The photo of when Trent Reznor met Robert Smith has been circulated online for decades. The press, and Trent himself, to various degrees, have shared the story. But I’ve never heard the story told so sweetly as when I heard about it through my friends who were there.
Stories and memories like this are getting me through the reality of life during the coronavirus pandemic. From my Brooklyn fourth floor walk-up, I can see the hospital where the first patient lost their life as New York City became the epicenter of North America’s COVID-19 outbreak. I can also hear the birds chirping and smell the cherry blossom trees – signals of spring. Barely audible to me is the echo of music fans that flocked to New York City just a year ago, a lifetime ago, when New York was the epicenter of another sort. Cure fans from everywhere traversed the globe to see Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor induct The Cure into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. This year, with Nine Inch Nails receiving the Hall of Fame induction, fans of The Cure have speculated whether or not Robert Smith would return the honor. The admiration between these two artists spans decades. That infamous night in which they met was an epicenter all its own.
I was lucky enough to attend the 2019 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction Ceremony. The speech Trent gave was incredible, not only because of his artistry and self-described reclusiveness but because he is a Cure fan. Through his words, Trent Reznor was on stage representing all of us. The mutual admiration shared between Trent and Robert is well known amongst fans, initially sparked by the photo of their first time meeting passed around various Cure forums since the late 90s. Although I was not there the first time Trent met Robert, some of my best friends were. It was the summer of 1996. That summer changed everything.
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The post-punk era before social media
I was a teenager in the 80s when it was not exactly cool to be mad-hot about a band. Not even for an outsider. Schoolmates, teachers and random adults relentlessly teased me about my devotion to The Cure. Friends mocked my adoration of Robert Smith. He was enigmatic and strange, a musician who didn’t make sense to almost anyone. But that’s ok – I didn’t make sense to anyone either. Sometimes, not even to myself. No one understood my undaunted determination to get myself to their gigs. I needed a friend who wanted to go with me to more than one show.
The Question: Why did these concerts matter so much to me? The answer, never singular nor still, is constantly evolving. To this day, I follow The Cure with uncompromising devotion. Thirty-five years later, Robert Smith is still my #1 hero. The gigs are still potent. I’m given the chance to experience a song, live, that I have never seen before. Some of the best and most enduring friendships of my entire life were formed on the sidewalk while waiting in line to see that band play. At first, I didn’t think of fans like myself as being a part of rock and roll history. But we are. And if you’re reading this, chances are that you are a part of the story as well.
In the early 90s, I met Ian, my future best friend and concert accomplice. We took road trips far and wide to see the bands we loved – The Cure, Nick Cave, Cocteau Twins, The Jesus and Mary Chain. The list goes on. With The Cure, we started small; three gigs on the Wish Tour in 1992. Three gigs of the same band seemed weird to friends and family. When we graduated to 15 gigs on the Swing Tour in 1996, there was no use trying to explain ourselves. An unusual vacation? A trip to the moon? A strange attraction, to be sure! The game-changer in 1996 was chasing the tour bus, meeting the band, and making new friends. We stumbled head-on into our future community by unabashedly following our hearts. Our crew of two Cure-trippers soon grew to eight. Friends from different cities across the United States; we bonded quickly and have followed The Cure together ever since.
For the first time in my life, I felt at home. I was compelled to document my life as a Cure fan. I wanted to chronicle what I was experiencing with people who understood me and my devotion to The Cure. In 1999 I began creating PUSH – A Cure Fan Documentary. I’ve recorded the stories of fans I’ve met along the way. Cure Fans. We’ve been described as everything from adorable to punishing. But perhaps we were most eloquently described back in March of 2019 by Trent Reznor at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction.
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“It was like this music was written just for me” – Trent Reznor
“I struggled my whole life
feeling that I don’t fit in or belong anywhere – kind of like right now. Hearing this, (The Cure’s music) suddenly I felt connected, no longer quite so alone….Despite making challenging music that deals with the biggest themes, their impact has been gigantic. They’ve sold the best part of who gives a shit how many million records and been an essential touchstone in the genres of Post-Punk, New Wave, Goth, Alternative, Shoegaze and Post-Rock. They’ve been in and out of fashion so many times in the last four decades that they ended up transcending fashion itself. Though they might be a hip name to drop in 2019, this wasn’t always the case. Their dedication to pushing sonic and artistic boundaries while making music for the ages wasn’t always rewarded with glowing reviews in the press. But they never failed to attract a passionate, intelligent and loyal fanbase who always knew the truth: The Cure are one of the most unique, most brilliant, most heartbreakingly excellent rock bands the world has ever known.“
– Trent Reznor, RRHOF March 29th, 2019
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The Cure in 2019
2019 was a landmark year for The Cure. In March, they played in Africa for the first time. Thousands of fans flocked to New York City for The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ceremony. In May, thousands more made the pilgrimage to Sydney, Australia for the 30th anniversary of their acclaimed album, Disintegration. The summer was filled with festival dates, and the release of two concert films: “The Cure Anniversary” and “Cureation-25.” A tease of a new album was circulating. The Cure are in a popularity upswing, perhaps matching their highest since 1989.
The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction reminded that musicians are fans too. Somewhere in their history, they stood awe-struck, just like us. Robert Smith and Trent Reznor are big fans of each other. Back in 1996, some Cure fans were lucky enough to witness them meeting for the first time.
It happened one night, long ago, at a smoky Goth club called The Blue Crystal. The story has been covered by the press, but never by the fans that took the infamous photo now known as “The Hug”. Bridget and Erica, part of the eight Cure-trippers I now call family, can tell you all about it. They were there. Here’s how it all went down:
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The Story of the Night Trent Met Robert, as Told By Bridget M:
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It’s hard to explain that night in 1996 from today’s perspective, 24 years later. But it’s a night I will never forget. I remember thinking that this was the last time we would see The Cure. Ever. From around 1989 through 2000, rumors had Cure fans haunted by the ever-looming possibility that every Cure record we bought, and every concert we attended, would be the last. Robert Smith kept the threat of ending the band close at hand from the release of Disintegration through the Dream Tour for Bloodflowers.
The experience of following The Cure was brand new to me. Krista and Erica, my pen pals from the pre-Internet days, came to meet me for the first time in person in Detroit. We planned to go to two gigs together. We pre-gamed at our first gig by waiting for The Cure’s bus to arrive at the stadium. It was July 13th, 1996 in Detroit Rock City. After the bus landed, Roger O’Donnell (keys) came out to sign autographs. Day one and our minds were already blown!
The Fever
The concert enraptured us. Before we knew it, we had succumbed to a condition affectionately nicknamed “the fever.” Two gigs were just not enough. After the Chicago show, we added Cleveland, Columbus, and Milwaukee, with a freshly painted banner in tow.
Within days, we met more fans, and our little gang slowly grew. With more friends came more resources, more miles, and more schemes to get us to the next gig. It was both exciting and exhausting. There was a price to pay for our frenzied enthusiasm: sick days from work, maxed-out credit cards, rationed road food: as in one soda pop and a bag of Combos between five of us. We would return to work for a week before “the fever” hit us again.
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Driving for days to see The Cure again
That leg was seriously rough. Ten-hour drives, being at the venue before, during, and after the concert. Then clubs after that. Half-planned adventures, catching sleep in shifts. Shit hotels full of roaches, mosquitoes, and moldy carpets. Not exactly glamorous, nor responsible, but it was our reality. It was all happening. This was the yellow brick road that brought us to that night in New Orleans.
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Soundcheck
On that day, August 25, 1996, exhausted and somewhat doubtful, we waited for the band before the show. Our goal for the night was to get The Cure to play “The 13th.” Somehow, I summoned my nerve to request the song, just after the bus landed. Robert Smith, standing by his brick-red tour bus, said he would play it at soundcheck, which was about to happen. With no shame and loads of fear, I asked our hero if we could attend. Robert said yes! He acted surprised that we would want to go to soundcheck, and then gave a mischievous smile. Into soundcheck we went. Just like that, with feet off the ground and hearts bursting with joy.
The soundcheck was amazing! The concert was fantastic! And the usual waiting-after-the-gig-by-the-brick-red-tour-bus was definitely in order. The entire band came out and signed autographs.
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The Blue Crystal Club in New Orleans
As the band stood out on the sidewalk, surrounded by fans and bodyguards, local people carried on with their night. Time passed. Multiple conversations ensued, overlapping each other in the humid Louisiana air. As the crowd thinned, someone spilled the beans about the next destination – a Goth club. And off we went.
We beat The Cure to the club. It was called The Blue Crystal and was located somewhere on Decatur Street. I’m pretty sure it’s long gone now. But at the time it was full of local club kids and Cure Fans. Around 1:00 a.m. Robert, Perry, Roger, Jason, and their tour manager, Daryl, arrived. It was a late, long night. A blurry montage of moments, encased by a fog machine and the sounds of New Order and Bauhaus.
The scene could be described as just another night at a Goth club. A bunch of people, dressed in black with moppy hair, drinking the night away in New Orleans. But for us, each passing moment became more and more intense. Somehow, we ended up at the table with Robert Smith. Five fans that had not known each other four weeks before were sitting with their biggest hero of all time, bonding in the knowledge that experience would never happen again. We tried to play it cool. We failed. How could anyone play it cool on what you think this might be the last night you will ever see The Cure? The setting made it even more beautiful and strange: all of us at a random bar, covered in the scent of clove cigarettes and sweat from 100% humidity at 2 a.m. The only “cool” thing we did was refrain from snapping a million photos. This was not condoned. But one or two were ok. We had no phones, no Internet. It was agreed that only one of us was going to bring in a camera, and it was Erica:
Disposable cameras from the mall:
“What I like the best about it, that era was that I would bring a bunch of those cardboard disposable cameras on the Cure trips
with me since this is way before digital cameras or cell phones. The second I’d get home
I’d rush them all to a one-hour-photo place in the mall because
I had no idea if any of the photos came out or what I’d even taken photos of.
Then I’d sit in the mall and rip the packages open to see how they came out.
The roll from New Orleans was definitely a good one!” – Erica Shumsky
Erica and Robert Smith. Photo Credit: Erica Shumsky
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Small talk with Robert Smith
I recall us trying to make small talk with Robert. Like the moment I told him that Roger O’Donnell said he’d play soccer with us. (“Really, Bridget?!” Insert Facepalm). Robert quipped back that Roger was crap at soccer. Small talk eventually turned to exhausted honesty. I talked and cried, cried and talked some more. I tried to explain to Robert what it all meant to us. Every second was bound by a sense of urgency. I felt so fucking foolish. An unwanted consequence of rapture. Would he remember me? Would he shun my adoration? Or would he see it like just another night out in “Curetown?” I’ll never know.
At some point, my friends and I decided to dance. That didn’t exactly take the edge off, but it did direct our attention elsewhere. We noticed a guy wearing a dorky backward baseball cap. It was Trent Reznor, standing alone by a wall, cocooned by mist from the fog machine. I said hi, and asked him if he was at the show. I tried to pretend like I didn’t know who he was. It was awkward. He seemed just as nervous as I. Time passed. Bits of the night come in pieces – Trent alone by the wall, Trent walking behind us, Trent knocking my friend’s chair with his, and various other Cure fans mumbling awkwardly around the band.
Just before “The Moment” happened – the hug – my friends and I were back on the dance floor. As was Robert. I can’t say any of us were dancing; maybe staggering is a better word. We were chatting with Daryl, the tour manager, as Trent and Robert finally met. It was surreal. We didn’t want to intrude, but our eyes were locked. We could not stop staring at the two musicians who wrote such incredible music. Two artists, who suddenly became two very normal people standing awkwardly on the dance floor, saying hello for the first time, with a hug.
Erica took her moment and snapped a photo. This is the photo that’s been spread across the web for years. Erica is not on social media and is happy to share it. But let’s give her a little thanks for sharing: The Trent and Robert hug, photo credit Erica Shumsky.
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Friends Forever
It was a big night for all of us who were there, and all of us who were not. This night symbolizes something bigger. It is a reminder of why we do what we do, and likewise why we love what we love, and why any of it matters. We are connected. Corny but true. It may be fair to say that in that club, any separation between our crew, The Cure, and Trent Reznor disappeared. At least for a short while. We are all fans. Our love for this music, for any music, makes us feel a little more connected.
During that whole 1996 tour, I made cassette tapes of all the shows, including the New Orleans sound check. I have no idea if they still play. Maybe it’s time to buy a tape deck. It was our last show of The Cure’s “last tour ever.” I was exhausted. We didn’t sleep until we caught our flights to our homes, in separate cities, a few hours after sunrise. We exchanged weepy goodbyes and raised our coffee cups as a toast to the end of this crazy ride. It was all ending. Or so we thought. Today, twenty-four years later, these ‘Cure friends’ are now family. We joke, laugh, and sometimes wince about our shared experiences. But we’re still here, The Cure are still the best band ever, and we’re making plans for our next gig together, hoping that this terrible time of the coronavirus will pass and that we will adapt. Stay safe, stay strong, and fingers crossed we can all get together again to enjoy the power and joy that live music brings.
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– Bridget M & Arusha Baker
from Push – A Cure Fan Documentary.