Let’s play a game of name association. What’s the first name to pop into your head?

(1) Grunge
Did you think of Kurt Cobain or Nirvana? Or the entire Seattle music scene. Maybe you have visions of Sub Pop, or Pearl Jam, or flannel.

(2) Punk
Was it Johnny Rotten? Joey Ramone? Joe Strummer?

(3) Heavy Metal
Pantera? Metallica? Megadeath? Judas Priest? Black Sabbath?

(4) British Invasion
Which of the Big Four did you pick; The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Kinks or The Who?

(5) Rap
There is no way to narrow down whom you might have thought of. Parody is an evil thing. There isn’t a clear answer. In fact, many of these artists blur into one another. Despite the celebrity of most of these acts, and the familiarity we have with the genres, there is no true front-runner or flagship for the sound’s identity.

The opposite can be said for Robert Smith. How would you describe The Cure? (Aside from calling them the greatest band of the last 25 years?)

New Wave?
Yes, they did come about at the end of the 1970s and cut their best work in the mid 1980s. And yes, they did/do tease out their hair with obscene amounts of Aquanet. But the band lacked the bright-eyed, synthetic happiness and the disposable hit-or-miss nature derivative of new wave.
Goth?
Okay, Smith has worn black seemingly for his entire life — along with eyeliner and lipstick. But the irony is that a band deified with candles and love poems, has never recorded a single “goth” song. Plush harmonies, acoustic guitars and live drums are hardly dark and evil.

Instead of a genre mustering up images of The Cure, it’s the opposite. Mentioning The Cure brings about an aura and an atmosphere unlike any in contemporary music.
More so than any other performer of our time, Robert Smith carries a presence that transcends his music. In fact, the intangible Robert Smith means more to people than his work currently does.

Like John Lennon once was to Beatles’ fans, Smith has managed to remove himself from his music and stand alone as an image of importance. Yet, unlike Lennon who distanced himself from his music, Smith has kept it his first priority.

The reasoning is simple: Robert Smith’s greatest commodity is Robert Smith. Occasionally self-indulgent (i.e. the numerous box sets, singles collections and greatest hits), he is able to stay true to the legions of fans that hang on his every breathy vocal.  The overly romantic — yet somehow thoroughly genuine — frontman extraordinaire has kept his credibility for nearly three decades.

This isn’t an easy thing to do. Especially considering The Cure rivals The Beatles and U2 in sheer numbers of issued collectables. His most recent release, his band’s self-titled album, is accompanied with a “making of” video. It’s truly pointless, other than that it stars Smith. Such can salvage even the most mundane output.

From the first heart-wrenching moments of “Boys Don’t Cry” (one of history’s saddest songs) through the brilliance of “Wish” and “Disintegration,” Smith has been nothing short of the center of attention.

Forever endearing (especially the public-doting of his wife), Smith will be eternally hip.

“Everything you do is simply delicate/Everything you do is quite angelicate/Why can’t I be you?” — Robert Smith, “Why Can’t I Be You”

Northern Star Online, Oct. 22, 2004