“I said no, but I knew that they would probably go ahead anyway unless I made it very obvious that we were doing something.” The Cure may even make their first album since 2008, but we will get to that. “I knew a few people wanted to – what’s a nice way of saying exploit? – celebrate the 40th anniversary with projects,” he says. Smith has been rummaging through boxes for a documentary directed by regular collaborator Tim Pope. This year, the Cure are marking the 40th anniversary of their first concert under that name (they started in 1976 as Malice) with a flurry of activity. “I think my opening gambit was, ‘We can both agree you’ve never done anything good since 1982,’” he says, wincing.įor all his easy, blokeish charm, Smith means as much to millions of people as Bowie meant to him. “It was totally surreal, explaining Camus to a sea of utterly bemused faces.” Or the time that he interviewed David Bowie for Xfm and arrived so drunk that he proceeded to talk over his hero for two hours. Like the time, during the first Gulf war, when he held a press conference to explain that the Cure’s 1979 debut single Killing an Arab was a reference to L’Etranger and not, as some US radio DJs thought, an Islamophobic anthem. I thought, ‘I’ve made a terrible mistake.’” He clasps his hands over his face, just like he does in photographs.įor someone who once sang “It doesn’t matter if we all die”, Smith has an endearing relish for the bathetic comedy of life. “I was asked to leave, for no reason other than I wasn’t welcome. In 1989, at the height of his fame, he moved to the quiet south-coast village where he still lives with his wife, Mary, and gamely attended a meeting in the village hall. Even without the warpaint, Smith finds it hard to blend in.