Review by Alan Steenson for MPM
So, it’s Belsonic time of year again, but before I get properly stuck into this review, I feel a history lesson coming on… so buckle up.
Rewind to 1989. A youthful, and significantly skinnier me had a full-blown musical crush on Julianne Regan of All About Eve. When they were announced as support for The Cure, I was buzzing… largely for them, because if I’m honest, The Cure was not exactly top of my list back then.
Anyway, in true Northern Irish fashion of the era, our Ulsterbus from Belfast got hopelessly lost (this was before motorways, Google Maps, and apparently any sense of direction whatsoever). So, we arrived just in time to catch… approximately the last three and a half seconds of their set. Devastated doesn’t cover it. I was in what can only be described as a premium MEH mood.
Then The Cure walked on.
They opened with Plainsong.
Within 30 seconds, my soul left my body.
As my mate Phillip calls it, a “religious moment”. I’m not arguing. It remains one of the best gigs I’ve ever been to. So naturally, I’ve avoided seeing them again for 37 years in case they ruined it. Sensible? No. On brand? Absolutely.
Fast forward (somehow) 37 years, and I’m back, older, wiser, and with significantly less brown follicles in my barnet. I’ve stayed a fan, though I did drift a bit over the last few albums, except for Songs of a Lost World, which basically tapped me on the shoulder and went, “Remember Disintegration? You liked that, didn’t you?” Yes. Yes, I did.
I missed their last visit to Belfast, so there was no way I was letting this one pass.
Support came from Just Mustard and The Twilight Sad, the latter being excellent and immediately added to my mental “must investigate on Spotify later and pretend I always liked them” list.
The weather did its usual Belfast thing, threatening rain like it had a point to prove, but as The Cure walked on to a sold out Ormeau Park, the sun came out. Even the weather respects Robert Smith.
Current line-up: Simon Gallup (and his son Eden, because why not keep it in the family?), Roger O’Donnell, Jason Cooper, and Reeves Gabrels. The stage setup was massive, two huge HD screens and a gigantic video wall, all ready to beam moody visuals at a crowd absolutely gagging for it.
They opened with Alone, and I was instantly sold. Proper goosebumps stuff. Before Smith even sang, I was grinning like an idiot, and when he did, it was pitch-perfect. No tricks, no messing, just that unmistakable voice, still doing the business. He paced the stage like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing (because, well… he really does).
Pictures of You followed, and just like that, the entire park collectively went, “Ahh, here we go.” Smith and Gallup faced off like two old pros who’ve seen it all, and probably have.
High came next, quirky and brilliant, with Smith’s classic mannerisms reminding everyone that yes, he is still fully committed to every lyric like it personally owes him money.
A Night Like This, huge nostalgia hit. The Head on the Doorstill gets regular spins in my house, Lovesong had everyone singing….badly, loudly, and together, the way it should be.
The crowd, by the way, was a brilliant mix of ages, teenagers, veterans, and those of us somewhere in the middle going, “Wait… was 1989 really that long ago?”
The Last Days of Summersurprised me. I’d never really rated Bloodflowers, but live? It suddenly clicked. That’s the magic of gigs, you rediscover things you previously ignored. Like vegetables. Or sleep.
Burn was superb, dark, haunting, and absolutely nailed.
Then things escalated quickly.
Fascination Street, massive. Psychedelic visuals, neon flashes, proper sensory overload. And I’m going to say it… possibly even better than ‘89. There, I said it. Don’t tell the younger me.
Then Never Enough an absolute belter and completely unexpected. Smith on tambourine, reverb turned up to eleven, I was delighted. Genuinely still smiling thinking about it when typing this out.
Also, shout out to the overhead camera on Jason Cooper, giving us the drummer’s-eye view. Very cool, and a great reminder that drummers are far busier than they look.
Then came the “old friends down the pub” section: Push, In Between Days, Just Like Heaven. Pure joy. Push in particular, showed just how tight the band are, no rust, no nonsense.
Smith’s guitars deserve a mention too, some properly gorgeous, Cure-themed designs. And he still makes playing look annoyingly effortless. Not jealous. Not at all.
Play for Todayand A Forest landed perfectly as the light started to fade, the latter drenched in green lighting. Gallup extended the ending like he just didn’t want it to stop. Neither did we.
Cold… still not entirely for me. I tried. I really did.
From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea and One Hundred Years dipped things slightly for me again, but thenEndsong came along and absolutely flattened me.
What a track. Easily the standout from the last album, and live it was something else entirely. Big, emotional, proper lump-in-the-throat stuff. My mate was openly emotional beside me (no judgement, he wasn’t alone). That line “wondering what became of that boy, and the world he called his own…” hits differently when you realise you were that boy the self-reflection of those lyrics is something that should resonate with every grown up male there this evening.
Encore time.
Lullaby kicked things off, with web visuals, and a moment of pure comedy gold as the camera zoomed in on a bloke front row wearing a Spiderman mask. Commitment levels: elite… and thankfully it was played… if they didn’t he would have looked pretty darn stupid according to my mate.
Wrong Number, then The Walk, with Smith doing his signature head wobble during the Japanese baby lyric… and what can only be described as “dad dancing, but make it iconic”.
Mint Car popped up, a lovely surprise, especially for my nephew Ollie. Fairground visuals, big smiles all round.
Then came the final run, basically a greatest hits victory lap:
Lovecats (played properly this time, not that strange jazz experiment from ‘89),
Friday I’m in Love (pure serotonin),
Close to Me(Smith strolling about stage left to right without guitar, clearly loving life),
and Why Can’t I Be You, playful, energetic, and perfectly played.
And finally, Boys Don’t Cry.
Smith, a man of very few words, simply thanked everyone for coming after a big intake of breath… clearly not comfortable with audience communication. And you could tell, he meant it. No ego, no nonsense. Just genuine appreciation..and that cheeky smile he still has it.
And while, technically, Boys Don’t Cry…let’s just say there were a few emotionally compromised men (and women) scattered across Ormeau Park tonight.
Myself… absolutely fine, of course. I just something in my eye.
Robert Smith, take a bow.
National treasure. Legend and making Boys (and men) cry with happiness since 1976
Photography by MPM
