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5.20.2008Sounds Like a F*#$%ing Sore Throat, Bob
 After seeing Radiohead last Wednesday and The Cure last night, I can openly admit I'm old. Where Radiohead was a good mix of 18-50 year-olds, The Cure was 35+ with kids. It's funny and sad to compare how five 35-40 year-old men enjoy a concert. One brings his daughter and embarrasses the hell out of her by pumping his fist and dancing during Hot, Hot, Hot. The second brings his kids and explains that "this music changed my life as a teenager" and "what you're smelling is marijuana." The third leaves the kids at home and wears the old goth clothes that don't quite fit like they did back in high school. The fourth throws up on his twenty year-old date after smoking pot for the first time in fifteen years. And the fifth wears the same old black Dickies work shirt (or t-shirt) that he wears to every concert with the hope that he hasn't gotten too old to fade into the background amongst the younger concert-goers (this last one is me, if you couldn't guess).The Cure: Starlight Theater 5/19/08 The Cure is Twisted Wife's absolute favorite band. If her iPod could only play one band, it would be The Cure. I could tell a little part of her died when 311 covered Lovesong. When the band threatened to make Bloodflowers their final album, I thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown. I would bet that she can name every member of the band since 1978. She is a superfan. So, going to The Cure concert with her is weird. It's like going to a sporting event with the guy who wears face paint. You can bet she will sing every song and give dirty looks to those around her that try to talk on their cell phones over the music. So, it was even more strange when TW agreed to four of our friends joining us for the show. Not just any friends, mind you, but former Twistedjim.com contributors, Tyson and Scott, and their wives. Sure, Tyson's wife is a fan from back in the day and Scott's wife likes to go to concerts, although she prefers Phil Collins (Sorry, Stephie). Honestly, I thought this might hinder TW's enjoyment of the show. Turns out, I didn't know TW as well as I thought. With six of us going to the show, there were driving arrangements to be made. TW and I ended up driving Tyson and his wife while Scott and his lady met us at the show. Before anyone could go, we had to drop off Scott's tickets. Of course, I did this all wrong. I took the tickets to the door. And, like a drug deal, I handed Scott the tickets and he handed me some money. A quick, "see you at the show" was all we needed. By the time I got back to the car, TW needed information. Since I didn't get any, she had to go up to the door, which led to ten minutes of talking between TW and Scott's wife. Yep, it was awesome, and so much more efficient than Scott and mine's method. Fortunately, we got to the show just in time to talk to all the people we haven't seen in years long enough to completely miss the opener. That's right, I can't even tell you their name, which is probably better for them, really. We talked just long enough to almost miss The Cure's first song, but not long enough to miss getting another round of $7.00 beers. One of the people we ran into let us know that Robert Smith had a cold or something that he caught in Chicago and was going to sound terrible. I looked at TW. Thankfully, she shrugged and said, "who cares." What? Who cares? This was my first inkling that TW had an evil twin. I kept looking at her hoping I would notice the one difference between her and the real TW. I settled on the fact that maybe the concession stand lady slipped something in TW's beer and headed off to our seats. If nothing else, this would put her in a good mood for the show and we could discuss what she did with my real wife on our way home. The first song ended as we got to our seats, and Robert Smith mumbled something followed by his first of fifty apologies for his voice for the evening. I couldn't really tell anything was wrong until they finally played a song I knew. That song was Lovesong. And, although it was played correctly unlike the 311 version, the lyrics sounded like shit. I knew I should have felt some compassion, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I was disappointed. I'd seen The Cure before and expected more. Plus, I was paying to see someone do their job halfway, which pisses me off. It's like going to a show where the lead singer holds the mic out to the crowd expecting them to sing the songs for him. It was crap. I will stop right now and say that TW and I saw two completely different shows. She saw her favorite band playing their hearts out through adversity. I saw a great band playing a mediocre show. However, I know I am in the minority on this point of view. The good news is that a mediocre show for The Cure is still head and shoulders above most band's best shows. I enjoyed watching them play extended solos, cut verses and apologize at every turn for the problem. It made Robert Smith, a god to some of the people in the audience, very human. And for that I will give them an extra Rock Fingers. But I won't completely let them off the hook. And although TW had a great time seeing her favorite band, I'm the one handing out the reviews and I couldn't make this show measure up to The Cure I've seen in the past. Maybe they were just wearing their same old black shirts and hoping that they haven't gotten too old to fade into the background of their careers. 
posted by Jim at 7:34 AM
2 Comments: Scott Allen said...
"what you're smelling is marijuana." said...
i'm on the "this sucks" side of the coin. I hope his "next time it will be better" means they're coming back after the new album comes out. good seeing you btw. |
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