Fact #117404

THREE IMAGINARY BOYS

by Johnny Black

Ten year old Robert Smith of Crawley, Sussex, was given his first guitar as a birthday present in 1969, but several more years would have to pass before he came into possession of the instrument that would change his life.

“I’d already taught myself to play a bit by reading Bert Weedon’s Play In A Day books using my older brother’s guitar,” he explains, “which is why there’s an instrumental at the end of the TIB album called ‘The Weedy Burton’. It’s a sort of tongue in cheek tribute to Bert… ”

The arrival of that first guitar, a nylon strung acoustic, plunged him into several years of formal classical tuition during which, “I picked up the basics of right hand picking, got comfortable with sight reading, but… I was always desperate to get an electric!”

That ‘electric’ finally arrived Christmas 1971, a semi-acoustic, double cut-away red Epiphone, given to him by the guitarist in an ad-hoc ensemble known as the Crawley Goat Band, with whom Robert occasionally played on Sunday afternoons. “I got the guitar but, unfortunately, I didn’t have an amp,” he points out. He was forbidden from connecting it to the family hi-fi so, naturally, that’s exactly what he did. “I figured out how to make a jack to phono lead, plugged it in and at last… I rocked!”

The Epiphone carried him through his early bands, Obelisk and Malice, and on to the creation of Easy Cure and songs like Fire in Cairo and Meathook, all composed at home. Some drew inspiration from his domestic surroundings.

“10:15 Saturday Night was written at the table in our kitchen,” he recalls, “watching the tap dripping, feeling utterly morose, drinking my dad’s home made beer... I was supposed to be going out with a group of friends, but my evening had fallen apart, and I was back at home feeling very sorry for myself!”

The evolution of this Cure classic is documented here by the inclusion on the extras CD of not just Smith’s home demo, complete with Hammond organ and bossanova drumbeat, but of the subsequent Chestnut Studios demo, where the song approaches its final form.

By this point, the band was known as The Cure and Smith was the proud owner of a new but suitably punk cheap Top 20 solid bodied electric, which he employed for some of the tracks on Three Imaginary Boys.

“I played the Top 20 on quite a few Three Imaginary Boys’ songs,” he says. “I had that and a WEM Clubman amp; attitude and portability were my watchwords!”

However, Chris Parry, the former Polydor Records A + R man who had signed The Cure to his newly formed Fiction label, was “horrified to discover that I intended to use the Top 20 for the whole record, because he reckoned it only had one sound.” The second day of the TIB sessions, Parry took the band shopping and Smith acquired a Fender Jazzmaster and a Roland JC160 amp.

Parry’s plan for the album was absurdly simple. “He told us to go in the studio and play everything that was in our set; just play it all live, and that’s the first album.”

The Jam, who Parry had earlier signed to Polydor, were then in London’s Morgan Studios making their album All Mod Cons. Being tight on budget, Parry arranged for The Cure to sneak in to Morgan under cover of darkness and secretly record their debut. Mike Hedges, one of Morgan’s rising young technicians, took on the role of engineer, thus beginning a lengthy creative relationship with The Cure.

“We did it in five nights. After The Jam went home, we would come in around ten and work until the morning. Michael and I used our own gear, but Lol played Rick Buckler’s drums. I remember he broke the snare skin on the last night; disaster... we ended up patching it with chewing gum, hoping no-one would notice!”

Working overnight started Smith on the nocturnal lifestyle that he still enjoys. “To me, one of the best things about being in a band was not having to get up in the morning,” he explains. “Getting up to me at that age represented ‘a job’ so if I didn’t have to get up, I wasn’t ever working!”

Finding material to record was no problem because, as Smith points out, “We had a big repertoire, about thirty songs, and we recorded most of them. We did twelve, all single takes, on the first night. Many of them had evolved over quite a long period. For example Its Not You was written about eighteen months before. I’ve got tapes of us live in 1977, and we’re playing a lot of the punkier ones in some shape or form.”

What might have presented some difficulties was drummer Lol Tolhurst’s ineptitude. “We didn’t try to do anything too complicated because we knew he couldn’t cope with it,” says Smith. In some ways, however, Lol’s limitations proved to be a blessing in disguise because The Cure’s third member at the time, Michael Dempsey, had ambitions to turn the band into power pop clones, complete with weird time signatures and quirky arrangements. “Michael would try to teach Lol how to do vile XTC rhythms,” laughs Smith, “and he just couldn’t do it, which was excellent, because it meant I didn’t have to argue with Michael too much!”

As the sessions progressed, however, Smith found himself alarmed by another aspect of the work in progress. “I remember going into the control room to listen to it and thinking, ‘This doesn’t sound like us at all.’ It had this weird reverb all over it, and I wanted it to be very natural and real.” Left to his own devices, he admits, he would have made a much warmer-sounding record and yet, in retrospect, he recognises that the icy veneer imposed by Chris Parry gave Three Imaginary Boys, “a distinctive character, because it didn’t sound like anybody else at the time. It had a very stark quality to it, and as first albums go, I figured it was pretty good; it just wasn’t the noise I really wanted to make.”

Smith’s true problems didn’t start until the recording sessions were over. “I disagreed with a few of the songs Chris chose to put out, like World War, which was a terrible piece of rubbish that Lol had helped write.” Nor was Smith happy to see the Dempsey sung Hendrix cover version, Foxy Lady, appearing on the album track listing. “It was in the repertoire because we did it at rehearsals, but I always thought it was a crap adaptation. From that point on, I never allowed anyone in the studio in the role of ‘producer’. I figured we might only get to make one more record and I couldn’t bear the idea of somebody else making mistakes on our behalf.”

Robert’s worries didn’t stop with the choice of material. “I didn’t like the artwork either - the household appliances stuff - which was an idea from the Polydor art department, this concept of The Cure being a band with ‘no image’. The album just arrived in the post with that cover, and they’d done it all without consulting us.”

On June 2, 1979, the album entered the UK album chart where it would peak at No44, a satisfactory placing for a debut album, even though it didn’t match the critical acclaim which included, for example, a five star review in Sounds and the Melody Maker running it’s review under what would prove to be a remarkably prescient headline - “The 80s Start Here.”

Robert Smith too was already looking to the future. “Even before Three Imaginary Boys had been released, I’d written a lot of the songs for Seventeen Seconds. It was my response to ‘the first album experience’. Once we’d recorded TIB, got it out of the way in a sense, I felt The Cure was about to start for real... ”
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Robert Smith of The Cure, interviewed by Johnny Black about Three Imaginary Boys.

HOW DID THE CURE PERCEIVE ITSELF AT THE TIME OF THE FIRST ALBUM?
Robert Smith (The Cure) : We’d parted company with our first guitarist Porl Thompson in the spring of the year when we signed to Fiction, 1978, and when we went into the studio, we hadn’t played outside of the Crawley area, so we were very inexperienced, but Bill (Chris Parry) wanted us to go in the studio and just play everything that was in our set. Just play it live, and that would be the first album.

We did it in three nights in Morgan Studios. The Jam, who Bill had signed to Polydor, were in there during the day making an album so, after they went home, we would come in around ten and use their equipment, and work until five in the morning. I used my own guitar, but Lol played Rich’s drums and broke the snare drum skin on the last night. We didn’t know what to do. We just patched it up and hoped he wouldn’t notice.

It was the first album where Mike Hedges graduated to engineer from tape op and teaboy.

We’d drive up from Crawley about 8 o’clock and then sit in the pub waiting for the phone call to tell us we could go into the studio. We were sworn to secrecy because Bill said we’d get into serious trouble if anybody found out.

It was actually Morgan Studio 4, down a side street, in a row of houses. They stored a lot of the tapes there, and it had a very distinctive smell, a combination of electrical equipment, new tape and floor polish that they used on the wooden floor, and whenever I walked in there, I got like an adrenaline rush, and the smell was a big part of that.

I remember going in for the first time and seeing all the mikes set up, and all the gear, and it was such a big thing. We’d only used grungy little four track back rooms before, and this was a real professional studio, a big room.


SO WAS THAT THE START OF YOUR NOCTURNAL LIFESTYLE?
Yeah. I really enjoyed it. To me, the whole benefit of being in a band was not getting up in the morning. Getting up represents work. If you don’t have to get up, you’re not at work.

The songs had evolved over quite a long period. It’s Not You had been written about eighteen months before we recorded it. I’ve got tapes that we must have made in the Rocket in 1977, and they have It’s Not You, Grinding Halt, some of the more punky ones. We had a huge repertoire, about thirty songs, and we recorded them all for that album. We did sixteen songs, all single takes, on the first night. Apart from a couple of extra guitar parts, there weren’t even any overdubs.

10.15 Saturday Night was written at the table in our kitchen, watching this tap dripping, feeling utterly morose, drinking my dad’s home made lager. I’d fallen out with someone in a group of people I was supposed to be going out with that night, so the evening fell apart, and I decided to stay at home and feel sorry for myself.

The original demo of 10.15 is on the extras disc. I recorded at Chestnut Studios it on a Hammond organ with a bossa nova drumbeat, totally bizarre.

We had this suite of songs, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, a real low point in my life. I think we performed it once at The Rocket, to stunned silence. I have a tape of it. It was totally unrehearsed and quite a few steps too far for us. Brave in a way, but stupid. Thankfully, we only recorded Winter, which was one of the songs I took home with me. I remember listening to it and thinking, ‘This can’t exist’. I got Mike Hedges to strip it off the master tape. It still appeared on the tape box so, for years, everybody thought it was there, but if they’d listened to the tape, it wasn’t there at all. There was another one called Faded Smiles, really awful, sung terribly, dreadful words, just crap. I sensed that if I left these things in the care of the record company, they would be released. Hedges understood, so he sided with me, which is to his credit because basically I was stealing those tapes, which Chris Parry had paid for.

We were very well rehearsed, quite tight, so the performances were good, although the limitations of Lol’s playing didn’t help, but we didn’t try to do anything too complicated because we knew he couldn’t cope with it. In some ways it saved us, because Michael would be trying to teach Lol how to do six-eight rhythms, and he just couldn’t do it, which was excellent, because it meant I didn’t have to argue with Michael too much.

We treated those sessions like a live gig. If we made a mistake, we kept playing. It held everything together sonically, because there was no messing about, trying to get different sounds.

So Chris Parry told us to record everything, and then from that we’d choose which tracks went on the album. So we did that, and we had some real bummers, really crap songs, like World War, terrible rubbish. But that got put on the early copies of Boy’s Don’t Cry by Chris.

From that point on, I never allowed anyone in the studio in the role of producer because I thought we might only get to make one more record and I couldn’t bear the thought of somebody else choosing the wrong songs.

I stole the tapes from that session. On the extras disc there’s a couple of songs that Chris thought weren’t good enough to go on the album.

Chris Parry and Mike Hedges actually went back into the studio without us, for a fourth night, for final production, but that was also partly in order to be able to put a credit on the album, made at Morgan Studios, because the first three nights were unofficial.

I was upset by the whole of the first album, really. Nothing had my approval – the song choice, the running order, the production … I didn’t like the artwork, the household appliances, which was an idea by Bill Smith of the Polydor art department, this whole idea of The Cure being a band with no image. I kind of led us into it, because they wanted originally just to use a shot of the band, fresh faced new trio sort of thing, and I said I absolutely didn’t want a picture of the band on the cover, and then the next thing I knew, the album arrived in the post with that cover, and they’d done it all without consulting us.

I thought a lot of the songs that got chosen were too clever, too art rock, and I really didn’t like them. Really, that was because Michael wanted us to be like XTC, who were his favourite band, and the reviews picked up on that, describing us as an art school band, and we weren’t anything like an art school band.

The Hendrix cover version, Foxy Lady, we’d never done that live, but it was in the repertoire because we did it at rehearsals, and it ended up on the album. I hated it. It’s the worst thing we ever recorded. I think Bill thought it was quirky to cover a Hendrix song, but I think it was a crap cover version that really does a dis-service to Hendrix.

Overall, the positive side of the album is that it is a distinctive sound, because it didn’t sound like anybody else at the time. It had a very stark quality to it. The demos we did before that sounded very different, very warm, which was very much how I imagined the band should sound, so if I’d had an input into the sound of that album it probably wouldn’t have been as distinctive. I would have made it sound too nice. As it was, it had this icy sheen to the whole production.

It was weird, though, because I remember going into the control room to listen to it and thinking, ‘God this doesn’t sound like us.’ It this weird echo to it. I wanted it to be very natural and punky. So to his credit, the one thing that Chris got right was that he was looking beyond what was happening at the time and trying to create something new.

Some of the songs aren’t too well formed, but Three Imaginary Boys is a good song, which is why it’s still in the repertoire, and obviously we still do Boys Don’t Cry. I still do Fire In Cairo live occasionally, as an acoustic thing that I do by myself, and we’ve done Grinding Halt a few times.

But I didn’t feel the whole thing sounded like us. As soon as it came out, I just knew that we had to change. I knew that I couldn’t spend a year playing that kind of music. Michael was constantly pushing to become more quirky, and I desperately didn’t want to do that.

Even before Three Imaginary Boys had been released, I’d written the songs for Seventeen Seconds. That was my response. Once we’d recorded it and got it out of the way, I felt like we now had a clean slate and we could do whatever we wanted.

HOW WAS THE ALBUM RECEIVED?
It got very mixed reviews. We were only aware of the UK response at that time. Very shortly after the album came out, we were touring Europe, Holland, Amsterdam was our first trip abroad. I think Sounds liked it but the others hated it. I think it was Paul Morley that did the NME review which really slaughtered us, and it was all about the cover artwork and all that, and I really agreed with him. It all seemed really twee to me. But I knew he couldn’t really hate all of the music, because I knew some of it was really good. So we went on and did a John Peel session a week after the review came out and it gave me a platform to respond, and I did a song called Desperate Journalists In Ongoing Review Situations, and just ranted back at him. I think he quite enjoyed that.

But that review did hurt us. We were pretty insecure and inexperienced, this was our first album, and we were relying on the press to help sell it because we certainly weren’t going to get on daytime radio. Peel played us and that was about it.

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ADDITIONAL QUOTES FROM OTHER SOURCES :

Robert Smith (The Cure) : On the Three Imaginary Boys album, there are about 4 songs I played the Top 20 on. I had that and a WEM Clubman amp. That was my setup. I could carry one in each hand. Then I got my Jazzmaster and Roland Jazz Chorus 120 amp. I went on a spending spree with my first advance. Chris Parry (owner of Fiction Records) insisted. We recorded the first four songs in a couple of hours, and he was horrified to discover that I intended to use the Top 20 for the whole record. He felt that didn't leave too many options. It could only do one sound. So he took us out the next day and Michael Dempsey bought his Guild bass and I got the Jazzmaster and Jazz Chorus amp.