Every the Cure album ranked: From worst to best

It’s been a long year of holding our breath in anticipation of the Cure‘s long-awaited 14th studio album, Songs of a Lost World. But while we have yet to see a release date on the horizon, Robert Smith is already making headlines ahead of the band’s 2023 North American tour.

In light of the ongoing controversy surrounding Ticketmaster‘s increasingly conspicuous price-gouging practices, the goth-rock icon has been resolute in securing the affordability of upcoming performances. It’s a mission that was made transparent from the jump. “We want the tour to be affordable for all fans, and we have a very wide (and we think very fair) range of pricing at every show,” the band explained in a statement in March. “Our ticketing partners have agreed to help us stop scalpers from getting in the way.”

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Over and above his outright rejection of the dynamic pricing model, Smith immediately went to bat against the Live Nation subsidiary over “unduly high” fees associated with ticket purchases. The complaint resulted in Ticketmaster refunding up to $10 per ticket to verified fan accounts. More recently, he’s taken on the issue of scalpers, announcing cancellations of approximately 7,000 tickets tied to fake accounts and resale websites. 

These recent developments reflect an essential quality of Smith and, more broadly, the Cure. That is, resolve. Across their 45-year tenure, the band have been nothing if not uncompromising. Casting aside genre lines and chasing fluidity in expression, this is an outfit that don’t bow down in the face of conflict or criticism. Rather, they flip up a metaphorical finger and carry on as they damn well please. It’s just the way of the Cure. And even when it doesn’t work explicitly in their favor, it still kind of does.

Every the Cure album ranked

Fiction/Elektra

13. Wild Mood Swings (1996)

Closing out a stretch of four consecutive, highly regarded releases, Wild Mood Swings finds the Cure at a crossroads. Caught between their quintessential ’80s underpinning and strange ’90s exhibitionism, it’s an ambitious effort taken one step too far. “Want” is the obvious standout of the album, earning the introductory spotlight with grunge personality. Beyond that, it’s an hour-long show of aggressive mediocrity — save perhaps for the occasional heart-wrenching ballad offering temporary reprieve into the gone days of purgative dejection.

Suretone/Geffen

12. 4:13 Dream (2008)

If there’s one thing that can be learned through a sequential revisit of the Cure’s catalog, it’s that they excel in polarity. Perhaps that’s an explanation for why 4:13 Dream misses the mark of alt-rock greatness. Though the record was intended to be the first of a double release, Smith eventually abandoned the idea due to mounting pressures and a self-described lack of “energy and conviction” necessary to resist them. We can only begin to speculate whether the long-lost counterpart would have complemented 4:13 Dream in a way that made it shine. As it stands, though, the album is just a stale attempt to reclaim the success of Wish. There are the odd hidden gems — think “Underneath the Stars” and “Switch” — but the holes between them create a real Swiss cheese effect.

Fiction/Sire

11. The Top (1984)

The Top isn’t entirely without redeemable moments (invigorating drumlines, captivating lyrical narratives). But as a whole, this breezy, all-too-eclectic album feels decidedly out of place against all other iterations of the Cure’s decades-spanning tenure. The psychedelic rabbit hole is especially jarring in its position between the effortless self-awareness of its disparate bookends, Pornography and The Head on The Door. That said, it’s not a bad record by any stretch. In fact, the odd, playful diversion can make for a fun palate cleanser between the gloomier tracks in a shuffled queue. 

Fiction

10. Three Imaginary Boys (1979)

It's difficult to say anything overtly negative about the Cure's debut album. No doubt, Three Imaginary Boys is a representation of its time, showcasing the experimental dynamics of early post-punk grounded in more conventional ’70s riffs. The essence of the band is there, swirling in a strange whimsicality that accents lines like, "I would murder you if I had the alibi here in my hand/But you just laugh 'cause you don't understand." But even for deep-rooted fans of the Cure, it's much less a decadence than it is an artful starting point.

Fiction/Polydor/Elektra

9. Bloodflowers (2000)

Given the commercial flop of Wild Mood Swings before it, Bloodflowers should have marked a surefire convalescence for the Cure at the turn of the century. Unfortunately, it fell a bit short of the band’s former glory. The fundamental elements are there, packaged neatly in the confines of alternative rock’s goth side. Even with the occasional venture into indie territory, it’s not hard to believe that this is the same band that brought us Seventeen Seconds and Pornography. But what it has in substance, it lacks tenfold in pacing. Pushed to their limits, the song lengths seem like a self-imposed challenge to recapture the magic of songs like “Pictures of You” or “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea.” And in that respect, they prove that sometimes less really is more. 

I Am/Geffen

8. The Cure (2004)

In 1978, Polydor’s newly established Fiction Records took a chance on three teens and their demo tape. The imprint then saw the Cure through their golden era, releasing eleven studio albums over 23 years. Bloodflowers would be the last. The ensuing, self-titled album dog-eared the beginning of a new chapter for the band under Geffen Records. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, hit the refresh button on their signature sound. Understandably, the result has proved controversial among fans over time, though it’s not wholly deserving of the bad rap. Unlike many of the band’s previous jaunts into unfamiliar ground, this one is inarguably self-assured. Tethered firmly to the band’s pop-laced, post-punk beginnings, it expands on their profile with a raw, grunge-y quality that feels right at home in the 2000s nü-metal explosion. Was it groundbreaking? Not in the slightest. But it’s a well-composed record, nonetheless. 

Fiction

7. Faith (1981)

The Cure’s third album is admittedly difficult to place. If 1980’s Seventeen Seconds lit the match of despondent ambience, then Faith carried it to the pyre. Still, there’s a marked divergence that, while not entirely unlikeable, falls flat against the heels of its precursor. Laden with fluctuating and, at times, funky energy, the record harks back to the band’s punkier foundations — but only intermittently. It’s an ephemeral identity crisis that, in a bottle, lends itself to Faith’s forlorn charm. However, in the context of the Cure’s larger discography, it’s a missing link that was discovered a year too late.

Fiction/Elektra

6. The Head on the Door (1985)

At the start of 1985, it must’ve been hard to imagine that this version of the Cure loomed on the horizon. After all, they’d shown a strong propensity for sonic variation. The Head on the Door, however, leaned into their alternative pop sensibilities in a way no previous album had — and it worked. Filtering the band’s well-established, fervent intensity through a lens of outright danceability, the record hit a sweet spot with genre-defiant coalescence that earlier explorations failed to achieve. The result teeters seamlessly in vague semblance between David Bowie, Siouxsie and the Banshees, and Depeche Mode. And with such wide-reaching undercurrents, it’s no surprise that its premiere pushed the band into an international spotlight. 

Fiction/Elektra

5. Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (1987)

Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me is the coming-of-age story to The Head on the Door’s artistic awakening. A natural progression from its antecedent with Nylon-threaded ties to the Cure’s earlier works, it’s difficult to consider this album in an isolated context. Rather, it’s an obvious culmination of a near decade’s worth of stylistic trial-and-error. The band’s confidence as a newfound global fixture is glaring, driving an electrifying current throughout its refined displays of goth-leaning, alt-rock prowess. Still, songs like “The Snakepit” prove that the band hadn’t lost an ounce of grit during their rise.

Fiction/Elektra

4. Wish (1992)

Expectations were undoubtedly high for the Cure after the 1989 release of Disintegration. Add to that the anticipation following their longest break between studio albums (a whopping three years), and you have a recipe for disappointment. Remarkably, though, Wish really held its own, drawing on the tried-and-true successes of its predecessor with joyful abandon. Like light on the horizon, it juxtaposes the exhilarating qualities of the storm stretching before it. But it’s also a beauty in its own right, offering a refreshing air of lovestruck buoyancy through its vibrant, pop-rock melodies.

Fiction

3. Seventeen Seconds (1980)

Seventeen Seconds brought forth an unexpected but delicious transcendence. Deviating from the erraticism of Three Imaginary Boys, the Cure's spellbinding sophomore record is a lesson in cohesion. A melancholic fog persists steadily throughout its 10 tracks, looming over the shoulders of higher-energy cuts like "Play for Today" and "A Forest." But while seemingly impenetrable, it's far from suffocating, instead generating a worldscape of elegant catharsis. It’s a notable progression toward the sonic stylings that we’ve come to love — a record that’s not just stood the test of time, but thrived under it.

Fiction/A&M

2. Pornography (1982)

Calling back to the match-to-pyre analogy pulled out for Faith, Pornography is the ensuing blaze. From a distance, the rousing instrumentation and dark tonality are as mesmerizing as they are harrowing. But stand an inch too close and it becomes impossible to ignore the Cure’s fourth studio album as a force of primal nature. Suspended in an agitated abyss, the tracklist sharply contrasts the band’s poppier, mainstream hits like “Just Like Heaven” or “Friday I’m In Love.” However, there’s no denying that this record represents the edgiest cornerstone of their ethos.

Fiction/Elektra

1. Disintegration (1989)

Look no further than the first 30 seconds of Disintegration for proof of its placement. The chilling, windchime-driven introduction of “Plainsong” sets a moody stage that’s beautifully reminiscent of Seventeen Seconds. Then, it sets fire to the atmosphere with an anthemic explosion that’s ingrained in the heart of shadowy, alternative rock. To call this album a masterpiece would be an understatement. Its poignance will reverberate for hours in your bones. And while notedly arena-ready, it’s hardly the sell-out story that one might expect from a chart-topping release. Instead, it fully embraces the sharp-edged proclivities that previously solidified the Cure as a pinnacle of gothic pageantry.