When A Problem Comes Along...

Iron Man must whip it! And Robert Smith as Nightcrawler? Perfect.

Superpowered Post-Punk Marvels by Butcher Billy.

Previously on Popped Culture...
Muppet Rawk!
Stuck-Up Riverdale Punks!
The Breakfast Club Vs. The X-Men

Muppet Rawk!

I'm loving the art from Muppett Rawk III. The challenge: "Involve any Muppets from the world of Jim Henson and recreate a favorite album cover of any band of any genre." Here are three of my favourites, taken by the awesome Augie Pagan.

Above: Revolver by Karin Madan

Boys Don't Cry by Aaron Jasinski. Beaker as Robert Smith? Oh god, I want to hear a whole album sung that way!

Muppets Milk by Gene Blakefield. So that means Rowlf the Dog is Flea? Ha!

Previously on Popped Culture...

Run For the Covers

Edward Scissorhands' Teen Angst

Nice Touch For A Goth Wedding

Edward Scissorhands' Teen Angst

Scissorhands 20th is a tribute to the 20th anniversary of Edward Scissorhands, curated by Sebastien Mesnard, hosted by Gallery Nucleus. This is but a small sampling of the amazing work that's already been created. Above, Teen Angst by Josh Parpan.

Scissorheart by Roberto Ricci

Edward's Serenade by Xavier Collette

In the Red Night by Nicolas Leger

Scissorhands by Alex Leighton

Suburbia Ballet by Lorelay Bove

Previously on Popped Culture...

Poor Predictable Edward, Always Chooses Scissors

The Depp Hatter's Tea Party

Edward Scissorhands: Delight in Paper Chains

Teh Lolcats Theme Song

Did the Lolcats need a theme song? Do we need lolcats? Silly question, needs got nothing to do with it! You will want to look away, but you won't be able to. How nobody thought to use The Cure's Lovecats before, I don't know. Robert Smith must be rolling in his grave.

From the twisted minds at rathergood.com. I would have used their embed, but autoplay of this song isn't something that anyone should be subjected to.

Link via Neatorama

Three Imaginary Boys

A mopey 26-year-old once spoke musically to a 15-year-old. Can a 49-year-old do the same for a 38-year-old?

I was that 15-year-old (the pic is when I was 17, close as I could find) and The Cure diverted me from a path of Top 40 mediocrity. There wasn't a great moment of epiphany when I first heard Robert Smith, but there was when I saw his picture taped to the inside of a locker door of a girl I was far too shy to talk to.

She was what would now be called a goth, but this was the mid-80s in London, Ontario, a solidly staid and middle class town, so she was, of course, labeled a freak. There was a small handful of them at my high school and as somebody who belonged to no particular subculture, our paths never crossed.

So when I saw the birds-nest haired visage of Smith, I figured this was my way in. Get to know The Cure and I'd get to know her. It worked, kind of. For the next six years, I became obsessed with the band, but today I can't remember the name of my goth inspiration. I got as close as calling her one day, but it went no further. But my love affair with the band was intense.

I bought everything they released, pasted up pictures and extolled their greatness to all and sundry. But I never fully bought into the image, never teasing out my hair or lining my eyes and lips in black, which actually made me stand out at the concerts. Which led to one of my first, and best, geek showdowns.

One summer at an amusement park, two typical Cure fans, spying me wearing a tour shirt came up and accused me of not being a real fan, in the righteous way that only teenagers can muster. The demanded I tell them what the band's last two albums were and I responded by listing off The Cure's discography in reverse order, down to the UK-only release of Three Imaginary Boys, which I owned on vinyl. The backed off, apologizing profusely.

But during university, my ardor cooled, as it turned out I really wasn't a despondent teen. Their music remained static, but I moved on. So when I read a review of 4:13 Dream, the band's 13th studio album in 29 years, I was intrigued. Could I go back? Were they playing in this decade, or had they been standing still since I'd last paid them any mind?

The simple answer is not much has changed. Smith, the messiah of melancholy, is still feeling glum, proving that boys do, in fact, cry. The guitar work sounds au courant, but when Smith warbles "I won't try to bring you down about my suicide," he already has.

Above: Poster from the Toronto stop on The Prayer Tour, from The Cure Concerts Guide. Still one of the best concerts I've ever seen. Almost four hours!

Can’t See the Forest for the Cure

The Forest is the best song The Cure ever recorded. This revelation came to me when it played on my iPod while sitting up at the cottage, which is not a very Cure-ish place to be.

That would be typical of my relationship with The Cure. I never looked much like Robert Smith, I didn’t dye my hair black or wear eyeliner and lipstick (ok, maybe once). But I was a huge fan in high school despite not buying into the look. I wore a tour shirt (the Kissing Tour, I think) and had a couple of goth kids (well, that’s what you’d call them know) came up and challenged me, figuring I was a poser. When I ended my list of Cure albums by telling them about my vinyl import copy of the British-only release of Three Imaginary Boys, they walked away apologizing.

The Cure was one of my pop culture obsessions – there have been many: The Simpsons, They Might Be Giants, parody films, etc. – and I went full-on collector on them. Singles, posters, interview discs (remember them?) But back to The Forest, which captures them at their gloomy best. Of course don’t take my word for it, watch it above, recreated in Lego.

Pop culture mashups and YouTube – my new obsession.