When was it considered okay to only have eight tracks on an album? Today that’s called an EP, but what the hell do I know; The Cure seemed to get away with it on a regular basis. This is the one where I really start to hear that “Robert Smith” voice. You know the one. The one that whines and mopes and sounds like he’s crying when he orders fish and chips. I used to imitate that voice all the time in college when just going about my regular day. It’s fun, you should try it. It’s a little banshee for me, this album, but it does engender the whole Cure aesthetic. I wish they would find somebody, now that they have this more lush sound, to twiddle the knobs a little and release them from the murk.