Sunday - June 22, 2008

 Cured

When The Cure canceled their tour last fall, I was disappointed, but not crushed.   After all, the crush faded years ago, who has the time for band-chasing when you're working and raising a family?  

Although with the indulgence of my DH I manage to remain a "fan" with a huge collection of albums, rarities and even a couple movies.  I even caught the South Park episode that declared "Disintegration is the best album ever" (thus launching a whole new generation of fans). 

But no more hovering in forums and fansites, following every newsbite and anxiously anticipating each album release, filling with frustration at every inevitable delay... grasping each and every song the minute it comes available... and playing it over and over and over again.  

Somehow, as rabidly as the past few years steamrolled over my life, The Cure slowly sank deeper into  into the cracks of the couch.  An occasional tune surfaced here and there, pleading an excavation, an extravagant reunion.  Later, I promise...

My kids will tell you - "later" never comes.  Always the speed demon, TIME holds me on a tight line and I can't seem to spit out the hook!

Eventually, my Cure moods waned beyond recognition and thus beyond repair - leaving my funks increasingly gray and lonely and despondent.  I would grab the nearest CD, hoping for a cure... scoring an occasional burst of joy, but the real cure remained elusive.

Finally last night we went to the concert on the rescheduled tour.  The very last concert of the tour, actually, at Radio City Music Hall.  And I'm so glad I went (and stayed for all three encores), despite that poor DH got a pounding headache and had to leave halfway through.  For me, it was 3 hours of pure cathartic bliss.

They rocked.  Radio City Music halled seethed with fans of all ages and persuasions.  Surprisingly, thirty-plus years (!) have sharpened the band, expanded their range and intensity.  I would never have guessed Robert Smith had such staying power... to give so much intense raw emotion for so many years.  

Although I enjoyed the new songs more than I had hoped for, the old songs surprised me even more; after years of neglect they still stirred my emotions as intensely as ever.  Occasionally, my body would recognize a song after a few chords and react before my brain came up with titles or lyrics.  Goosebumps would rise on my skin, my eyes would start to tear, I'd wet my pants, whatever... very intense.  

Memories wrenched themselves from tight places, knots in my brain unbound themselves, logic and order surrendered.  

Ahhh, exhilaration, what a great feeling.  I really should spit out that hook more often.