Or one of the most underrated albums of the '80s. While critics were still praising R.E.M.'s Document as a masterpiece, in the same year (1987) across the ocean, The Cure were releasing one of the most brilliantly creative albums of the decade.
Having abandoned the dark sound of the so-called "dark trilogy" (Seventeen Seconds, Faith, Pornography), but also moving beyond the psychedelic pop musings of Top and Head On the Door, Kiss Me is an album whose only connecting thread is the orchestral arrangements, deliberately pompous, visionary, halfway between a progressive taste and certain typically glam dadaism, but all in the manner of Robert Smith, of course; and hence free, spontaneous, absolutely devoid of mannerisms.
Under the arrangements, the songs are each completely different from the other, characterized by total interpretative freedom: from the pseudo-funk of Hot Hot Hot, to the tribal jazz of Icing Sugar, to the pure psychedelia of If Only Tonight We Could Sleep and Snakepit, passing through irresistible old-style ballads like One More Time or A Thousand Hours, Kiss Me Kiss Me Kiss Me is one of those rare cases where any definition would be obsolete in the face of such abundance and mad freedom, one of those rare cases, in short, where rock is a pretext to explore everything and more, and not to fossilize on a few sterile interpretative canons.
This Album is a breathtaking force of nature, with melodies that embody both a chilling glacial stillness and an erupting volcanic core.
Kiss me Kiss me Kiss me is an Album that makes you understand that nothing is impossible, that wanting is power.
The two organs, therefore, act as a bridge between the interior of the person ... and the exterior world.
From the initial imperative 'kiss me' ... we arrive at the final imperative 'fight', directed at oneself, not to surrender.