Never Enough

PDF EBook by Jeff Apter

EBook Description

No one lifts their hands
No one lifts their eyes
Justified with empty words
The party just gets better and better

I went away alone
With nothing left
But faith. Never Enough PDF EBook
The Cure's "Faith"

But first the hyperbole. The most fudgin' flippin' to darn worst music biography book I've ever read. I've been bored in a fabric store less bored than this. I could Houdini with my hands behind my back submerged in the sea with the key at the bottom of a different ocean write a better book about The Cure than this. In my sleep. When my dog didn't take no from an answer from smaller dogs at the dog park I walked away whistling. Not my dog. I don't know this Jeff Apter guy. He is dead to me. But first my review and then I'll whistle. I should have gone with a different whistling analogy. I can't stand tuneless whistling that sounds like it's the tv static noise to fill in the space for a person who bores the heck out of you who had been thinking some full- PDFfilling stuff yourself before they started torturing you with the shrill noise. I don't get the point of Never Enough as a biography of The Cure any more than I understand people who have to stand right beside me and whistle something that isn't even a song because they don't know what else to do. Why does this exist? Since as a little girl I discovered the band on an episode of Beavis and Butt-head I will now make my catatonic what the hey face. I feel dumber and dirtier and on a couch eating stale nachos. Hey, what the hey? (My apologies to anyone if my mouth frothing hit those in the front row.)

Oh yeah, I read this because I didn't know what else to do. I was too tired to concentrate on much and blah blah I found music trivia soothing a long time ago and return to this method again and again despite that it doesn't work anymore. The Beatles Anthology was a long time ago. It isn't going to happen for me. I won't be able to tell myself stories about German fans staring at the boys while they are sweating night after night. Something good that happened once isn't happening right now as if I'm in a tv episode about a time traveler.

Blah blah blah some stuff culled from ancient official Cure website press material blah blah maybe some 1980s official biography Ten Imaginary Years that I remembered as if I had read it yesterday and not when I was twelve blah blah blah Robert Smith talked a lot of poop and then he talked more poop to contradict the poop that he had already pooped. I remember one (it doesn't appear in this book) that he bought a diary farm because he loved to drink milk so much. Nothing as good as the yarns spooled by Tom Waits when he sits down at the live needle. Last year I read a biography on Waits (The Wild Years) that respected his privacy and took the Virginia Woolf truth in lies (I like this version of truths myself) approach. The book was not the Tom Waits book of my dreams because it didn't transform me into the kind of person who is so comfortable in themselves that to live in imagination and reality to support the other is possible. I can't live without the fantasy and I will probably try to distract myself with shitty music books instead of making real life steps to fix anything. I want to be Tom Waits and survive in both. But it is unfair to expect that from a book. I'm sorry to Jay S. Wilds for that vicious review that I wrote on his book last year. He's probably forgiven me by now. So blah blah blahing again Robert Smith kicked everyone out of the band, this guy was WRONG he said guitar bands were on the way OUT! In the year this song came out it meant... That has nothing to do with The Cure. There's an entire chapter on the forgettable 1998 South Park episode featuring Robert Smith. This time Robert Smith treated everyone to rounds of booze! Mary Poole (Smith's childhood sweetheart and wife) commandeered a bar! Lol Tolhurst pretended he was Boy George for hours and hours and hours and it was an ensuing riot of belly laughs. Apter is probably the most annoying any time he drools over stupid parties and when stupid Melissa Der Auf Maur announced them at some stupid MTV function when they awarded them. MTV actually seems to matter in the world this books is set in. It's all about the hits, the pop making machine. The glitz got in my eye.

But did you know that if you love music you're a psychotic freak? Sometimes it's all important to be greeted by screams in Brazil and then the fans are assholes for cheering in a stadium for some later show. Oh my god Wild Mood Swings wasn't as big of a hit as expected (because it wasn't a good record). But the fans were driving him to death! In this book Robert Smith writes music to say fudge off to the fans. I'm gonna write a poppy Let's go to Bed because I don't like that people liked the earlier albums Faith, Pornography and Seventeen Seconds. But later I'm gonna write gloomier songs because Wish was too popular and I wanna chase off the come-lately fans. What is this stuff? At one point Apter belittles the fans who were disappointed to have to purchase two back lot albums they already owned to have access to a new release of live songs (Entreat). What monsters!

As Smith did his best to soothe the savage Cure fan...


I remember some of how this stuff went down and I recall that Smith's complaints were directed to journalists (Hey, Apter?) and not fans of his music. Why would you write music with the sole purpose of driving away people who you thought liked you for the wrong reasons? To keep people off guard? And then later turn around and say you want to chase off these newer people and it was the older people you loved all along.

I would say that the book should have been about the music. But not written by Apter. His musical insight is as if he walked into a room and could only see that the lights were off. He would walk into another room and say the same thing. He wouldn't stay and he wouldn't leave. There would be a hallway stretching past the eye could see and for him it would be nothing because he was blind. Or maybe someone would uncork a bottle of champagne and he could write about how neat that was. Hey, Robert Smith wanted an expensive sports car for his wife. I'm rolling my eyes. It makes a sound in the dark like an audible sigh.

When I was seventeen I read a Robert Smith quote that music didn't mean anything after you were seventeen years old. I remember thinking that was dog poop. It was probably a thing to run the mouth off about because someone was listening to you or you had to fill some noise. If you play three hour shows, play the old albums in their entirety in one night, you sing it like you still mean it. That music doesn't bleed out of you on the clicking of a tock. Unless you are listening for only that sound, the line drawn at the end sound. I don't like these angles. If Smith was in a position that he hated to be that person was it anyone else that put him there than himself? If Apter was right that his sole driving motivation was maneuvering on what he thought others wanted how could it have been anything else? But it wasn't that. If Apter was right and that the song "End" is a "Fuck off" to "fans" who held him too responsible to look into the abyss for him, expected the answers. Isn't it about you if you are looking into the faces of a sea of strangers? What you see is in your own eyes. I wasn't listening to The Cure in my bedroom at three am in the dark (I could find any of them by reaching out my hand. I knew them by heart) and expecting anything of Smith more than being another person who lives in a world with other people and tries to look or listen to anything at all that might mean people are more real than what you're just going to make up. I think Apter is a moron looking for an angle for his badly written book. The songs don't feel that way. If his later song from Bloodflowers (their only album after Wish that I like) mourns (and I always thought he was wrong. You cannot lose what is yours if you tell it to someone else) feeding the fire, everything he has given to others to give life to the songs. I don't think of it as selling your soul to the devil and what you win is a hell of a pop song and that love is no longer yours. How could he sing Faith and it is still true? Because it's not true.

The factual inaccuracies abound. Apparently there's a song on Faith about Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast and then in the end notes he alludes that The Drowning Man ALSO references it loosely. Um, The Drowning Man is about Fuchsia that's the Gormenghast song. Apparently it is about the third book in the series, Titus Groan. No, it was about events from the second book Gormenghast and Titus Groan is the FIRST book. Other Voices isn't a nod to Other Voices, Other Rooms though it is a fantastic book ("Smith is no Truman Capote" says Apter). He criticizes the title of Charlotte Sometimes as unsubtle for a song about Penelope Farmer's book Charlotte Sometimes. Sighs. The Smith literary living songs were important to me. When I was young I took my list of these books and I had all of these books that would mean so much to me. When Robert Smith sings about Fuchsia that he wanted to save her that is how I feel about books that I read as if I could have lived them. What is all of this stuff about crass market appealing to a Goth crowd because you wrote about Gormenghast?

I was wrong I have more hyperbole. If Apter made another comment about "goths" and "the overcoat brigade" I was going to paint a frown on my face with gothy black lipstick. Exclamation point.

Ok, The Cure was never going to be an especially sexy band- their female fans would rather comb their hair than fuck them- but their weird new look was tailor-made for Generation MTV.


Something I've always loved about The Cure is that their b-sides are as good as the album songs. I didn't feel throw away tracks and filler. Isn't that important to write about a band? Doesn't that say something about a writer and his relationship with his songs?

Maybe it says something about them as a band that Smith had almost total control musically over everything. It said something to me that band members couldn't play much of anything, roadies were filling in and once they had a contest for their most insipid (my opinion) member Jason Cooper. Lol Tolhurst (true story my first website I ever visited was The Cure website and the fans were mean to me when I asked why they kept saying his name all of the time. I didn't know that laugh out loud was not a nickname for Lawrence). He was useless and he was bitter he was kicked out of the band. He sued for the name and the band couldn't put out material for four years. From the biz side that's important and from the artistic side it isn't because it was always Robert's music.

I would have thought it would maybe be important that Smith's most impassioned albums were written before he turned thirty and again at forty. If he felt complicated things about life after he was working from the moment when you go "Fuck it" and jump. I know that feeling and it resonated with me, to be open that way. His claims that he's unlike Morrissey, a fun loving guy. He would say that he lived life and didn't get fat. Except he was and he was addicted to drugs and alcohol all of their time. I love his humor (though it's nonsense that Morrissey doesn't have a sense of humor). I don't know why they let a guy with his emotional chart set to "bleak" and "pop" near this. It got me down to read this. Money, love me but you suck if you aren't famous don't love me. That's not The Cure. The Cure is cutting open your heart and laughing in the mirror for a first time in a year. I'll feed it to anyone. His songs are about stories and the ugliness of wanting and how you feel ugly and how you feel they are beautiful and when you shift and see what you thought you were seeing wasn't them. The despair in that, and how it is better that you can shift and what you thought you saw wasn't as good as what could be there, surprising in another person, and surprise yourself. There's always something left, you don't burn in the fire. You get up. I freaking hate this book.

Now that I know that I'm breaking to pieces
I'll pull out my heart and I'll feed it to anyone
Crying for sympathy
Crocodile cry for the love of the crowd and the three cheers from everyone
- The Cure's 'Disintegration' Like this book? Read online this: Freud Blah Blah Blah, I racconti di Pietroburgo.

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