"Lovesong" (The Cure)

Unlike yesterday's entry, "Lovesong" from the 1989 album Disintegration is actually an affectionate song.  The Cure's resident tunesmith/frontman Robert Smith wrote it for his high school sweetheart and eventual wife, Mary Poole, to let her know that she was always in his heart, even when he and his band were playing the other side of the world.
It's a sentiment that he echoed again recently in an interview with The Guardian.  Discussing his marriage, Smith said, "I just struck lucky early on.  I really enjoy what I do, and who I'm with, and where I am."
When "Lovesong" was released in 1989, I remember it struck me how sincere it sounded.  It felt different from the typical, tepid "Ooh, baby, baby, I lurve you" ballads that were (still are) a dime-a-dozen.
But what I really loved was how bouncy, yet ethereal, the track was; it was one of those rare ballads that you could either fast or slow dance to.  Which was great for middle school dances.  The popular guys who were "going with" the popular girls would all be in one corner of the gymnasium, arms draped around each other, swaying languidly, while my pals and I would be on the other side of the gym, flailing around to that great bassline and those punchy drums, having a frigging blast in spite of ourselves.
I've always had this picture in my head of Smith going, "Hmm, I need to write something for the nerds and drama geeks who always feel left out when they play slow songs at junior high dances.  Ah!  How about this..."
On that note, I really do admire Smith's songwriting abilities.  His knack for combining fresh melodies with an air of Gothic romanticism always gave The Cure's music an odd Beatles-meets-Tim Burton kind of charm.  Furthermore, I never felt like Smith was trying to chase any trends.  That's why I can go back and listen to "Lovesong" and Disintegration, and neither feels particularly stuck in the moment.  They live and breathe in their own atmosphere.