Robert Smith has this weird, almost frustrating ability to make misery sound like a literal party. You know that feeling. It’s 1985. The sun is out, but you’re stuck inside feeling sorry for yourself because someone didn’t call. Then that bright, acoustic guitar strum kicks in—the one that opens In Between Days by The Cure—and suddenly your heartbreak has a beat you can actually dance to. It’s iconic. It’s also deeply confusing if you actually listen to what he’s saying.
"Yesterday I got so old, I felt like I could die."
That’s a heavy way to start a pop song. Honestly, it's the quintessential Cure formula: take a devastating realization about aging or loss and wrap it in a melody so infectious it stays stuck in your head for three decades. This track wasn't just another single; it was the moment The Cure stopped being "that weird goth band from Crawley" and started becoming global superstars.
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The Sound of a Band Finding Their Groove
Before 1985, The Cure was in a strange spot. They’d done the dark, oppressive trilogy of Seventeen Seconds, Faith, and Pornography. Robert Smith was exhausted. He was basically living on a diet of alcohol and existential dread. But then came The Head on the Door. This album changed everything.
In Between Days by The Cure was the lead single, and it didn't sound like the funeral dirge people expected. It was snappy. It used a 12-string acoustic guitar that shimmered. If you listen closely to the percussion, Boris Williams—who had just joined the band—brought a crisp, driving energy that they’d been missing. It’s not just a drum beat; it’s a gallop.
Some critics at the time pointed out that it sounded a lot like New Order. Specifically, "Dreams Never End." Smith has actually admitted he was listening to a lot of New Order at the time. He liked that they were using synthesizers and guitars in a way that felt modern but still had soul. He took that influence, filtered it through his own messy hair and smeared lipstick, and created something that felt entirely new.
It’s short. The song is barely under three minutes. In an era of bloated six-minute extended mixes, this was a punch to the gut. It gets in, breaks your heart, and leaves before you’ve even had a chance to wipe your eyes.
That Music Video and the Blur of Color
You can’t talk about this song without mentioning the video. Directed by Tim Pope, it features the band members swinging around on fluorescent ropes. They’re painted in neon colors. It looks like a fever dream in a crayon factory.
Pope once explained that the look of the video was partly because they wanted to move away from the "goth" tag. They wanted color. They wanted movement. Robert Smith’s face is often distorted or shoved right into the camera lens, creating this sense of intimacy and claustrophobia at the same time. It’s goofy, but it works because the song itself is about that dizzying feeling of being caught "in between" emotions.
When you see Smith spinning around, it mirrors the lyrics. The song isn't about being sad, exactly. It’s about the transition. The moment you realize something is over, but you haven't quite moved on yet. You’re in the middle. The "in between."
Why the Lyrics Hit Different When You’re Older
When you’re sixteen, "Yesterday I got so old" sounds like poetic hyperbole. When you’re forty, it sounds like a medical diagnosis. Smith wrote this when he was only twenty-five or twenty-six, which is hilarious in hindsight. But he always had an old soul.
The song deals with the fear of replacement. "Without you, there is no one left to whisper time to." That is such a specific, quiet kind of loneliness. It’s not the screaming-at-the-moon type of grief. It’s the realization that your daily rituals—the small things you say to another person—no longer have a destination.
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Most pop songs of the mid-80s were about "I love you" or "I hate you." The Cure was writing about "I am terrified of how much I need you, and I’m also kind of annoyed that I do." It’s messy. It’s human.
The Technical Brilliance Nobody Mentions
We often focus on Robert’s voice—that signature yelp-whimper—but the arrangement of In Between Days by The Cure is a masterclass in layering.
- The opening acoustic strum provides the rhythmic backbone.
- The synthesizer hook (played on a Roland Juno-60) provides the "earworm" melody.
- The bassline is surprisingly melodic, staying high on the fretboard, which is a classic Simon Gallup move.
- There’s no traditional guitar solo; the melody carries the weight.
They recorded this at Bush Branch Studios in Reading. The producer, David M. Allen, helped the band strip away the murky reverb of their previous albums. They wanted "dry" sounds. They wanted the drums to "smack." If you listen to the snare on this track, it’s got that gated reverb that defined the 80s, but it’s used with restraint. It doesn't sound dated; it sounds iconic.
How to Actually Appreciate the Track Today
If you want to really "get" this song in 2026, don’t just play it on a tinny phone speaker. It’s a song built for headphones. Or better yet, a car ride at dusk.
First, pay attention to the panning. The guitars are spread wide. Second, listen for the breath. You can actually hear Smith inhaling before the lines. It gives it a frantic, desperate quality that counters the upbeat music.
The song has been covered by everyone from Supergrass to Snow Patrol, but nobody quite gets the balance right. Most people play it too fast or too sad. The original works because it’s both. It’s a contradiction.
Making the Most of Your Cure Deep Dive
If this song is your entry point, don't stop here. The "Head on the Door" album is basically a collection of perfect pop songs disguised as alternative rock. "Push" is an incredible instrumental-heavy track that follows a similar vibe, and "A Night Like This" brings back some of that darker atmosphere.
To truly understand the legacy of In Between Days by The Cure, you should check out the live versions from the Show or Paris albums. Seeing Robert Smith perform this in his late 60s adds a whole new layer to the line about getting old. He’s lived the lyrics now.
Your Next Steps for the Perfect Listening Experience:
- Find a high-quality vinyl or FLAC rip. The layering of the acoustic and electric guitars gets muddy on low-bitrate streaming services.
- Watch the "Orange" live performance from 1986. It captures the band at their absolute peak of energy and "don't care" attitude.
- Contrast it with "Lovesong." See how Smith’s songwriting evolved from the "fear of loss" in 1985 to the "security of love" in 1989.
- Check out the B-sides. Tracks like "The Exploding Boy" were recorded around the same time and share that same frantic, jangly DNA.
This song isn't just a relic of the 80s. It’s a blueprint for every "sad-indie-boy" band that followed, from The Smiths to Arcade Fire. It’s proof that you can be miserable and still have the time of your life.