(Credits: Far Out / Alamy)
Sun 22 March 2026 23:00, UK
When you think of all the ways that The Cure frontman Robert Smith pulled out all the stops for Wild Mood Swings, it seems criminal that it’s one of their lesser-appreciated records. But with songs like ‘Jupiter Crash’, ‘Strange Attraction’, and ‘Club America’, it’s no doubt one of the band’s more significant efforts, if only for the way it spotlights the frontman’s knack for nuanced and timeless storytelling.
That said, during the few reflections on its shortcomings, Smith has never said anything bad about the material itself. In fact, aside from recording taking place during a tumultuous period for the band, Smith’s main gripe was something else he couldn’t control at the time – its length. In his view, this was detrimental to its success.
“When [it] came out, I was surprised by the, let’s say, mixed reaction,” he once said, adding that the “failings” of the record stemmed from the fact that it’s too long, and that ‘Gone and Round and Round’ shouldn’t have been on there at all. He has different views on the rest of the material, though, and even went so far as to call it one of his favourite Cure records ever, likely due to the level of honesty he remained committed to, both melodically and lyrically.
While some of the songs are certainly hit-or-miss or not up to their own standard, some are more than worthwhile. ‘Jupiter Crash’, for one, is undeniably the standout of the entire record, while ‘Club America’ showcases Smith’s knack for authentic songwriting, drawing attention to one aspect of occupying the spotlight that Smith has strong feelings towards: the excess and pretence of its more hedonistic spaces.
Inspired by a trip Smith took in 1994 to New York, ‘Club America’ took shape after Smith embarked on a night clubbing with the members of Depeche Mode and brothers Perry and Daryl Bamonte, a moment that made him realise the dichotomy between who he knew himself to be and what sorts of scenes he found himself in the middle of at the time.
He started writing the song on the plane home as a way to “explain it away to myself”. Calling the entire situation “ironic”, he also said that how it looked on the surface was not at all how it felt to experience it firsthand. At least, not for him, anyway. “I was full of self-loathing,” he said. “And that song is not anti-the girl in the ‘canary feather dress’, it’s actually anti-me because I was part of it.”
Therefore, in navigating the chaos, ‘Club America’ draws attention to the absurdity of faking joy just because that’s what you feel like you’re supposed to do: “Some kind of trigger-happy intercourse / ‘Club America salutes you’ says the girl on the door / ‘We accept all major lies / We love any kind of fraud / So go on in and enjoy / Go on in and enjoy.’”
He also recalls “wonderful” people living “fabulous” lives, even though they try “hard to impress” and don’t care about what’s being said or even if anybody remembers their names. It’s a scene many likely find familiar, but one that feels especially poignant when considering that Smith, for the most part, thrives on the quieter moments of rumination and the introverted reflections that struggle to make sense of the world around him.
As such, ‘Club America’ doesn’t just spotlight the “anti-me”, it also highlights his own self-disgust at pandering to those scenes in the first place. And in turn, this becomes a broader reflection of who Smith wanted to be as an artist during those years, resuming his place as the dark and gloomy outsider, refusing to confuse hedonism with authenticity.
