Credit: Far Out / YouTube Still
Wed 20 May 2026 18:30, UK
Throughout his career, Robert Smith has employed some odd methods when it comes to getting the best out of The Cure. Whether it’s inspiring doom in his bandmates or prompting destruction in himself as a mind game, the act of evaluating or appreciating his own art doesn’t run smoothly.
It seems that a level of insecurity is in-built to the job title when it comes to artistry, as in order to write anything true, honest or at all moving, there needs to be vulnerability. A good writer has to look inside themselves and hold a mirror up to corners that might be a little ugly, and if you’re doing that so well that it becomes your profession, the balance of keeping the insecurity in check while also celebrating your success must be a difficult dance.
For Smith especially, so much of The Cure’s biggest hits obviously come from the deep depths of his soul. “I had two choices at the time, which were either completely giving in or making a record of it and getting it out of me,” the singer said about the band’s 1982 album, Pornography, where it felt like the options were either death or art. But at the same time, he truly felt like that record would surely be their last, that it was all surely too painful and difficult to go on under the weight of the pressure.
That dilemma is a common one for him. Almost every Cure record seemed to come along with quotes from the band talking about the end times, as even Smith would taunt his bandmates, telling them it was in order to get a high-intensity, end-of-days performance. To him, that existential panic became a great fuel, as unhealthy as that seems.
But once you’re in that mindset, how do you get out? When Smith thrives on worrisome creativity or believes in the power darkness can have, how do you ever flip to the other side, sit back and think ‘actually, that was really good!’
Those moments of celebration are necessary, but as all artists know, the mentality for them is often hard to find. It’s far easier to fall into a cycle of self-critique or always wanting more, but at one point in each The Cure set, there is a beam of light.
“When I sing, ‘It’s just like a dream’, and Roger starts doing the piano bit, I look at people, and everyone suddenly looks over at the piano, and I look at the crowd, and it’s one of those really lovely moments,” Smith told Rolling Stone after they asked him outright if he knew that ‘Just Like Heaven’ is a perfect song.
Further reading: From The Vault
For once, he admitted, “Yeah, it’s one of a handful that when you’re playing it in front of people [that I think that]”. Able to see the beauty and power of the timeless anthem, he felt it right from the moment it was made as he recalled, “When I wrote it, I thought, ‘That’s it. I’ll never write something as good as this again’”.
But that’s when the cynicism comes back in. “I remember saying to the others in the studio, ‘That’s it. We might as well pack up’,” he said, as if that would be the only great song they’d make. “Thankfully, we didn’t,” he added, at least able to let a little light in and let the insecurity fade around this one powerful track.
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