For a band so synonymous with teenage angst it’s hard to imagine that The Cure could handle such a monster of a venue as SSE Arena for three nights. I should never have doubted the cult heroes. Performing with zeal often lost along the path to becoming a generation defining band, Robert Smith and co-delivered over thirty songs to the mass of adoring fans.

I have to confess, I missed the initial part of the show; travelling from Leeds to London meant arriving late. However, I was still treated to around twenty perfectly executed ballads which spanned the group’s lengthy career. Where most older bands are resting on their laurels, raking in the profits from royalties or half-heartedly gigging for the money, it’s clear The Cure are a different breed.

Still brimming with vigor, Robert Smith’s voice has aged like a fine wine rather than going flat like an open beer. Truly, he didn’t miss a note and the rest of the band were just as audibly impressive. The bassist and guitarist were insistent on playing back to back in the most eighties of power stances which was somewhat cringe-worthy. But what’s nostalgia without a touch of cringe?

Playing three encores was a bit self-indulgent and by the last one the middle aged crowd had lost much of the initial enthusiasm for cheering. Although, given the expert distribution of hit songs, there wasn’t enough time for the Facebook Live obsessed crowd to get bored.

What The Cure managed to do on an unassuming Friday in December was play one the most perfectly delivered hit heavy sets of any band I’ve seen. True to their own words, it was Friday and I was in love with eighties heart throbs.  

Ben Roberts

Image: NOLA