There are concerts that feel like a celebration and others that feel like a communion. When The Cure took the stage at the Xfinity Center in Mansfield, Massachusetts in June 2023, it was both. Under a dusky summer sky, thousands of fans — black shirts, smudged eyeliner, and all — gathered to see one of the most beloved bands in modern music bring their dark magic back to life. What followed was a two-and-a-half-hour journey through heartbreak, beauty, and redemption, guided by Robert Smith, a man who still sings as if he’s channeling every emotion in the universe.
The night opened with “Alone,” one of The Cure’s newer and moodier pieces. The song unfurled slowly, drenched in reverb and melancholy, with Smith standing in the center of the stage beneath a single white spotlight. His voice, trembling yet commanding, set the tone — this was going to be an emotional deep dive, not just a greatest hits showcase. The band’s current lineup — long-timers Simon Gallup on bass and Jason Cooper on drums, with Roger O’Donnell and Perry Bamonte on keys and guitars — built a lush wall of sound around Smith’s vocals. It was haunting, meditative, and deeply immersive.
Then came the swell of recognition as the band launched into “Pictures of You.” The opening notes drew cheers, and suddenly, the entire crowd was singing. Few songs capture nostalgic longing like this one, and hearing it live in 2023 felt like stepping into a dream — a reminder that The Cure’s music has always existed slightly outside of time. Smith’s delivery was heartbreaking yet tender, each lyric heavy with meaning, as if he were reliving it all right there onstage.
“A Fragile Thing” kept that introspective momentum going, its delicate structure shimmering with emotional fragility. The Xfinity Center, often home to bombastic rock acts, transformed into something else entirely — a cathedral of sound and sadness.
But just when the atmosphere risked drifting too deep into melancholy, The Cure shifted gears with “A Night Like This.” The sax-infused classic from The Head on the Door exploded with color. The crowd roared, people stood, and for the first time that night, the energy turned electric. Smith’s grin, fleeting but unmistakable, said it all. The Cure still knew how to balance heartbreak with exhilaration.
The singalong continued with “Lovesong,” a track that’s transcended its goth roots to become one of the greatest love songs of all time. Couples swayed arm-in-arm, and the sincerity in Smith’s voice gave the moment real weight. “However far away, I will always love you,” he sang, and for those few minutes, everyone in the venue believed him completely.
Then came “And Nothing Is Forever,” another newer song that fit seamlessly among the classics. It pulsed with the introspective melancholy that’s defined The Cure’s later work — slower, more reflective, but still achingly beautiful.
The energy lifted again with “Burn,” the fiery track originally written for The Crow soundtrack. It was one of the night’s highlights — fierce, cinematic, and hypnotic. The interplay between Cooper’s drumming and Gallup’s bass was thunderous, while Smith’s guitar cut through the smoke like a blade. Red lights washed over the stage as Smith unleashed a cathartic wail, proving that even decades later, The Cure can still sound dangerous.
The band then drifted into the haunting “At Night,” followed by the shimmering “Charlotte Sometimes.” These early ’80s deep cuts sent longtime fans into ecstasy. The Cure’s ability to weave between eras without losing cohesion is something few bands can do; every song felt part of a singular vision, a universe with its own emotional logic.
“Push” burst forth like a breath of fresh air, all driving guitars and triumphant momentum. The band was clearly feeding off the energy — Gallup’s bass lines bouncing with a youthful defiance that hasn’t dulled in 40 years. Then came “Play for Today,” one of those Cure songs that seems tailor-made for live performance. The chant of “It’s not a case of doing what’s right…” became a crowd-wide chorus, Smith letting the audience sing whole passages while smiling shyly behind his hair.
From there, they descended into “A Forest.” If there was one moment that defined the show’s essence, it was this one. The song’s brooding bassline echoed through the venue like a heartbeat, the lights turning a deep, pulsing green. As the jam stretched out, Smith hunched over his guitar, lost in the trance, while Gallup’s bass rumbled with primal urgency. It was hypnotic, eerie, and utterly transcendent.
“Shake Dog Shake” jolted everyone back to reality with its aggressive energy, followed by the sprawling, emotional “From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea.” The latter has become a live centerpiece in recent years, and for good reason — it’s The Cure at their most dynamic, shifting from whispered verses to explosive choruses. Smith poured everything into it, his guitar howling in anguish as the lyrics blurred between heartbreak and catharsis.
The main set closed with “Endsong,” another newer track that perfectly encapsulated the band’s current mood — reflective, grand, and a little tragic. It was a fitting way to end the first act: not with finality, but with a lingering ache.
The first encore began with “I Can Never Say Goodbye,” a song Smith wrote in memory of his late brother. It was a quiet, devastating moment — just Smith, his guitar, and an audience that stood in reverent silence. “It Can Never Be the Same” followed, equally poignant, before the atmosphere shifted into something dreamier with “Plainsong.” The opening chimes washed over the crowd like a wave, leading into “Prayers for Rain,” whose relentless rhythm and despairing lyrics hit like thunder. The encore closed with “Disintegration,” the title track from their masterpiece album. Its sprawling, emotional grandeur filled every corner of the Xfinity Center, reminding everyone just how powerful The Cure’s darker material remains.
The second encore was pure joy. “Lullaby” opened the segment, its creepy-crawly rhythm and sinister charm contrasting perfectly with what followed — a run of fan favorites that turned the venue into a celebration. “Six Different Ways” and “The Walk” brought a playful bounce to the night, Smith’s quirky pop instincts shining through. Then came the euphoric stretch: “Friday I’m in Love,” “Close to Me,” “Why Can’t I Be You?,” “In Between Days,” and “Just Like Heaven.” The audience sang every word, dancing, laughing, and reveling in the moment. For a band often associated with gloom, The Cure sure knows how to deliver joy.
Finally, they closed with “Boys Don’t Cry.” The song that started it all still sounded fresh and defiant, a perfect ending to a night that had covered every shade of emotion. Smith thanked the crowd softly, waved, and disappeared into the fog, leaving behind that bittersweet afterglow only The Cure can conjure.
Setlist:
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Alone
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Pictures of You
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A Fragile Thing
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A Night Like This
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Lovesong
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And Nothing Is Forever
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Burn
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At Night
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Charlotte Sometimes
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Push
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Play for Today
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A Forest
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Shake Dog Shake
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From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea
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Endsong
Encore 1: -
I Can Never Say Goodbye
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It Can Never Be the Same
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Plainsong
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Prayers for Rain
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Disintegration
Encore 2: -
Lullaby
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Six Different Ways
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The Walk
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Friday I’m in Love
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Close to Me
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Why Can’t I Be You?
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In Between Days
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Just Like Heaven
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Boys Don’t Cry
By the end of the night, The Cure had played 29 songs spanning over four decades, each one rendered with precision and passion. The production was striking without being overblown — shifting lights, moody projections, and fog that gave every silhouette a dreamlike edge. But it was Robert Smith himself who remained the emotional core. His voice, remarkably unchanged by time, carried the same yearning that defined the band’s early years. His guitar work was sharp and expressive, his presence magnetic.
What’s truly remarkable about The Cure in 2023 is how authentic they still feel. There’s no sense of nostalgia-for-hire, no going through the motions. Every song, whether written in 1980 or 2023, feels like part of an ongoing story — one that continues to evolve, deepen, and resonate.
For longtime fans, this show was a gift: a chance to revisit their youth and feel the same emotions that drew them to The Cure decades ago. For younger fans, it was proof that great music doesn’t age; it transforms. The crowd left the Xfinity Center slowly, some still singing, others simply quiet, as if emerging from a spell.
The Cure’s Mansfield performance wasn’t just another stop on a tour — it was a reminder that few bands can blend beauty and sadness so perfectly. Under that summer sky, with Robert Smith’s voice echoing into the night, it felt like being part of something timeless.
Final Grade: A+