In the splendid world of alternative scene some albums are considered legendary. Their fame is spread from mouth in mouth and from generation to generation and their value is indisputably unsusceptible to criticism by being dogmatically perfect and almost hedonically influential. Unfortunately, those albums are not so many anymore and as time goes by, with the swift transmission of music over the internet and the commercialization of music from the record labels, magic is getting lost. On the other hand, fortunately enough, the inherent need to identify with idols and to integrate in a form of art, which worships the mystic adoration of the dark and the sad, the apotheosis of loneliness and the flirtation with the death in a fascinatingly enchanting world, has produced “Pornography”, the fourth album of The Cure, which is considered by the fans of the group as their absolute masterpiece.
It is not a secret that the conditions under which “Pornography” was recorded were exceptionally unfavourable so much for the fragile unity of the group, but also for the psyche of Robert Smith. Arguments and conflicts between the members of group, dramatic concerts with Smith withdrawing crying from stage having absolutely identified with the figure he impersonated, rivers of alcohol and drugs was the setting that was soundly accompanied from three albums up to that time. First, “Three Imaginary Boys”, a rather immature effort of post punk lightness, as Smith also had admitted, “Seventeen Seconds” and “Faith”, which were included in the dark albums that the British scene had demonstrated. At the time of “Pornography” The Cure were balancing on a rope that would deify or destroy them. Robert Smith had already begun to be considered as the new martyr of British rock and this burden on the shoulders of young man from Crawley of Sussex was extremely heavy.
The group entered the RAK Studio One of London in January 1982 with a pessimistic disposal. Simon Gallup, the bass player of The Cure, had said characteristically that the nihilism had conquered everything. This is obvious from the first verse in horrific “100 Years”. The frozen desperation of Robert Smith singing “It doesn’t matter if we all die”, anchored by screaming guitars and hard bass, direct a Hitchcock setting. Distant sounds that gradually strengthen also then hide again captivate the atmosphere such as spirits in a haunted house in the classic gothic rhythm of “A Short Term Effect”. “Siamese Twins” could be a very beautiful piece, but it is deliberately naked in the essentially addictive guitar riff, the catatonic voice of Smith and the monotonous drum tempo, which transform it into a funereal manifesto “Sing out loud, we all die, laughing into the fire, is it always like this”.
“Hanging Garden” is one of the bravest singles of The Cure. Their record label, being desperate with the non-commercial material of the record, decided to promote “Hanging Garden” in order to enhance the promotion of “Pornography”, considering he single as the “negotiable” piece of the record. “Hanging Garden” is a minimalist, untamed object of virtue that entered the Top 40 British Charts. “Figurehead” is a haunted invitation to a party in the dark world of Robert Smith. “Sharp and open, leave me alone and sleeping less every night, as the days become heavier and weighted, waiting in the cold light” he sings with real pain, while he admits in a rare moment of worldliness “I could lose myself in Chinese art and American girls”.
“A Strange Day” is an adolescent ode to the touch of death in a beach, the loss in the waves and the scary opposition with the plastic pop of the era of new romantics, who accompanied the pictures by the beach with beautiful girls and expensive cars. The closure with “Cold” and the homonymous “Pornography” tries to justify the opinion of Robert Smith that he wanted to write a record that would be unbearable for the listeners. “Cold” is a dry, frozen, anti-erotic elegy “your name like ice into my heart, everything as cold as life, can no-one save you?” and in cacophonous, difficult “Pornography”, after he exposes his humble, murderous instincts “one more day like today and I’ll kill you, a desire for flesh and real blood”, he closes with the relatively optimistic phrase “I must fight this sickness, find a cure”.
Finally, Robert Smith overcame his demons and found the covetable treatment, resorting to brighter musical fields as the next album, “Japanese Whispers” proved. I’m pretty sure though that, if the messiah of melancholy had committed suicide in his gloomiest days, he would have been transformed from the morbid rock mythology into the absolute hero with the cult status of Jim Morrison and Ian Curtis and “Pornography” would have been his ideal exodus sequence. However, as in the world of art everything is relative and depends on subjectivity, “Pornography” has been heavily criticized from the majority of critics at that time, but, as all the important records, it was valorised with its quality over tine gaining the acceptance of a broad audience and the adoration of The Cure fans.
I do not know if “Pornography” is the absolute masterpiece that many believe – certain verses are extremely naïve and gullible, adolescent exercises of melancholy and self-destruction and the music has imperfections. I do not even know if it is the best album of The Cure. It is, however, an admirable realisation of a band on the verge of crash and one of the most important gothic rock records in the history of music. The “guru of gloom” is still here.