I just realized yesterday something I'd forgotten, that "Six Different Ways" by The Cure, off the lads' 1985 album The Head on the Door, is the best song in the world.
The writer in me wants to somehow evoke the production, which ranges from sweeping violin to introspective but upbeat toy instrument riffs. To say there's heroin and fairy dust on this album. To risk scoffing by suggesting that, just maybe, the production on this sound is equal if not better to: The Beatles on "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band"; Phil Spector's girl group wall-of-sound; and Quincy Jones dance floor-on-fire micro- to macro layering on Michael Jackson's "Thriller."
But that would be pedantic, and very possibly inaccurate. How does a music writer even try to describe Robert Smith and The Cure. (Don't get me started on the weird charm of Robert Smith side-project The Glove, whose "Blue Sunshine" album is a mashup of The Cure and Siouxsie and the Banshees. That's saying something)
But instead I've decided to keep my loop-accompanying review simple and heartfelt.
I just realized yesterday something I'd forgotten, that "Six Different Ways" by The Cure is the best song in the world.
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