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T'cha Dunlevy, Montreal GazettePublished: Wednesday, May 14
"You make me feel like I am young again," sang Robert Smith, lead singer for the Cure, for 8,600 concertgoers last night at the Bell Centre. The line belongs to Lovesong, a Cure classic, delivered a half-hour into the band's three-decade-spanning, three-hour set.
Young he is not, nor were most of the longstanding fans who came out to hear their once-favourite band. But music has a funny way of compressing time. Flashbacks were rampant as the Cure ran through its extensive back catalogue, mixing obscurities with hits in a generous, polished performance.
The band (featuring veteran members Porl Thompson on guitar and Simon Gallup on bass, plus drummer Jason Cooper, who joined in 1995) was tight, delivering the songs with enthusiasm and conviction. And Smith's iconic voice held up remarkably well, soaring above the fray with real elasticity.
The bonus of playing a 180-minute set is you can take your time and let things build. The audience waited patiently through a solid first hour that included several new songs (off the band's forthcoming, yet-untitled 13th album), as well as less-prominent early material.
Things took off with In Between Days, from 1985's The Head on the Door. People jumped to their feet and danced, staying up for Just Like Heaven, next. They then sat for the heavy Primary, off 1981's Faith.
But the intensity remained. The Cure is a dance band, but not just a dance band. Attributed with kickstarting the goth movement in the '80s, the group's music was once the coming-of-age soundtrack for brooding, bedroom-bound teens everywhere.
Fittingly, much of yesterday's show was enjoyed with understated approval. It is worth noting, however, that at any given time, even during the lulls, there were at least a few scattered diehards standing, and swaying to the music.
One Hundred Years was frenetic and tense, Smith and Thompson's guitar work building to a grinding climax. The set-ending Disintegration followed, its airy appeal eliciting nods, swaying, and hearty cheers.
There were several encores, grouped thematically. The first offered four songs off the sinister 1982 album 17 Seconds. Things lightened up considerably when they returned for another round, leading off with Boys Don't Cry.
There was more show to go, when deadline beckoned. But the tone had been set in no uncertain terms. The Cure was holding court, and holding the fort. And a very engaged audience was paying tribute - to a band that not only played a major role in the evolution of alternative rock, but is still in good enough shape to remind us why.
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