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The Cure
in Argentina
Rob Smith or Liz Taylor?
Make Up… |
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Err, a little
over the top, perhaps? I always thought of Smith as grumpy and brooding rather
than diabolically cunning and malevolent. But I have an eerie feeling I may be
wrong... |
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How does Argentina view the Cure? Judge
for yourself. |
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Robert Smith by Augusto Costhanso |
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Published in Rolling Stone – Argentina,
Uruguay, Chile edition, April 2003 |
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"There
was rioting.
It was the only time with
the Cure
when
I was
really
scared, because we were locked up in a cellar, we could smell
burning,
we listened to sound
of the
sirens and thought: '
we are not
going to leave here
alive'.
It
took us
three or four
hours to arrive at the stage.
As we
began the show, the people that were
outside began breaking
down the police
fences.
It
was really horrible. We
did
a furious version
of '
Killing an Arab'
and left running for
our lives."
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Smith will NEVER return
to the land of Borgés. Count on it. Here’s what he wrote for “Melody
Maker” May 30th, 1987: |
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I do another couple of interviews and am given on Argentinean Team strip,
a bunch of blood-red roses, and a message from a man who looks insanely the same
as Tootsie... And then the sound of breaking glass.
There has apparently been
some 'confusion', we are told, over ticket sales - 19,000 people have them, but
only 17,000 can officially enter the ground, and, in consequence, there are more
than a few irate punters trying to get in by other methods: a full scale riot
ensues, with numerous police cars rolled, several security dogs killed, and a
hot dog man suffering a heart attack before we go onstage. For almost two hours
we play amidst deafening bedlam, before rushing off, screaming, into the car and
away. It is a while before our heads stop shaking, and we end up having an early
breakfast in the bar before bed... |
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The noise above increases inexorably, and we
look nervously at each other as we are told that tonight, disregarding another
ticket 'confusion', there will be 'no trouble' ... The crowd surges forward as
we go onstage, and despite the higher barricades and extra police (or, more
exactly, because of the higher barriers and extra police), battle begins. By
half-way through the set there are several uniformed men on fire, with most of
their comrades taking shelter under the stage from the ceaseless and merciless
rain of coins, seats, stones and glass.
Unfortunately not all of it is
accurately thrown, and Porl is the first of us to be hit: the longer this goes
on, the more bitter we become, and when a coke bottle cracks me full in the face
during '10.15' I stop the song and go a touch berserk. We end with a gloriously
punky thrash through 'Arabs-a-go-go' and then we are away. Outside the ground is
not unlike downtown
Beirut, and we are
more than relieved to reach the sanctuary of the hotel. I go to bed shattered,
the others spending varying amounts of time in the bar while I dream of
murder... |
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The Cure
in Argentina
Rob Smith or Liz Taylor?
Make Up… |
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