the cure's hefty double album from 1987 often sounds more like a compilation than a coherent whole, with musical ideas bouncing frantically back and forth. nevertheless, in typical cure style, 'kiss me, kiss me, kiss me' successfully combines catchy pop with bitter despair. through 17 immensely sensual songs, robert smith is at his most poetic and vitriolic. the joyous pop of 'just like heaven' and 'the perfect girl' still delights, and the frisson provided by 'shiver and shake' reinforces the physical nature of this collection.
