“I’ve known Harry since I was 19 and he was 16, and there’s something about going through your formative years — it’s quite weird,” Sheeran said. “He’s obviously on top of the world right now and has gone from being in the biggest boy band in the world to then being the biggest solo artist in the world. It’s an amazing journey to see, and I’m really super, super proud of him.”
Sheeran also compared his long-standing friendship with Styles to his long-standing friendship with Taylor Swift.
“It’s the same thing as Taylor. There’s rarely people that totally understand you, and I think both of them — because they are solo artists and are at this level, you kind of talk and there’s an understanding there that you don’t necessarily get from everyone,” he explained.
“I have long, long conversations with Taylor about stuff just because I feel like she’s one of the only people that actually truly understands where I’m at,” he told Lowe.
Back on Spout, Sheeran also touched on Swift: “I think because we don’t do a hell of a lot of business together, like, we’re very much — every now and then, we’ll come together and do something, but I’ve hung out with her more times than I can count and I can count on one hand how many songs we’ve released together. It is a friendship friendship, and we just happen to be in the same business.”
Watch Sheeran’s Spout Podcast interview above.
Ed Sheeran is a Warner Music artist. Uproxx is an independent subsidiary of Warner Music Group.
“We are also excited to welcome Beauty School Dropout, Destroy Boys, KennyHoopla, Landon Barker, and White Reaper on select dates of our North American tour. See you soon!” the band wrote on Instagram.
The North American leg is scheduled to wrap at Bridgestone Arena in Nashville, Tennessee on July 16. The tour’s European leg will run from September 2 to October 15 in Glasgow and Manchester, respectively.
When the heck is the South Park creators’ version of Casa Bonita reopening? That’s a question that’s on a lot of devotees’ minds after a rumored reopening date earlier this month caused locals to line up in Lakewood, Colorado. People want those famous sopapillas. They want them so badly, in fact, that some people decided to either hop on airplanes or plan full-on vacations in hopes of getting lucky enough to be in town for the mystery date.
Previously, Trey Parker and Matt Stone (along with famed chef Dana “Loco” Rodriguez) revealed that the pink palace’s doors will reopen in May, but that’s all that people know. Staff has been training, permits have been acquired, and the South Park guys expect millions of visitors annually, which will make for one crowded parking lot. So, it’s no wonder that a camp-out event will happen, once an actual grand reopening date emerges.
CBS News noticed the small crowd waiting in line outside the building this week. That includes a family that decided to make the reopening a vacation from Kentucky, and the outlet got the lowdown on how this happened:
“Anniversary, wife’s birthday, son’s birthday — the whole nine yards. We just decided ‘Hey, we’re going to give it a shot,’” John Ashmore [of Kentucky] told CBS News Colorado.
“We saw some really cheap tickets to Denver and we wanted to make sure we were here for the opening. We knew it was opening in May. So we were hoping this would be the weekend and we booked our tickets. Unfortunately, it seems like we just missed it,” said Shani Jonas who came all the way from New York City.
The Denver Gazette recently spoke to a neighboring business owner, who likened the secrecy of the revamped venue to “working next door to the CIA.” Well, when Casa Bonita is about to reopen with its trademark “eatertainment” intact and the promise of actual “good” food on the menu, people can’t resist. Less than two weeks from now, restaurant devotees will hopefully have gotten a taste.
Last last year, Courtney Love went on the WTF With Marc Maron podcast and revealed that she had an unreleased song called “Justice For Kurt.” Yesterday (May 17), the Hole bandleader appeared on a new episode of Rob Harvilla’s Songs That Explain The ’90s podcast and discussed an earlier version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”
“Some of these were in these journals, and some of them are unpublished,” she said. She recited the first draft of lyrics aloud: “Come out and play / Make up the rules / I know I hope / To buy the truth / Who will be the king and queen / Of all the outcasted teens,” followed by, “We’re so lazy / And so stupid / blame our parents / And the cupids / A deposit, for a bottle / Stick it inside / No role model.”
She continued, reading the second draft of the lyrics: “We merge ahead this special day / This day giving amnesty to sacrilege / A denial / And from strangers / A revival / And from favors / Here we are now / We’re so famous / Here we are now / Entertain us.”
Love clarified, “The only consistencies that it retains are: ‘Load up on guns and bring your friends,’ and ‘Little group has always been and always will until the end,’ that’s it.”
e91 of 60 SONGS THAT EXPLAIN THE ’90S is on nirvana’s “SMELLS LIKE TEEN SPIRIT” and costars COURTNEY LOVE, holy moly https://t.co/TzOV0SDiQl
Julia Louis-Dreyfus is pretty clear about her opinion here. She’s not here for her feelings to be spared, if something is bad, yeah, you’d better just tell her. In You Hurt My Feelings, (her second collaboration with director Nicole Holofcener, after the wonderful Enough Said) she plays Beth, a successful author who is having a tough time getting her new book sold to a publisher. She’s being told it’s great – even by her husband, who she trusts the most – so she can’t understand why no one is interested. That is, until she overhears her husband telling the truth about her book (it’s lousy), which sets off a cascade of emotions as the two debate if it’s better to be emotionally supportive and spare her feelings, or just tell the truth. And this is an interesting debate. Especially when the person asking for an opinion is proud of what they’ve produced.
In the movie, Beth’s husband is a therapist. A case could be made, well, what does he know? But in real life, Louis-Dreyfus is married to writer-director Brad Hall, who she met in college and worked at SNL with. As she says, she very much expects an honest answer, because the opposite would be “gutting.” (I tried to come up with a scenario where, maybe, sparing someone’s feelings could be seen as a good thing and she was not having it.)
Speaking of SNL, Louis-Dreyfus has been pretty clear that it wasn’t her favorite experience. It was an odd time in the show’s history, as she was there during the only five years Lorne Michaels wasn’t running the show. But she’s come back to host three times (and has been wonderful all three times). That’s an interesting dynamic she has with SNL now and, ahead, she explains why she wanted to come back and host, for multiple reasons.
Also, soon after Seinfeld, she and Hall collaborated on an NBC show called Watching Ellie, which was pretty ambitious. Premiering in 2002, it was a single-camera show set in real-time, in a time period when comedies didn’t really use single camera like they would only a few years later with The Office. Louis-Dreyfus is still incredibly proud of that show, which didn’t really get a chance. Ahead, she also talks about what her mindset was post-Seinfeld and why she wanted to take a big swing. And why she still feels the note they got from NBC to abandon the format was “pretty shitty.”
This movie, I’ve thought about it a lot, it puts some interesting questions out there about the person you’re with and what you really want to hear from them critically…
Yeah, totally.
In the movie, your character’s husband’s a therapist. But in real life, Brad Hall, he has a similar job that you do. I couldn’t help but think, what is that dynamic like? Has he ever said something like, “You know what, you just didn’t have it this time”?
Well, I definitely rely on his opinion and judgment in many ways. I really respect his point of view, and I always need his thinking on any project that I’m working on. I’m always running material by him, footage by him. I’ll show him an edit because I really value his input and I feel like we’re sort of a team in that sense. So, the notion of him withholding critical information from me would be a devastating thing. More than that, not just withholding, but if he were to completely not tell me the truth about something, I think that would be gutting to me.
Obviously, you two were on SNL together. Did the relationship start with trading ideas and being honest about ideas, and then that just continued and that dynamic just never changed?
We met at Northwestern. We met before SNL and we started dating when I was in college. He was no longer in college, but he had been there, and then he actually started a theater company in Chicago and I joined the theater company. It was a part of a number of shows that we did. That’s sort of when we really started dating at that time, and we’ve been together ever since. So, there you go.
But even back then, I assume you had to be honest with each other about your material to be successful. To this day, it’d be weird if that dynamic changed.
Yeah, we are honest with each other. I mean, we are. I’ll tell him I don’t like something and he will tell me the same, for sure.
And Brad’s directed three episodes of Veep? That’s a situation where people have to be pretty honest with each other, I assume?
Of course, because it’s a level of trust that’s in play and that engenders respect. So yeah, it’s all in play.
I guess I just keep thinking about what the movie is saying because I don’t know the answer. Sometimes I don’t know if I want to hear the truth. I guess deep down I do. But your character hears the truth behind her back, which is particularly hurtful.
Totally. I think he definitely mishandles that in the movie. The character of Don completely mishandles that dynamic and that situation in particular. So, it’s definitely a fuck-up on his part. The fact that she’s hearing him essentially betray her to her brother-in-law in a way that is… I mean, it’s egregious, what he does. And he could have handled that very differently. But I guess because of her neediness, he just couldn’t find a way to do it. But if I’m the ethics police, I might have advised him to change his ways.
Right. And if he’s going to go ahead and say he likes something he doesn’t like for the benefit of someone’s feelings, he should probably stand by that statement no matter who he’s talking to…
Yeah… I guess that’s another way of handling it, which is to keep the lie up. [Laughs] That’s not something I’d recommend.
Well, right. But I feel like telling other people the truth when it can get back… You’re right. Actually, you’re right. My point was wrong.
I mean, he’s not going to get a job working for the CIA with that move, let’s put it that way.
No, he’s not.
He’s not. It’s a boneheaded move! Boneheaded!
Between this and Enough Said, why do you and Nicole Holofcener work so well together? What is the relationship between you two?
Well, we’re very good friends. We’ve known each other a long time. In fact, when we first met, and it was on Enough Said, we both had a feeling like, how is it possible that we’ve never met each other before?
Oh, that’s good.
We really have a shared sensibility. A shared sense of what’s funny and a shared interest in a kind of drama comedy that’s based on human behavior and character. That’s her skill set, of course. That’s where she does her best writing, and I’m drawn to that kind of material. Also, I just like her as a person. We have a good time together. We’re always laughing. And we both have two boys. We’re roughly the same age. I don’t know. I just dig her the most.
Selfishly, I just hope it doesn’t take another ten years for another collaboration.
Oh, believe me. I feel the same. It was hard because we had opportunities to work together, but they didn’t work out schedule-wise because of my schedule and her schedule before. But now, moving forward, I’m very hopeful that we can find a way to do something again and lickety-split. I mean, I’m definitely badgering her about it.
Well, that’s interesting. This is one of the few times, ever, you’re not a lead character on a television show, which takes such a time commitment. Where now you do have the freedom to say, hey, let’s do something soon.
Correct. Yes. Exactly.
What’s that like for you? Now being able to schedule a movie or project, as opposed to before?
First of all, I love working on series. I think it’s incredibly exciting and challenging to work on something long-term like that.
And, obviously, you’ve had a lot of good ones. I even loved Day by Day. I watched that show every week.
[Laughs] Oh! Thank you. Thank you. But that being said, I do in fact love having the freedom sort of being able to bounce around. I mean, I’ve made, I don’t know, like four movies – I’m about to start a fifth – in the last year. I love that as well. Frankly, I’m just happy to be employed.
I’ve always wondered about something, a show you and Brad collaborated on, Watching Ellie. I watched every episode of that show. It was your first big project after Seinfeld. Is there a tendency after something big like Seinfeld to be like, oh, we have to do something completely different? Because it had that really unique aspect of being set in real-time. Which was a big swing. Then that aspect of it went away if I remember correctly.
I definitely wanted to diverge from Seinfeld. And I thought it was a really cool thing to have it be in real-time…
Yeah. It was.
It was single camera and I was playing a musician, which was very appealing to me. So, all of those things kind of separated it from what I’d done before, and that was appealing. I think it was sad for me when NBC came in and decided we had to do a hybrid for the second season.
It became multi-cam, I think, am I remembering that right?
It became a hybrid. We still did single-camera work, but it was also multi-cam. Some of those episodes are still funny, but I think it was a pretty shitty note from NBC, to be honest. But it was the only way we could keep the show going because they didn’t want to do any more single-camera shows. So they said in that moment they didn’t want to do any more single camera…
Yeah, that sure changed a few years later.
Exactly! Yeah. But I stand by that show because I think it was ahead of its time.
It certainly was. Also, you had Steve Carrell. Whatever happened to that guy?
Yeah, exactly! We had Steve Carrell. We had Peter Storemayor. We had Darren Boyd from the UK who is an amazing comic and dramatic actor. Anyway, it was too bad that show ended because I think we were onto something pretty good there. But it doesn’t matter. Whatever, we still had a good time doing it.
I am well aware of your feelings towards your time at Saturday Night Live, but you’ve also come back to host three times. Which is interesting. I didn’t love high school, and if someone there were like, “Hey, you want to come back and teach for a week,” I’d be like, “No.” But you’ve always come back, and done great on the show. So, I find that an interesting dynamic and I’ve always wondered about that.
Well, first of all, the first time that I went back to host, do you know that I was the first former female cast member to ever come back and host the show?
I did know that.
For the first time! That’s, in and of itself, mind-blowing. So, I was happy to sort of crack that particular glass ceiling. I was also happy to go back because I think the show was… it was a particularly good cast. It was being better run than when I was there. So, I think show to show, it was just elevated. But really, primarily, it’s always a good thing to promote whatever it is you’re promoting. It’s always good to be on SNL. Obviously, people go on and promote whatever their project is. But I was looking back with the knowledge that I had that I didn’t have back in 1982. So, I knew what it was I needed to do to be a good host and to get it done well because I had all that experience under my belt. So, that was an opportunity. It was like getting a redo.
I see.
Or getting a do-over, to a certain extent. Even though I was a host, I wasn’t a cast member. Still, I understood the dynamics. I understood the schedule on that show, it has not changed since. I mean, they had not changed. It was the same thing. I knew it was a great opportunity and I enjoyed the shit out of it, even though it’s incredibly difficult.
Your era, that’s probably the strangest five-year run in the history of the show, when Lorne was gone. I did a set design magazine piece once and I asked a question about that era and the person I asked said that wasn’t a good time for him and didn’t want to talk about it. So, I get that it wasn’t your favorite time period. But I always love it when you come back and host because you’re so great at it.
Thank you. That’s nice that you say. I appreciate it.
I think I’m out of time. You have to understand, I’ve been doing this a long time, but sometimes, if it’s someone like you, I almost don’t want to do the interview, because if something goes wrong, it would ruin my life…
No, no, no…
Because Seinfeld is on so often, every time I’m flipping through channels I’d be reminded, “Oh, well, I screwed that one up.” I always have to judge the risk and reward when it’s an artist I admire.
Well, first of all, I thank you for the compliment. And second of all, you didn’t fuck anything up.
For what seems like years, the only evidence of Killers of the Flower Moon being an actual movie was that one photo of Leonardo DiCapario and Lily Gladstone sitting at a table. That’s it. Nothing more. But I’m finally convinced that director Martin Scorsese’s $200 million “masterpiece,” which is set in 1920s Oklahoma and depicts the serial murder of members of the oil-wealthy Osage Nation, is coming out, because now there’s a trailer. And what a trailer!
You can watch it above.
Author David Grann, who wrote the book Killers of the Flower Moon is based on, told Uproxx about what he hopes people get from the movie. “Well, I wrote that book, the main reason, was to hopefully fill in my own ignorance and the ignorance of others outside the Osage nation,” he said. “So many of us hadn’t learned that history, and we had largely excised it from our conscience. And what I think will be great about the film is that it can reach even more people and hopefully lead people to a better understanding of the history.”
Killers of the Flower Moon, which premieres at the 76th Cannes Film Festival this week, also stars Robert De Niro, Jesse Plemons, Tantoo Cardinal, Cara Jade Myers, JaNae Collins, Jillian Dion, Brendan Fraser, and John Lithgowis. It’s scheduled to be released in select cinemas on October 6, before a wide release on October 20. A streaming date on Apple TV+ will follow.
The 2024 presidential election hasn’t even begun and yet Donald Trump is already claiming the results will be rigged — if he doesn’t win, that is.
In another ALL-CAPS rant posted to his Truth Social account, the former president currently facing a litany of lawsuits, shouted his displeasure over the multiple indictments against him. Currently, Trump is facing a financial civil suit in New York, a criminal inquiry into his efforts to overturn the 2020 presidential election results in Georgia, a Justice Department probe into the mishandling of classified documents at Mar-a-Lago, and more Jan. 6th investigations in Washington D.C.
“I WAS BEING FRAMED BY THE FBI AND THE DOJ,” Trump wrote. NOW IT CONTINUES WITH THE BOXES HOAX, THE ‘PERFECT’ PHONE CALL IN ATLANTA, THE MANHATTAN D.A., AND THE NEW YORK STATE A.G. SCAM. WHAT A GROUP, BUT ALL REPORT TO THE DOJ IN WASHINGTON. IT’S JAMES COMEY AND THE SLEAZEBAGS ALL OVER AGAIN.”
We’re sorry if the screeching block text hurts your tired eyes, but there’s more.
“THEY ARE PLAYING ELECTION INTERFERENCE IN 2024 THROUGH ILLEGAL LAW ENFORCEMENT AGAINST REPUBLICANS, IN PARTICULAR YOUR FAVORITE PRESIDENT, ME,” Trump continued. “THESE ARE CHEATING LOWLIFES, BUT WE WILL WIN. OUR COUNTRY IS GOING TO HELL!”
Oddly enough, the recent bombshell that Trump was found liable for sexual battery against journalist E. Jean Carroll in a civil trial that ended last week did not make his list of grievances. In fact, Trump bragged during his latest CNN town hall that the jury did not find him liable for rape, only for forcibly performing a sex act on Carroll (as if that’s somehow not as bad). Perhaps he’s unbothered by losing yet another lawsuit because this one carries just a $5 million fine, or because he knows his diehard supporters don’t care about pesky issues like bodily autonomy and people’s right to not have their genitals grabbed and prodded by a fish-filet-loving fascist with a bad combover and a restricted vocabulary.
Still, you know that little twerp on the playground that would point fingers and shout about everyone else trying to get him in trouble even though he was the one who kept pulling kids’ pants down and claiming he was king of the jungle gym? This is giving that.
But even without the Ticketmaster debacle, these shows would have likely been a huge hit. Originally formed in 1978, The Cure have endured over the course of 45 years as an alt-rock institution impervious to trends. Even as their output has slowed — their peak lasted from the early ’80s to the early ’90s, when they put out new albums practically every year — they have hung on as an influence for each new generation of “sullen teenager” music. From shoegaze to nü-metal to emo rap, The Cure lurks in the architecture of modern music.
Smith’s advocacy for his fans speaks to how The Cure is a community as much as a band. They are synonymous with a distinct sound, look, and vibe that is unique to them, and also a reliable reference point for countless other bands, regardless of genre.
How did it happen? And what has survived after all these years as The Cure’s best work? I’ll show you how they did it. These are the Cure songs that make me scream, I said. The ones that make me laugh, I said. I’ll throw this list around your head.
TWO MINUTE LANGUID INSTRUMENTAL PRE-LIST INTRODUCTION
It is October of 1980. The Cure are in Amsterdam while on tour in support of their second LP, Seventeen Seconds. The band is being interviewed by a Dutch journalist, who posits a question that seems unusual now but (I guess?) at the time was relevant: “Are The Cure the Pink Floyd of the ’80s?”
The only possible explanation for this inquiry that makes sense to me is that on Seventeen Seconds — which feels like The Cure’s real debut, in that exhibits all of the Cure-esque sonic signifiers that their actual debut, 1979’s plucky post-punk missive Three Imaginary Boys, does not — the band indulged in the sorts of long, languid instrumental introductions that a rock critic in 1980 might have likened to “Shine On You Crazy Diamond.” Not that the breakout song from the album, “A Forest,” resembles the Floyd in any other way. But (I guess??) that intro — it takes exactly one minute and 48 seconds for the vocal to appear, nearly the length of a “normal” pop song — seemed similar enough at the time.
Robert Smith — who until now has been mostly ignoring the interviewer in favor of staring at the wall behind him — is visibly annoyed by the question. Not because he’s striking a standard punk posture against Pink Floyd on “boring old fart” grounds. (He actually loves early Pink Floyd, when they were lead by Syd Barrett, the original self-destructive British eccentric topped with a wild, bird’s nest mane of black hair.) What bothers Smith is that the assertion is lazy. More than that, he resents the implication that he’s not an original.
“The Cure are The Cure of the ’80s,” he insists.
Smith, we all know, is correct, even though The Cure haven’t fully become The Cure quite yet. In time, they will have their own aesthetic that is both musical and visual. For instance, any band that inserts a long, languid instrumental introduction into a song in 2023 won’t be compared with Pink Floyd. They will be likened to The Cure. A spidery guitar line that riffs on the melody against an equally melodic bass part slithering in and out of a stately drum beat — that’s The Cure’s whole thing right there.
And now I’m ripping it off. I’m ripping it off because the long, languid instrumental introduction is what initially pulls you into a Cure song. It’s what makes a Cure song feel like a movie that is depressing and romantic in equal measures.
I am preparing you for a nice, long, warm wallow.
Here comes the vocal.
40. “The Baby Screams” (1985)
It is April of 2019 in New York City. A small battalion of Cure band members are seated inside the Barclays Center while Trent Reznor delivers a speech inducting them into the Rock ‘n’ Roll Hall Of Fame.
But Trent Reznor really is just telling his own origin story. He grew up in a nowhere town in Pennsylvania, Trent tells us, and then moved as a young man in the mid-’80s to Cleveland, the big city, where he discovered college radio and alternative rock. Which meant he encountered one of the defining albums for alt-rock during this period, The Head On The Door by The Cure.
“A lot of darkness I felt in my head was coming back at me in the speakers,” he says, “and it blew my mind.”
Reznor’s story resonates because it isn’t unique to a millionaire rock star. It is, in fact, utterly typical for a Cure fan, particularly in the pre-internet world. This band blew a lot of minds by mirroring their audience’s dark sides and pushing it back at them in the form of dream-like anthems.
Later, Reznor marvels at Smith’s ability to write songs about difficult subjects that are also accessible and radio-friendly. He calls it inspirational, which is unique to a millionaire rock star who went on to write a pop song about how he would rather die than give someone control.
Reznor doesn’t put it exactly in these terms, but The Cure’s secret sauce is their ability to be soft and hard at the same time. This particular deep cut from The Head On The Door is a good example. The title is off-putting, even grotesque, in a way that I’m sure would have appealed to a person with Reznor’s sensibility. It hints at an unfathomable evil, and yet in the actual song the phrase “like a baby screams” is intended to evoke extreme pleasure. The baby screams because it is frightened, and the baby screams because it is delighted, and it’s sometimes hard to know the difference. That’s The Cure. Like so many of their songs, “The Baby Screams” is hard and bitter on the outside and soft and gooey on the inside.
39. “Before Three” (2004)
This simultaneous soft/hard-ness is what explains The Cure’s stubborn relevance and widespread influence, which is far greater than they get credit for. Their impact on post-punk, goth, alternative rock, dream pop, and shoegaze is obvious. But their reach goes well beyond those genres. In a broad sense, they are a foundational act for several generations of “sullen teenager” music. In the “alt-rock” mid-’90s, they were covered by Smashing Pumpkins. In the “nü-metal” late ’90s and early aughts, Korn and Deftones played Cure tunes. After that, the mall punk generation of Fall Out Boy and My Chemical Romance paid homage to Robert Smith. Then it was the emo-rap era, and Lil Peep and Wicca Phase Springs Eternal sampled them.
What’s incredible about this is that The Cure over the years has been a fairly static institution. We all know what they sound like, and what they look like, and what their vibe is. It never really changes. And yet all kinds of musicians and fanbases hear something that speaks to them that might not be apparent to a different constituency. Are they dark and drone-y? Jangly and poppy? Morose? Hopeful? Wimpy? Muscular? Malevolent? Pure? Do they rock? Do they roll? Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes.
Back to the nü-metal segment of The Cure Stan community: In 2004, Ross Robinson was brought in to produce the band’s self-titled album. At the time, any other legacy band caught working with the guy synonymous with Korn, Slipknot, and Limp Bizkit would be accused of trend-hopping. But with The Cure, it actually made sense, because they fit with those bands while also not fitting in with them at all. And that translates to this song: If you love nü-metal, it might sound like a slightly harder version of a typical Cure tune. If you don’t love nü-metal, it sounds exactly as hard as any other typical Cure song. And also as soft.
38. “Where The Birds Always Sing” (2000)
In reality, the most metal-like aspect of The Cure is the merch. This is a band that gives you a uniform.
Does “The Cure Kid” phenomenon still exist in American high schools? In the late 20th century, you could not walk into a school in this country without witnessing this particular clique. Oversized band T-shirts, baggy dark pants, wiry hair, and conspicuous makeup slathered on pale faces — this was the costume of The Cure Kid. Importantly, it worked for all genders. As it did for Robert Smith, who tinkered with the look during the Pornography era and codified it in the music videos spawned by The Head On The Door. The Cure Kid look obliterated the norms that defined the rigid world of pubescent angst that was ruled by confused hormones. Boys don’t cry? They do now. But it also wasn’t about boys and girls. The Cure Kid look was not feminine, either — it was “other.” It was you. Even if it was also him.
Speaking of him: In 2000, Robert Smith resolved to make an album that was basically a musical tribute to himself. It was called Bloodflowers, and it could be construed by an uncharitable observer as a sign that he was out of ideas. But I am not uncharitable. If anyone is going to make a record that riffs on Disintegration, I want it to be Robert Smith. After all, so many people have worn his clothes. He ought to have the right to wear them himself any time he wants. He wears the hell out of them in this song.
37. “In Your House” (1980)
In his Rock Hall induction speech, Reznor’s singled out for praise Robert Smith’s voice, “the most exquisite of instruments.” Indeed, the preservation of that voice is what’s most striking when you watch live clips of The Cure from any period. It is fundamentally a naive and youthful sound, capable of expressing (in Reznor’s words) “such a range of emotion, from rage, sorrow, and despair to beauty, frailty, and joy.” And it still, incredibly, has those same qualities even as Smith has aged into his mid-60s. Close your eyes and listen to this, and you might find it impossible to discern it from Smith as he was in 1980.
But there is more to The Cure than just Robert Smith. There is also Lol Tolhurst, band co-founder and perennial in-house punching bag. Their original drummer, Tolhurst has been slandered over the years — most prominently by Smith — as a substandard time keeper. And, I suppose, that is technically true. But his minimalist playing also is crucial to the band’s early sound, lending their songs an underlying sense of doom marching slowly but steadily forward. That inevitable pull toward something sinister is readily apparent on this track, a slasher movie in miniature in which a mysterious protagonist taunts the listener while pulling a psychological B&E.
36. “The Drowning Man” (1981)
“During Seventeen Seconds,” Smith later observed in 2004, “we honestly felt that we were creating something no one else had done.” That something was cinematic and grim, a sound that was atmospheric and enveloping, one that promised to take the listener to the very edge of whatever it is that makes human beings want to live in order to peer at the bottomless abyss that lies just beyond. On the next record, 1981’s Faith, The Cure actually went over that edge. Like on this song, which describes in horrific detail that sensation of slowly slipping away from life. “One by one her senses die / The memories fade / And leave her eyes / Still seeing worlds that never were / And one by one the bright birds leave her.”
35. “Charlotte Sometimes” (1981)
Not to state the obvious but: “The Drowning Man” isn’t exactly a toe tapper! But it is the kind of song that fed into The Cure’s image and created a strange sort of mystique. And Smith was self-aware about this, to a kind of creepy degree. In a 1989 Spin interview, he copped to following a strange story out of New Zealand about two young Cure fans who had taken their own lives. Smith saw a headline that read “Gothic Cult Suicide,” and he cut it out and pasted it to the studio wall while they were making Disintegration.
“I know it’s tragic,” he said, “but at the same time it’s grimly funny because it obviously had nothing to do with us. We were just singled out. Everyone was joking about it being suicidal music and how I upset people with the words.”
In this Faith-era single, which definitely is a toe tapper, Smith imagines a more typical Cure fan: She is alienated from the outside world, so she escapes to her bedroom, where “she hopes to open shadowed eyes / on a different world.” A world that a song like “Charlotte Sometimes” offers.
34. “Six Different Ways” (1985)
Most people heard “Charlotte Sometimes” on the singles compilation Standing On A Beach, which became The Cure’s breakthrough hit in America after it was released in May of 1986. While on tour in support of the record, they performed a sold-out show at The Forum in Los Angeles that was marred by fan who repeatedly stabbed himself in the chest and stomach with a hunting knife because — as the Los Angeles Times reported — he was trying to impress a girl named Andrea.
This is the sort of thing that might happen at a Cure show in the mid-’80s! What sold Standing On A Beach and the proper LP that preceded it, The Head On The Door, was Robert Smith’s pop sense and the quirky image forwarded by music video director Tim Pope. In the press, Smith was christened “the thinking teen’s pin-up” and “a dark version of Boy George,” which seems odd until you listen to this charmingly off-kilter tune from The Head On The Door.
33. “Why Can’t I Be You?” (1987)
When I say their music videos were quirky, what I mean is that Robert Smith was game to put on a bear suit for the sake of having a hit. (He also allowed Lol Tolhurst to don blackface, which I’m going to pretend was a diabolical scheme to justify 86ing him from the band soon afterward.)
My favorite Cure album came out the year after The Forum incident. While consensus opinion favors Disintegration, I lean slightly toward Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me for the very reasons that the album is criticized. I like that it’s a little long, a little scattered, and a little inconsistent. I also appreciate that it doesn’t commit to a single mood like Disintegration does. Kiss Me is the most rock ‘n’ roll Cure record — it was recorded in the south of France, like Exile On Main St., at the same studio where Pink Floyd made The Wall — that also contains some of their purest pop tunes. Like this track, a slyly deranged love song that is as aggressive lyrically (Robert promises to hug his love to death!) as it is musically (I refer to the likably cheesy fake ’80s horns that sound beamed in from a Jim Belushi movie).
32. “The Perfect Girl” (1987)
Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me went platinum, and Smith later theorized that the secret to his success was the album’s appeal to women. And that was entirely planned. During the making of the record, the band would play their songs for their girlfriends. They dubbed them “The Panel.”
“They wouldn’t like ‘Fight,’ which was really not a girly song,” he told Rolling Stone. “But the more male members of the band were like, ‘This is rock! This is what we should be doing, not this other wussy stuff.’” An example of “this other wussy stuff” is this song, the sweetest tune on a record rich with funk experiments and extended mood pieces. The women loved “The Perfect Girl,” so it went on the album. And this paid off in unexpected ways.
“I remember on the Kiss Me tour we were in Los Angeles, and there were girls taking their clothes off and lying down in front of the bus to stop us from driving away,” Smith said. “And I remember thinking, ‘This isn’t really what I imagined I would be doing with this band.’”
31. “10:15 Saturday Night” (1979)
Three Imaginary Boys is Robert Smith’s least favorite Cure album, and I agree with him. Let’s start with the cover. Making pink the predominant color on a Cure LP is like printing Celine Dion’s name in the death-metal font. It’s just wrong. But Smith had no say in the matter, just as he had no control over the production or even which songs made it on the record. (That changed by the time of Seventeen Seconds.) On Three Imaginary Boys, The Cure sounds like what they were: A young, talented, but essentially formless British post-punk band. Nevertheless, on this song, they did successfully turn out the kind of zippy bubblegum gloom that countless Interpol wannabes attempted in the aughts.
30. “The Funeral Party” (1981)
When The Cure first emerged, the band that had already mastered atmospheric depression music was Joy Division. In a timeline where Ian Curtis does not kill himself, I can imagine Joy Division having a Beatles vs. Stones dynamic with The Cure throughout the ’80s. Though I can’t decide which band is which — The Cure seems more Beatlesque musically, but Joy Division came first and (in Beatles’ fashion) influenced The Cure more than the other way around.
When Robert Smith first heard the final Joy Division studio album, Closer, he thought to himself, “I can’t ever imagine making something as powerful as this,” he later recalled. “I thought I’d have to kill myself to make a convincing record.”
Thankfully, he didn’t do that. Instead, he made Faith and loaded it with songs like this one, in which he metaphorically offs himself.
29. “The Hanging Garden” (1982)
The album after Faith is where The Cure really went into “none more black” mode. Pornography is prized by serious Cure-heads as the apotheosis of their “dark” early period. It’s also their staunchest goth move, and it’s what permanently embedded them in that culture, much to Smith’s chagrin. (He’s long insisted that The Cure is not a goth band in interviews.) But The Cure were committed to the bit. They worked at night and did loads of cocaine to stay awake. (The recording budget set aside £1,600 for blow.) They even recorded in the bathroom “to get a really horrible feeling, because the toilets were dirty and grim,” Smith explained later. Perhaps those “dirty and grim toilets” explain the album’s booming, cavernous sound, which is apparent on this track, the album’s biggest “hit.” Music mixed by cokeheads tends to be trebly, but Pornography is all low end, like it’s being beamed directly from hell.
28. “The Lovecats” (1983)
On a recent Friday night, I tweeted that I was getting ready for the weekend by listening to Pornography. Several people — including at least one life-long friend — immediately replied to ask if I was okay. This is a natural response. I suspect that “Listening to Pornography” is listed in the DSM-IV as a potential sign of mental illness. But I swear that my brain was in a good place. That’s because I classify Pornography first as a “drug and/or party” record, rather than a “depression” record, which made it seem perfectly appropriate to put on while enjoying a Friday night cocktail. (And because I was also technically working, as I was binging on The Cure for this very column, I will be writing off that cocktail as a business expense for tax purposes.)
Now, if I said I was listening to Standing On A Beach, it wouldn’t seem like a red flag. It is The Cure’s “fun” record, particularly the songs like this one that came in the immediate aftermath of Pornography, when Robert Smith left his filthy bathroom and radically remade himself as a purveyor of goofy pop-gloom.
27. “Let’s Go To Bed” (1983)
My favorite thing about The Cure is their willingness – when the time is right — to be really stupid. The idea behind “The Lovecats,” according to Smith, was to do “a Disney take on jazz, based around The Aristocats.” This is not a thought that would have ever occurred to Ian Curtis. A similar impulse also drove “Let’s Go To Bed,” a synth-pop confection that was the first of their post-“pivot from Pornography” singles. Later, Smith would dismiss the song as “a joke” and “junk” that he purposely larded with sonic references to “everything I hated about music at the time.” Though I don’t really believe him. Perhaps he meant that writing extremely catchy songs like this came easy to him in the ’80s, which I can believe.
26. “The Caterpillar” (1984)
While it’s true that “Let’s Go To Bed” is not as “serious” as Pornography or Disintegration, The Cure’s stupid side derives from the same hard/soft duality that rests at their core. For such an incredibly specific band, they are also incredibly broad. The arc of The Cure’s critical appreciation over time has bent toward recognizing and rewarding this. But for many years, it was easy to dismiss them as crass or juvenile, especially in comparison to a band with whom they did have a rivalry: The Smiths.
Actually, it was really just about Robert Smith and Morrissey. (I doubt, for instance, that Simon Gallup cared at all about Andy Rourke.) As a student of musical rivalries, I feel confident in declaring that the Robert Smith vs. Morrissey feud is one of the greatest in rock history. The hate was genuine, and it was hilarious.
Let’s review some of the highlights: Morrissey started it by calling Smith a “whingebag” who copied his predilection for being photographed with flowers. Smith replied that “if Morrissey says not to eat meat, then I’m going to eat meat; that’s how much I hate Morrissey.” Morrissey then called Smith “a fat clown with makeup weeping over a guitar.” Smith rebutted by declaring that Morrissey is “a professional complainer.” Morrissey countered by slagging off Disintegration as “absolutely vile” and “a new dimension to the word ‘crap.’” To which Smith responded, “At least we’ve only added a new dimension in crap, not built a career out of it.”
Shoot this directly into my veins! Actually, the funniest part of this feud is when Morrissey took his initial shot The Cure, and he said, “I’ve never liked the Cure… not even ‘The Caterpillar.’” Why single out “The Caterpillar”? His phrasing suggests that this is The Cure song that’s the toughest for Morrissey to hate, the highest compliment.
25. “Disintegration” (1989)
For years, it was conventional wisdom that The Smiths – whose audience was generally older and more collegiate — were the better band. But lately that’s shifted pretty dramatically in The Cure’s favor. And that obviously has a lot to do with Robert Smith seeming like a decent and level-headed guy, and Morrissey not seeming like any of those things at all.
But there are also musical matters. The Queen Is Dead is a great record, but it is also intrinsically British and inextricably linked to the 1980s. Meanwhile, The Cure’s “critical favorite” equivalent, Disintegration, is not hemmed in by geography or era. It’s the kind of album that will always sound perfect if you hear it at 16, or years later if you first discovered it at 16.
There are many reasons for this. But for now I’d like to praise Simon Gallup. He plays his ass off on Disintegration. He plays his ass off on every Cure album but his bass lines are world class here. Gallup’s melodic flourishes on the title track alone make this eight-minute torture fest feel sleek and sexy.
24. “Untitled” (1989)
Here is another compliment for Disintegration: It is one of the great “compact disc albums” albums of all time. Robert Smith conceived it as one block of music, rather than a traditional record with two sides. (Or four sides, since Disintegration runs for 72 minutes.) As a long-time CD booster myself, I must insist that anyone tempted to purchase this record on vinyl will in fact be listening to Disintegration the “wrong” way. In order to play this album properly, you must go on eBay, find a used CD copy, purchase a CD boom box, and play it in your bedroom with the lights off.
The problem with Disintegration when comes to a list like this one is that it’s difficult to separate individual tracks from the whole. This song, for instance, the album’s final track, only truly lands if you have stuck with the album to the bitter end.
23. “Plainsong” (1989)
This is also true of the first song from Disintegration! It’s unnatural to put on this overwhelming scene-setter and not hear “Pictures Of You” immediately afterward!
22. “Open” (1992)
Disintegration made The Cure the world’s most introverted stadium-rock band, which was “everything that I didn’t want us to become,” Smith mused. But when you listen to Wish, the follow-up to Disintegration and the last album of their golden period, you hear Smith leaning into crafting brawny and riffy rock tunes like never before. It’s the album where The Cure came closest to embracing its role as “the weird U2” of alt-rock’s prime, starting with the opening track.
21. “End” (1992)
I happen to really like that aspect of The Cure, though Smith clearly had his doubts, along with many fans. There’s a perception that Wish is simply a retread of Disintegration, which is sort of true. But it’s also loaded with real hits and songs that feel like hits (like this one) if you were young when Wish came out. (Everyone had at least one friend who kept this CD in their car.) If I had to recommend a Cure album to a neophyte, it would probably be this one. Wish is the “normie” Cure record, the one where you don’t really have to know or care about the mythos in order to “get it.” That’s a weakness if you’re already in the cult, but it makes Wish an inviting listen for everyone else.
INTERMISSION
In 2011, Sean Penn starred in a movie called This Must Be The Place, in which he plays (I’m copying and pasting from Wikipedia here) “a middle-aged wealthy rock star who becomes bored in his retirement and takes on the quest of finding his father’s tormentor, a Nazi war criminal who is a refugee in the United States.” He also dresses exactly like Robert Smith.
I have never seen this movie, and I doubt I ever will, based on the clip I’m sharing below.
Let’s get back to the real Robert Smith.
20. “Boys Don’t Cry” (1979)
Sean Penn isn’t playing the real Robert Smith in that scene; he’s playing an idea of Robert Smith based on a simple-minded interpretation of his songs and persona. The real Robert Smith — as conveyed in media coverage of The Cure since the ’70s — is not some precious, soft-spoken man-child. This description from that 1989 Spin profile is typical: “He’s been called the last of the doomed poets, yet leads an incredibly mundane life, in which the highlights include soap operas, snooker, watching football, and eating curry.”
Smith’s greatest cultural achievement is how “the Robert Smith character” deconstructed masculinity without dismissing it outright, creating a new role model for future rock stars and teenagers alike. And that began almost immediately with this song, one of his earliest hits. He was not a gender bender in the mode of David Bowie. He was not androgynous like Prince. He was a dude who rejected the usual trappings of conventional dude-ness, while also steadfastly remaining a dude. For all the people who followed Robert Smith, this was liberating, because he offered affirmation that not feeling like a conventional dude was okay and probably even universal. Boys do cry, Robert told us. And they also wear makeup while watching football. These things do not have to be mutually exclusive if you are a Cure fan.
19. “If Only Tonight We Could Sleep?” (1987)
Now that we’re a little past the midpoint of this list, I must confess that I am committing a common mistake in Cure discourse: Focusing on Robert Smith at the expense of his bandmates. The bandmates are crucial! I have already praised the minimalist drumming of Lol Tolhurst and the fluid bass excellence of Simon Gallup. But what about the magnetic guitar playing of Pearl “Porl” Thompson, the capable timekeeping of Boris Williams, or any number of musicians that have moved through this band’s revolving door? Inside the liner notes of my favorite Cure album, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me, the entire band is credited as songwriters. And you can really hear them sprawl here, and in the process create a blueprint followed by the most epic alt-rock albums of the next decade. I can’t hear this song without immediately also thinking about The Fragile or Mellon Collie And The Infinite Sadness. (I also conjure up White Pony, probably because of this cover.)
18. “Catch” (1987)
These guys could rock. But I am once again grateful for “The Panel,” which I am sure insisted on including this sweetly “wussy” number, a psych-folk gem that spotlights the band’s ’60s British pop side.
17. “A Night Like This” (1985)
The “classic” era lineup of Robert Smith, Simon Gallup, Lol Tolhurst, Porl Thompson, and Simon Gallup came together on The Head On The Door. (This was preceded by 1984’s The Top, a de facto Robert Smith solo record that I really like in spite of it being a complete mess. Actually, I like it because it’s a complete mess, especially the all-time insane deep cut “Bananafishbones,” which I talked myself out of including here at the last minute.) Smith missed working with a band, so he mostly recorded The Head On The Door live, and the result sounded instantly like the iconic Cure vibe epitomized by this beloved warhorse.
16. “The Walk” (1983)
As we’ve established, even at their worst, The Cure was still better than almost every post-9/11 NYC band that stole from them. This song in particular invented approximately 127 bands in the aughts, all of them trashy and dumb. (Exactly one of them, The Bravery, qualifies as a guilty pleasure.)
15. “Primary” (1981)
What the imitators miss are the important nuances. It’s one thing for Carlos D to recognize Simon Gallup as an essential influence on his bass playing. But Interpol wouldn’t dare put two bass guitars on a song, like The Cure did here, revolutionizing the idea of rhythm and lead bass. Is it possible that Robert Smith was the best bass player in this band all along?
14. “From The Edge Of The Deep Green Sea” (1992)
The Cure’s “golden era” stretching from the mid-’80s to the early ’90s came apart on the Wish tour, when the daylight between Robert Smith and “the Robert Smith character” shrank to nothing. “I was very easily seduced into playing a role,” he said later. “People were nudging me along and I ended up becoming something other people wanted me to be and getting gratification from the fact that other people were enjoying themselves because of it.” Thompson and Williams left at the end of the tour, and The Cure entered their “well respected nostalgia act” phase.
This song evokes that ending for me. It’s The Cure at their most mammoth sounding — it’s a roar you can imagine subsuming Madison Square Garden with ease. But it’s also torn and frayed around the edges. It’s formidable, but not indomitable. But when it falls, the impact will be seismic.
13. “High” (1992)
I like the post-Wish albums. Even 1996’s Wild Mood Swings, which slots with The Top as a commonly acknowledged lowlight, has some jams. But there’s no doubt that the band lost something moving forward. It’s not just that they became unfashionable; they never were in fashion, which has worked to their advantage, because nothing ages worse than coolness.
The only thing that’s unusual about a rock band fading after their ninth album is that most rock bands don’t get to make nine very good-to-great albums in a row. (To paraphrase Benjamin Franklin: The only thing more certain than an artistic slide for a legacy band is death and taxes.) In the case of The Cure, the easy armchair psychologist diagnosis is that being “the real Robert Smith” became more important for Robert Smith than playing “the Robert Smith character,” and that took away a lot of the band’s edge.
I think that’s true, but I would also argue that by 1992 a song like “High” was so thoroughly a manifestation of The Cure’s sensibility that anything afterward — even the pretty good late-period albums The Cure puts out every four or 15 years — was going to pale in comparison. It just wasn’t going to get any more “Cure-like” than this. The band carries on, but Wish is where they completed their artistic mission.
12. “Lullaby” (1989)
Smith once claimed that “The Cure could produce two or three albums a year if I didn’t have to write the words.” But if he didn’t have to write the words, we would not have ended up with this song, the strangest Spider-Man reboot ever. Should we assume, based on “Lullaby,” that he is unfamiliar with the Marvel Comics character? Did he just coincidentally create a character called “the spiderman” who eats people at night? It’s like writing a song about a vampire and calling it “Superman.” Then again, Disintegration came out the same year as Batman, directed by Cure super-fan Tim Burton, so maybe this was just counter-programming?
11. “Fascination Street” (1989)
Goddamn, Simon Gallup didn’t have to go this hard.
10. “One Hundred Years” (1982)
I would have had to turn in my Cure fan card if I didn’t include at least one song from Pornography in the top 10. Naturally, I’m going with the iconic opening track, which includes the most immortal opening line in a Cure song that doesn’t involve someone asking to show me show me show me how to do that trick. If “Just Like Heaven” is the sound of the angels, this song is the devil’s work through and through. Though “It doesn’t matter if we all die” doesn’t really sum up who this band is, given their indestructible longevity.
9. “All Cats Are Grey” (1981)
Pornography is held up as the goth landmark, but I actually find Faith to be more convincingly bleak. (Like I said, Pornography scans for me as a “drug and/or party album,” not a depressing one.) At this stage, Smith would find lyrical inspiration by hanging out in churches, which definitely sounds like something a pretentious artist in his early 20s would do. But the power of Faith is that it really does sound like young kids moving into adulthood by confronting matters of life and death in real time. Unlike the performative decadence of Pornography, there is a chilly austerity to Faith that evokes a deep loss of innocence. And this song, which sounds like Smith trying to make his own version of Closer, typifies that feeling.
8. “A Letter To Elise” (1992)
At the time that The Cure put out Wish, their alt-rock peers like U2 and R.E.M. approached their middle periods by trying to reinvent themselves. But on “A Letter To Elise,” The Cure did the opposite, honing the stately epics of Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me and Disintegration in a new, perfectly realized package of heartbreak and romantic longing. “Yesterday, I stood and stared wide-eyed in front of you / And the face I saw looked back the way I wanted to / But I just can’t hold my tears away the way you do.” This boy simply cannot stop crying.
7. “Friday I’m In Love” (1992)
The ideal pairing of Robert Smith’s melodic genius and his fearless silliness. I know this song is probably intolerable for those who prefer the miserablist trifecta of Seventeen Seconds/Faith/Pornography, but the existence of “Friday I’m In Love” ensured that The Cure would never be a one-dimensional self-pity machine. Besides, it’s worth noting that he is only allowing himself one day of happiness. So let the man rhyme “blue” with “you.”
6. “Close To Me” (1985)
This is unquestionably one of the best Cure songs. The only debate is whether you prefer the original track from The Head On The Door or the remix by Paul Oakenfold that appears on 1990’s All Mixed Up. I’m going with the Head On The Door version, which benefits from the claustrophobic feel of the music that cloaks Smith’s conspiratorial vocal. But either version is a reliable romantic mixtape staple.
5. “In Between Days” (1985)
The paradox of this song is that it’s probably the first Cure tune I think of when trying to describe what they sound like. It has that rich blend of acoustic and electric guitars, a synth line that enters like a fanfare, and even a long instrumental intro. (It’s 49 seconds before Robert Smith sings, which is an eternity for a radio hit.) But this is also a pretty obvious rip-off of New Order! Only a band who loves bass tones as much as The Cure could so lovingly replicate Peter Hook and make that sound their own.
4. “A Forest” (1980)
The song where The Cure invented themselves. Not since The Brothers Grimm had a writer made wooded areas seem so foreboding.
3. “Lovesong” (1989)
The modern standard. When Adele and 311 are moved to cover the same song, you know you have accomplished something. But while other artists have turned “Lovesong” into bossa nova, reggae, emo or industrial metal, the original is the one where Robert Smith’s voice cracks when he reaches for a high note. And that’s the one that moves me the most.
2. “Pictures Of You” (1989)
The ultimate “languid instrumental introduction” Cure song. Smith and Gallup, the lifelong bros at the center of The Cure, create a symphony out of their meandering guitar and bass lines and it’s totally magical. (Those fluttery wind chime sounds emphasize how transportive this track is.) I don’t know many times I have immediately restarted “Pictures Of You” once the vocal kicks on. As great as the rest of the song is, it feels like gravy after the main course of that opening 1:50.
1. “Just Like Heaven” (1987)
I hate to be so obvious! But it’s the right choice! “Just Like Heaven” is a masterclass in songwriting and arranging. Few songs build as well: You start with that incredible bass line and drum part, you add rhythm guitar, you send that fanfare synth over the top, and then — cue the Vince McMahon “overwhelmed face” meme — you introduce an absolutely iconic lead guitar lick. And then Robert Smith starts singing one of the most memorable opening lines for any song ever.
“Just Like Heaven” gives you everything you could want from a Cure song. It somehow is perfect for radio while also having a long instrumental intro. The sentiments are romantic, but the vibe is melancholy. It gives you softness, but there’s also something hard about it. (Especially if we’re talking about the Dinosaur Jr. version, which is also a classic.) You can dance to it, and you can cry do it, and you can dance and cry to it at the same time. It evokes its time, and also feels timeless. Just like The Cure themselves.
Lizzo is one of the brightest stars in music, but that doesn’t prevent her from regularly dealing with conversations about her body, like when somebody shared a naked photo last month in an attempt to body-shame her. Now, she has taken a couple minutes to speak out about her fitness habits and goals.
In a TikTok post stitching a video from another user, Lizzo said, “Heavy on the not trying to escape fatness. Heavy… f*cking… on it. I just wanted to stitch this to show support to you because this creator, specifically, said, ‘I’m looking for people that I can resonate with.’ Very, very same.”
After explaining that he has “a very high-performance job” that requires “a lot of physical endurance,” she continued, “As I got more professional in my career, I started to take the physical part more seriously. I’ve always loved moving my body, I’ve always loved working out. […] I think a lot of people see a fat person that way and immediately just assume everything they are doing is trying to be thin. I’m not trying to be thin, I don’t ever want to be thin.”
Lizzo is a Warner Music artist. Uproxx is an independent subsidiary of Warner Music Group.
Conversation etiquette varies between generations, cultures and platforms. Younger age groups might take words once thought to be insulting and use them in an opposite way as a form of reclamation. In some countries, talking about politics or religion is considered rude, while in others it’s completely acceptable. And certainly, there are quite a few things muttered online that (hopefully) someone would never actually say out loud. (Though it might be a good practice to not type it, either.)
And yet, despite all the nuance, there are a few key approaches that create a widely agreed upon golden standard, such as active listening, having a clear purpose in what’s being said and, ultimately, showing respect for who is being spoken to. These simple guidelines can help a person be more engaging and charismatic, which can obviously be useful traits whether you’re looking to change the world or just connect with new people.
Likewise, there are fairly universal things that can be said in a conversation that instantly come across as unlikeable. Redditor u/theevilempire asked folks to list certain words or phrases that elicited an overall negative reaction when heard, and commenters didn’t hold back.
Some, if not many, of these commonly spoken expressions aren’t even inherently repelling, but are made that way simply because the person saying it is being hypocritical or insensitive. Others are just plain ol’ overused.
Without further ado, here are 10 phrases that make a person instantly unlikeable in a conversation:
This was the top answer, with the general agreement being that a person who uses this phrase is not only being unnecessarily cruel under the guise of honesty, but they’re also usually a person who can’t take criticism from anybody else.
“We all need to hear hard truths sometimes. That being said, usually people who are ‘blunt’ and ‘tell it like it is’ are exactly the same ones who can dish it out but can’t take it,” midget_rancher79 wrote.
Objective_Stick_2114 added: “Exactly. I think a person can be direct, to the point, and still be likeable. You don’t have to be hurtful or brutal to be considered direct. It’s the unsolicited judgemental comments that are most likely unnecessary, over-indulgent, and just mean. I find the most direct people actually do use a lot of discretion when speaking to others, and listen more than they speak.”
2. Any “I’m not [insert something here], but…” statements
People had a ton of examples for this. “I’m not racist, but…”; “No offense, but…”; “Don’t take this the wrong way, but…”;”Not to get political, but…” These statements are usually followed by things that would most likely be highly offensive/racist/politically leaning, etc, and therefore make the person saying it comes across like they wanted to insult someone without facing potential consequences.
3. Using mental disorders to describe a normal idiosyncrasy
“I’m bipolar and I hate when people use it as a badge of quirkiness. Nobody brags about climbing the walls at 3 AM, nobody should aspire to burning their life down, nobody can throw away every relationship/career/education and think it’s something to be proud of.” – levieleven
“Any time a legitimate diagnostic term becomes slang for something it cheapens the effectiveness and value of the word. Not to mention the dismissive effect it has upon those who actually deal with the condition. I’m so sorry that you and others are disrespected this way so often. You deserve validation and respect for taking care of yourself, not to have your issues trivialized.” – Drkphnx02
“I think self-proclaimed ‘empaths’ are either overestimating their own empathy or underestimating everyone else’s. And, only a person who lacks the ability to emotionally regulate or has narcissistic tendencies would try to make other people’s feelings all about them.” – HeyItsNotMeIPromise
“I work in the behavioral health field and this one drives me crazy…Just because you both wanted different things in life doesn’t make him selfish enough to be labeled with an actual personality disorder,oh my god. Just say you weren’t compatible and move on with your life.No offense to those who actually did genuinely date a narcissist.” – NightDreamer73
It’s another way of saying “If you can’t tolerate my downright abusive behavior, you don’t deserve my complete indifference towards you.” – quickshot125
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