It really rankles and roils, riling me relentlessly, gets my goat and grinds my gears that a ghastly ghost greedily grabbed some of my greatest grooves, several superb sounds from my marvelous music menagerie, including The Cure’s Disintegration on vinyl, vanishing without a visible vestige. It’s a haunting hijacking that has me howling hauntingly, harboring hopes that horrific hoodlum returns my rightful recordings. Relievingly, I’ve retained Robert Smith’s resonant refrains on compact disc, considerably consoling my celestial lamentations.
The Cure’s Robert Smith was born on this date in 1959. Even if you don’t have the disease, we have The Cure on today’s playlist.
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