Robert Smith is a liar. Well, maybe not a liar, but he’s definitely an unreliable narrator when it comes to his own band. For decades, the narrative around The Cure has been focused on the "Trilogy"—those dark, sprawling, doom-laden masterpieces like Pornography and Disintegration. But if you actually look at the the Cure singles discography, you see a completely different band. You see a pop band. You see a jazz-fusion experiment. You see a group of guys who were just as obsessed with the Top 40 as they were with existential dread.
Honestly, the singles are where the real genius hides. While the albums set a mood, the singles provided the cultural tectonic shifts.
The Early Days: Post-Punk and Tight Spaces
The journey started in Crawley. It wasn't "goth" yet. It was scratchy, nervous, and remarkably thin. When "Killing an Arab" dropped in 1978, it didn't sound like anything else on the radio. Inspired by Albert Camus, it was a literary statement wrapped in a surf-rock riff. It’s a weird way to start a career. Then came "Boys Don't Cry." You know the song. Everyone knows the song. But listen to it again. It’s basically a Motown track played by kids who forgot how to smile.
The early the Cure singles discography is defined by this incredible economy of sound. "Jumping Someone Else's Train" has a beat that feels like it’s falling down a flight of stairs but never hits the bottom. There was no reverb. No synthesizers. Just Robert Smith, Lol Tolhurst, and Michael Dempsey trying to sound like a machine.
Then things got dark. Really dark.
The transition into the early 80s saw "A Forest." This is the blueprint. If you want to understand why every indie band for the last forty years sounds the way they do, start there. It was their first real hit in the UK, reaching number 31. It’s six minutes of a bassline that refuses to change. It’s claustrophobic. It feels like being watched. It's also the moment Smith realized he could command a groove.
The "Fantasy" Pivot: When Everything Changed
By 1982, the band was falling apart. Pornography had nearly killed them. Robert Smith was exhausted by the gloom. So, what did he do? He went to the studio and recorded "The Lovecats."
Think about that for a second. The man who just finished singing about "waiting for the death of an old man" was suddenly meowing over a double bass and a piano. It was ridiculous. It was camp. It was also a massive hit. This era of the the Cure singles discography—often collected on Japanese Whispers—is the most fascinating pivot in rock history. Between "Let's Go to Bed," "The Walk," and "The Lovecats," Smith proved he could write a hook that would stay stuck in your head for a week.
"The Walk" is basically Robert Smith trying to do New Order better than New Order. It’s all programmed drums and icy synths. It’s the sound of a band shedding its skin. People often forget that for a while, The Cure were essentially a duo. It was just Robert and Lol, messing around with electronics.
The Golden Era: 1985–1992
This is the stretch where they became the biggest "cult" band in the world. They weren't just a niche act anymore. They were playing stadiums. "In Between Days" and "Close to Me" from The Head on the Door are perfect pop songs. Period. There’s no debate. "Close to Me" features a brass section that sounds like it’s being played in a wardrobe. It’s intimate and bouncy.
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And then came Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me.
"Just Like Heaven" is often cited as the greatest alternative rock song ever written. Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine famously said he spent his career trying to write a song as good as that. It’s the pinnacle of the the Cure singles discography. The way the acoustic guitars layer over the synth lead—it’s shimmering. It’s hopeful. It’s also incredibly sad if you actually read the lyrics. That’s the trick Smith pulls off better than anyone: he hides the misery in the melody.
Then, the monolith. Disintegration.
Most bands would release the "radio edit" and move on. Not Robert. "Lullaby" is a terrifying song about a "spiderman" coming to eat you. It’s creepy. It’s hushed. It became their highest-charting UK single at the time. "Lovesong" was a wedding present for his wife, Mary. It’s simple. It’s direct. It reached number 2 on the Billboard Hot 100. Let that sink in. A gothic rock band from England had the second most popular song in America, sandwiched between Milli Vanilli and Janet Jackson.
The B-Side Obsession
You cannot talk about the the Cure singles discography without mentioning the B-sides. Robert Smith is a completist’s nightmare. Throughout the 80s and 90s, the songs that didn't make the albums were often better than the ones that did.
Take "Exploding Boy" or "A Few Hours After This." These aren't throwaways. They are fully realized atmospheric pieces. In 2004, the band released Join the Dots, a four-disc box set just for B-sides and rarities. It’s essential listening. It shows the work ethic. While other bands were mailing it in, Smith was treating every 7-inch release like a holy relic.
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- "2 Late" (B-side to "Lovesong"): A driving, upbeat track that arguably should have been a hit on its own.
- "The Twilight Garden" (B-side to "High"): A heavy, swirling psychedelic masterpiece.
- "Harold and Joe" (B-side to "Never Enough"): A weird, synth-pop experiment that sounds like a fever dream.
The variety is staggering. They jumped from industrial noise to acoustic ballads without breaking a sweat.
The Later Years and the "Four" Project
As the 90s rolled into the 2000s, the singles became more sporadic. "Friday I'm in Love" from 1992 was the last time they truly dominated the global zeitgeist. It’s a polarizing song. Hardcore fans sometimes hate it for being too "happy," but honestly? It’s a masterclass in songwriting. It’s a song about the mundane nature of the week, punctuated by a burst of color.
In 2008, they did something weird. They released a single on the 13th of every month for four months leading up to the album 4:13 Dream. "The Only One," "Freakshow," "Sleep When I'm Dead," and "The Perfect Boy." It was a marketing stunt that felt very "Robert Smith." The songs were noisy, chaotic, and felt like a band trying to recapture their youth. They didn't have the same impact as the 80s classics, but they showed that the the Cure singles discography was still alive and kicking.
The Impact of the "Staring at the Sea" and "Galore" Collections
For most people, their entry point isn't the studio albums. It’s the compilations.
Standing on a Beach (or Staring at the Sea for the CD version) is a perfect document. It tracks the evolution from 1978 to 1985. You hear the voice drop an octave. You hear the guitars get thicker. Then Galore picks up the slack from 1987 to 1997.
These collections aren't just "greatest hits." They are chronological maps of a man’s psyche. You hear the confidence grow. You hear the moments where he almost lost his mind. You hear the moments where he decided he wanted to be a pop star.
Misconceptions About the Singles
A lot of people think The Cure is just "sad music." That’s a lazy take. If you listen to the full the Cure singles discography, you realize they are one of the most rhythmic bands of their era.
- The Funk Influence: "Hot Hot Hot!!!" is basically a funk track. The bassline is pure dance floor material.
- The Jazz Influence: "The Lovecats" and "Gone!" flirt with swing and brass in a way that most rock bands are too scared to try.
- The Industrial Edge: "Never Enough" features a wah-wah guitar that sounds like a circular saw. It’s aggressive and ugly.
They were never just one thing. They were a kaleidoscope.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Listener
If you’re looking to dive into this massive body of work, don’t just hit "shuffle" on a streaming service. You’ll miss the narrative.
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Start with the 12-inch versions. In the 80s, the extended remix was an art form. The 12-inch version of "Fascination Street" is a different beast entirely—it’s a dark, pulsing club track that lasts for eight minutes. The "Extended Mix" of "Pictures of You" adds layers of atmosphere that the radio edit cuts for time.
Track the B-sides by era. Match the B-sides of "Lovesong" with the Disintegration album. It provides a "deleted scenes" look at the recording sessions. It changes how you perceive the main tracks.
Check the "Lost Wishes" EP. This was a mail-order-only cassette from 1993. It’s four instrumental tracks from the Wish sessions. It’s some of the most beautiful music they ever made, and it technically falls under the singles/EP umbrella. It's often overlooked because it wasn't a "hit," but it's essential for understanding their melodic sensibility.
The the Cure singles discography isn't just a list of songs that played on the radio. It’s a 40-year diary of a band that refused to stay in one lane. They gave us permission to be sad, sure. But they also gave us permission to be weird, to be silly, and to dance like no one is watching.
To fully appreciate the scope of their work, locate the Join the Dots box set. Listen to it chronologically. Don't skip the remixes. Pay attention to how Robert Smith’s guitar playing evolves from the jagged, thin lines of "10:15 Saturday Night" to the lush, chorus-drenched walls of sound on "High." You’ll realize that the "singles" weren't just the hits—they were the experiments that kept the band alive.