Robert Smith was bored. It’s the only way to explain how a band goes from the pitch-black, suffocating atmosphere of Pornography and the gloom-pop perfection of The Head on the Door to a sprawling, 74-minute double album that starts with a feedback-drenched nightmare and ends with a psychedelic fever dream. The Cure Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me isn't just an album; it’s a massive, messy, and brilliant statement of intent that proved they could do literally anything.
Think about 1987 for a second. The charts were dominated by Whitney Houston, George Michael, and hair metal. Then you have these five guys from Crawley, smeared in lipstick and looking like they hadn’t slept since 1982, dropping a record that sounds like a drug-induced trip through a carnival.
It shouldn't work. Honestly, it really shouldn't.
Most bands would have played it safe after the success of "In Between Days." Instead, Smith took the band to Miraval Studios in the south of France—a place surrounded by vineyards and soaking in sunlight—to record a record that feels intensely claustrophobic one minute and wildly euphoric the next. It’s the sound of a band finally realizing they don't have to be the "goth kings" anymore. They could just be a great rock band. Or a funk band. Or a horn-driven pop act.
The Chaos of the Opening Track
You put the needle down and "The Kiss" starts. It’s almost four minutes of pure, instrumental tension before Robert even opens his mouth. The wah-wah pedal is screaming. The bass is thick and menacing. It’s a total "gatekeeper" track—if you can’t handle the first six minutes of this, the band basically says you aren't invited to the rest of the party.
The lyrics, when they finally arrive, are visceral. It’s about a physical repulsion so strong it hurts. It’s miles away from the "Friday I'm in Love" version of the band that the general public knows. But that’s the beauty of The Cure Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me. It refuses to settle into one mood. It’s erratic. It’s moody. It’s kind of a lot to take in at once.
Why the "Pop" Songs Stand Out
Then you get "Just Like Heaven." It’s arguably the most perfect pop song ever written.
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Seriously.
Everything about it—the descending bassline, the interlocking guitar melodies, that little synth hook—is engineered to make you feel like you’re falling in love on a windy cliffside. Robert Smith has famously said it’s one of the best things he’s ever done. It’s the sun breaking through the clouds after the darkness of "The Kiss" and "Torture."
The contrast is the point.
Most people think of The Cure as this monolithic block of sadness, but this era showed they had a wicked sense of humor and a genuine love for 60s psych-pop. "Catch" is a gentle, violin-laced story about a girl who used to fall down a lot. It’s sweet, weirdly specific, and totally charming. It’s a far cry from the "funeral in a rainy forest" vibes of their earlier work.
The Recording Process: Wine, Ghost Stories, and 1,000 Guitars
The sessions at Miraval were legendary for being... productive, but also extremely relaxed. The band lived on-site. They drank a lot of local wine. They played football.
Simon Gallup’s bass work on this album is some of his most aggressive and creative. You can hear it on "Hot Hot Hot!!!" where the band tries their hand at a sort of skeletal, gothic funk. It’s got these sharp, staccato horn hits that feel totally out of place for a "goth" band, yet they make it work.
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They were basically daring their audience to stop listening.
- "If Only Tonight We Could Sleep" brings in a heavy Eastern influence, using sitar-like guitar textures.
- "The Snake Pit" is a repetitive, droning crawl that mimics the feeling of being trapped.
- "Why Can't I Be You?" is a frantic, horn-heavy explosion of insecurity and desire.
The Problem With Double Albums
Let’s be real: 18 tracks is a lot. Even the most die-hard fans usually admit there’s a little bit of filler here. Does "Icing Sugar" need to be there? Maybe not. Does the saxophone on some of these tracks feel a bit "1987" in a way that hasn't aged perfectly? Sure.
But the "bloat" is part of the charm.
In the digital age, we’re used to curated, 10-track playlists. The Cure Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me is a relic of an era where you were meant to get lost in the forest of the music. You weren't supposed to skip tracks. You were supposed to let the atmosphere wash over you until you didn't know which way was up.
Looking Back From 2026
Decades later, the influence of this specific record is everywhere. You can hear the DNA of "The Kiss" in modern shoegaze and post-rock. You can hear the pop sensibility of "Just Like Heaven" in every indie band that’s picked up a Fender Jazzmaster in the last twenty years.
It’s the bridge between their cult status and their global superstardom. Before this, they were a big alternative band. After this, they were playing stadiums.
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The "Kiss Me" era was also when the visual identity of the band really solidified. The messy hair got bigger. The red lipstick got smudged further across the face. The videos, directed by the visionary Tim Pope, turned Robert Smith into a sort of surrealist icon—climbing out of wardrobes or being trapped in a giant jar of honey. It was colorful, bizarre, and perfectly matched the music’s "everything everywhere all at once" energy.
The Songs That Get Overlooked
Everyone talks about the hits, but the deep cuts are where the real magic happens. "One More Time" is an incredibly underrated, shimmering piece of melancholia. It has that classic Cure "long intro" that builds a world before the first lyric even hits.
And then there’s "Like Cockatoos."
The percussion sounds like it’s happening in a wet alleyway at 3 AM. The lyrics are cryptic and cinematic. It sounds like a movie that hasn't been made yet. It shows that even when they were aiming for the charts, they couldn't help but be inherently strange.
How to Actually Listen to It Today
If you’re new to the band or only know the "Disintegration" era, you have to approach this record differently. It’s not a "vibe" album you put on in the background. It’s a journey.
- Skip the "Greatest Hits" mindset. Don't just jump to the singles. You lose the impact of the transitions.
- Use headphones. The layering of guitars on tracks like "The Torture" is insane. There are melodies buried under melodies.
- Read the lyrics. Robert Smith is a much more literal songwriter here than people give him credit for. He’s telling stories, often messy and uncomfortable ones.
- Embrace the weirdness. If a track feels too long or too abrasive, that was likely the intention.
The Cure proved that you could be the biggest band in the world without compromising your strangeness. They didn't "sell out" to get to the top; they just invited everyone else into their weird, wine-soaked world in the south of France. The Cure Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me remains the definitive proof that being a "pop star" and a "tortured artist" aren't mutually exclusive. You can be both, as long as you have enough hairspray and a good enough bass player.
To get the most out of this record now, find a high-quality vinyl press or a lossless digital version. The production by David M. Allen is incredibly dense, and low-bitrate streaming honestly kills a lot of the subtle guitar work that makes "How Beautiful You Are" or "The Perfect Girl" so textured. Give it the full 74 minutes of your time without looking at your phone. You’ll find that the "mess" is actually a very carefully constructed masterpiece that hasn't lost a bit of its power.