That title is an old cliche I always fall back on when talking about The Cure, but it makes me chuckle every time.  I even had the T-shirt,  faded and nubby from a myriad of washes and adorned way too many times during my hopelessly punk/nerd days.

The Cure were, and still are, I imagine, an acquired taste. The dreamy dirgy works of frontman Roger Smith aren’t for everyone.  And at times, the music could be detrimental to the fragile psyche of a moody teen.

At any rate, with the announcement of a new tour at hand, it seemed only right to play some old favorites and commiserate on the fact that somehow for a variety of reasons I have not managed to see The Cure live.  Strange days indeed.