Live Report: The Cure roll back the years to deliver all the hits to an adoring, sun-drenched Marlay Park

Robert Smith strolls on stage to be greeted by an adoring mass of 40,000, and the late evening sun shining down upon them.

Concert goers, revelling in the summer heat, are rushing back from their trips to the bar, skillfully manoeuvring plastic pints held together by a flaccid cardboard base through a packed crowd.

As he settles himself in front of the microphone, the vast opening chimes of 'Plainsong' roll across the field and cause a ripple of excitement.

Thirty-seven years ago, Smith was speaking to Hot Press in Lisbon during a very different moment in The Cure’s history. The band were touring Disintegration, now often credited as their greatest album, but Smith was openly talking as though the end was near.

“Everyone’s aware that this is the last tour,” he said. “I’m standing on stage now thinking that we’ve only a certain number of concerts left and it’s given them a real edge.”

Thankfully, it didn't turn out to be the end, but the band is quite different. Founding member Lol Tolhurst was kicked out of the band shortly before that interview. Then, last year, guitarist Perry Bemonte passed away, following a short illness.

As the opening sweep of 'Plainsong' gives way to the shimmer of 'Pictures of You', the distance between that supposedly final chapter and this balmy evening in Marlay Park seems both enormous and irrelevant.

Then, ‘High’ follows with a burst of Wish-era brightness. The love-struck guitars and buoyant drums answer the previous gloom with love and optimism, concluding a triad of hits to kick off the performance.

Around the crowd are a handful of Robert Smith lookalikes with smudged eyeliner and black clothes, as well as those who recall attending early Cure gigs throughout the 70s and 80s. This contingent is joined by a sizeable chunk of young people, either accompanied by a parent or in groups pushing toward the front barrier.

This mix unties to embrace ‘In Between Days'. The track hits all the hallmarks of The Cure’s brilliance: the tight, driving drum beats, jangly guitar and poignant lyrics about the complex emotional spectrum of love that have made The Cure a cross-generational phenomenon.

The lyrics, “When I said it was true/ That it couldn't be me and be her/ In between without you,” are chanted euphorically by those crowding around the barrier in the front-standing section.

For songs that deal with such angst and vulnerability, the spirits in Marlay Park are remarkably high. The pushing and shoving that are a hallmark of crowds this size are absent.

The glistening guitar intro to ‘Just Like Heaven’ rings out, which has fans frantically scrambling for their phones before Robert Smith has even sung a word. Some of the younger audience probably know the song from Oliva Rodrigo’s 2025 Glastonbury set, during which she brought out The Cure frontman to sing the tune.

The chiming guitars and deceptively upbeat bounce of Boys Don’t Cry’ has Cure fans in raptures in the late evening warmth as fans sing a song about emotional turmoil and heartbreak, with unrestrained joy.

Before leaving the stage, Smith takes a moment to admire the adorning crowd.

"You were truly lovely. See you again."

Nearly five decades in, The Cure remain as strange and quietly overwhelming as ever.