There are quite a few people who consider The Cure’s “Pornography” to be the dark masterpiece of the 1980s, a high point in the discography of a great band. And then there are those like me, who have always considered The Cure to be grossly overrated and who couldn’t relate at all to the band’s dark, depressive and sometimes morbid style, even going so far as to regard it as a caricature. Let’s put it this way: “Pornography” is not a Cure album (unlike, for example, its successor “Japanese Whispers” or the later “Disintegration”) that can convert a Cure sceptic like me. All the preconceptions I have about The Cure are confirmed here: a contrived gloomy atmosphere, whiny vocals, depressive lyrics, mindless post-punk with the same old chord progressions and unimaginative arrangements. The album really isn’t for me.