Adolescence: the disease for which there is no cure

Keep your eye on Mallory O'Donnell; he's got the goods. In this reevaluation of The Cure's rather forgotten 1990 remix album Mixed Up, Mallory evokes without condescension the adolescence mindset for which Robert Smith's miserabilism serves as the ideal soundtrack. The essay is too long, and its diffuseness makes certain ideas hard to parse (Mixed Up representing "the exact moment at which profound self-reflection commingles with pure sensuality" sounds right, even though I'm not sure what he means), but, of course, so is adolescence; and for many of us in high school Robert Smith's so-smooth-it-even-feels-like-skin fantasias conveyed the erotic languor which sure smelled great when we were bored of Morrissey's strained attempts at distance. Conveyed it too well, perhaps: these days The Cure remind me of earnest conversations in vacant lots, watching the video of "High" after mediating a frigid confrontation between two best friends, and my own strained attempts at heterosexual courtship.

(As for Mixed Up: the place to go for the super remixes of "Lullaby" and "Hot! Hot! Hot!!" and one of the best singles, "Never Enough." The mild heresy of a "rock" band issuing a remix album in 1990 now looks like a shrewd hipster move -- now looks like orthodoxy).