This post may seem a bit off topic, but hey, it's my blog! Plus, this will in a way lead to another post I'm working on about violence comitted against those on the margins of society. I discovered the Cure around 1986, largely through the classic compilation "Standing on a Beach." It was revelatory. I had never really been into most of the standard Top 40 stuff played on American radio. Here was music that was exciting and alive and different. It was music a sensitive young man like myself could relate to. How could I not love a band that introduced me to Albert Camus?
The Cure served as a gateway to other bands: Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Jesus and Mary Chain, Sisters of Mercy, Joy Division, etc. By the time I graduated high school, I had joined the ranks of the perpetually black clad, where I would remain for several years.
Both my musical and sartorial tastes would eventually expand, but my love for Goth music has never gone away, and it is still the musical subculture I most relate to. This was reinforced on July 27, when the Cure played their first ever show in my hometown of Honolulu. It goes without saying that I was there in the audience.
I had seen the Cure previously in San Diego in 1992 during their "Wish" tour. It was the best concert I had ever been to, bar none. (Incidentally, I saw Peter Murphy around the same time. It was like Goth sensory overload!)
The Cure, Honolulu 2013, may have been even better than the Cure, San Diego 1992.
Some thoughts on the Honolulu concert…
I have always enjoyed classical music. However, it wasn't until about 10 years ago that I started to get seriously into the genre. I started to accumulate more classical CDs and made an effort to learn more about music history.
Two books were of particular help to me. Both contain the letters "NPR" in their titles. The first was The NPR Curious Listener's Guide to Classical Music by Tim
Smith. This was the first book about classical music I ever bought, and it remains one of my favorites. It's a great introduction, covering the history of classical music, descriptions of various subgenres, explanations of musical terms, and biographies of famous composers and musicians. Of particular use to classical newbies is the list of recommended recordings to help the novice build his or her own musical library. While I don't agree with Smith's recommendations across the board, in general his choices are very good. If you want to go beyond the basics and start really expanding your classical collection, you couldn't do better thanThe NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection: The 350 Essential Works by
Ted Libbey. The book is divided into several categories: orchestral works, concertos, chamber pieces, keyboard works, sacred works, and operas. (FYI: The opera section is pretty skimpy. Really, opera probably needs its own book.) Libbey has an entertaining and witty writing style, and there are lots of amusing asides. As with Smith, I don't agree with all of Libbey's recommendations, but I agree with him far more often than not. You would not go wrong following his advice.
I discovered the Cure around 1986, largely through the classic compilation "Standing on a Beach." It was revelatory. I had never really been into most of the standard Top 40 stuff played on American radio. Here was music that was exciting and alive and different. It was music a sensitive young man like myself could relate to. How could I not love a band that introduced me to Albert Camus?
This was reinforced on July 27, when the Cure played their first ever show in my hometown of Honolulu. It goes without saying that I was there in the audience.
