Do you ever listen to a song you've always liked, and feel it's the first time you've paid it proper attention? That's the case with my song of the day, "Close to Me" by The Cure.
I've always viewed "Close to Me"—one of the big singles off the band's 1985 Head on the Door album— as being one of the band's "lite" songs. I've considered the song a playful romp, due to its upbeat and buoyant tone and a keyboard riff that sounds like a child's toy xylophone.
The song is radio-friendly and imminently danceable. So you might be tempted to paraphrase that old Wendy's commercial and ask where's the goth? I think it can best be found in the fever dream lyrics of then heroin-addicted Cure frontman Robert Smith. He spends quite a bit of time in the song wishing he could be sure that "the head on the door" he once envisioned is only a dream.
Back to my latest musical reverie, in which I gained more perspective on "Close to Me." This song is actually intricate and genius, init? (I like to pretend I'm cool by nicking English slang.)
Between drum beats, synth claps and Robert Smith's just-finished-a-5K panting, it's percussively effervescent. It's also quite the wall of sound, with an airy symphonic flute eventually descending followed by some unexpectedly fat and jazzy horns.
Call me impulsive, but I'm moved to make a New Year's Resolution. I plan to listen to The Cure's entire catalog in a state of mindfulness. Better late than never, and also namaste.
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