned by a parent company some way down the chain that owns the internet service provider. That side of it is very murky.

“The Radiohead experiment of paying what you want — I disagreed violently with that. You can’t allow other people to put a price on what you do, otherwise you don’t consider what you do to have any value at all, and that’s nonsense. If I put a value on my music and no one’s prepared to pay that, then more fool me, but the idea that the value is created by the consumer is an idiot plan, it can’t work.”

Though softly spoken and giggly, Smith displays signs of being the oldest Angry Young Man in music (he will be 50 in April). And who can blame him: he’s credited with inventing a goth scene that he constantly disowns (“Most goth kids look really cool; I think those people would be horrified by the idea of us representing them”), is criticised for retaining his spider hair and make-up well into middle age (“The idea of growing old gracefully is immaterial. I look at myself and I’m kind of on the cusp at the moment. But I’m hanging in there”) and has been the focus of blame for some of his fans’ most violent extremes.

“I’ve been in the unfortunate position of having someone kill themselves onstage just prior to us going on,” he recalls with a shudder. “It was hugely disturbing. We were playing the Kiss Me set [1987-88] and it was an upbeat kind of night, but there was an emotional depth to the stage show that was put in perspective when that happened.

“It’s happened to us a few times. A policeman blew his brains out at the show in Czechoslovakia on that tour and on the Bloodflowers tour [200-2001] someone killed himself. It’s the ultimate theatre I suppose. It’s very difficult to sit on your own thinking about it, let alone get into the kind of mentality to do that public a thing.”

One suicide note sent to him by a fan was made into the lyrics of 4:13 Dream’s deceptively poppy The Reasons Why, including the line: “I won’t try to bring you down about my suicide/ If you promise not to sing about the reasons why.”

With weights like these on his shoulders, it’s no wonder he envisions a brighter retirement. “I have this golden age ahead of me,” he says with a grin. “I imagine I’m at some point going to be lighting a barbecue and kicking back in a deck chair. It will come. My goal when I turned 40 was to get to 50, when the 30th anniversary of the band would happen. That’s my year zero if you like, passing through to the other side.

“We’re doing this DVD History of . . ., going through everything I’ve taped and photographed during the 30 years. It’s like being a drowning man at times, watching this stuff. It’s terrifying how fast life goes.”

And with Smith’s current contract complete with his next album, might it be the Cure’s last? He ponders. “I may have another go at completing my solo album this year. It’s been about ten years since I last tried to finish it. Every time I turn a big-number birthday I look to my solo album, dust off the box, lift out the old cassette tapes. It’s more of an autobiographical growing-up thing.”

He sniggers, still racked with the instability of a teenager. He considers his solo album, his legendary band, his darkly glittering life.

“Maybe I’m scared to finish it.”



30 years of hairspray: the Cure story

1976-77
The first incarnation of the band, the Obelisk, is formed by students of Notre Dame Middle School in Crawley, Sussex, with Robert Smith on piano. They change their name to the equally ominous Malice and, the following year, to the slightly sunnier Easy Cure, with Smith providing strangulated lead vocals for the first time.

1978-79
Losing the Easy, the Cure release their debut single, Killing an Arab. They deny accusations of racism, insisting it was inspired by the Albert Camus’ L’Etranger. The following year they release their debut album, Three Imaginary Boys, and support Siouxsie and the Banshees on tour. The guitarist Mick Demsey leaves the band. He won’t be the only one.

1980-82
A trio of what one critic calls “oppressively disprited” albums — 17 Seconds, Faith and Pornography — establish the band as the masters of the guitar dirge.

1983-85
Pursuing a poppier, more snyth-driven direction, they enjoy mainstream success with singles such as The Lovecats (1983) and Close to Me (1985).

1987
The sublimely melodic Just Like Heaven becomes their US first Top 40 hit.

1989-92
Rediscovering their dark side without losing their commercial touch, they release the nightmarish Disintegration LP (1989), which sells more then three million copies worldwide. Lol Tolhurst leaves the band in 1989 and takes Smith to court for unpaid royalties, losing the case in 1994. Despite the disruption of the Tolhurst case, they win a Brit award for Best British Band and in 1992 release one of their most successful albums, Wish.

1996
Emerging with yet another reshuffled line-up, they release the disapppointing Wild Mood Swings (1996) and the rather better Bloodflowers (2000) , which is nominated for a Grammy.

2003- 04
The Cure makes the Top Ten on both side sof the Atlantic in 2003 and they headline the Coachella festival in Calfornia the same year. In 2004, they tour America with Smith favourites Interpol, Mogwai and the Rapture.

2005 - 2008
In 2005 Roger O’Donnell and Perry Bamonte become the most recent casualties, fired after the best part of two decades with the band. The remaining members play Live 8 in Paris and release thier thirteenth studio album, 4:13 Dream, in 2008.

2009
Win NME’s Godlike Genius award.

— The Cure play the O2 Arena, London SE10 (0844 8560202), on Wednesday