Had I known, I wouldnt have started this website.

I scanned item #0001 on September 7, 2004. If someone had told me then that this site would go on to catalogue over 7,000 records —and that I would spend an average of 40 minutes on each— I would have run the other way. I wouldnt have embarked on a project that I would never see completed. I have done the math: 280,000 minutes —2.6 years of full-time work. Nearly three years of my life spent documenting The Cure discography: scanning, editing, uploading. And yet, looking back, Im glad I didnt know. Because thecurerecords.com has turned pieces of my life into joy. It has even led me to real friendships with some of you.

The story actually begins in September 1998. I was 24, moving out of my parents home for the first time. At that time, the collection my brother Silvio (zakiaaa, on the right) and I shared included 150 records—a number that seemed insanely high. Dividing the collection was one of the hardest parts of leaving home, but the agreement came easily. In my room, we had analog formats —vinyls, cassettes, tapes—; in Silvios, the digital ones —CD and CDV. That ended up being the division.

In 2002, while searching eBay for an original Fender VI String Bass guitar as a wedding gift for Silvio, I typed "The Cure". My mind was blown. Every day, auctions appeared for records that werent even listed on the beloved on-fiction.com and plainsong.net—my favorite places on the Internet, and in the world, at the time. I also found those impossible-to-get records that you only saw in Daren Butlers book The Cure On Record. I still remember the shock of seeing the Australian 7” single of A Forest up for auction or the Japanese promo 7” of The Lovecats... with a folder! Ultimately, eBay was like ten new record fairs every day, where filtering The Cure took just a click.

Our collection began to grow at an unprecedented pace and I became increasingly frustrated by not seeing everything in one place. Then, one cursed morning in September 2004, I had the fateful idea to buy a scanner and start digitizing—without telling my brother. I just did it. Some weeks later, I showed him mockups of a private site I was building, so we could reunite the collection. He barely reacted.

Everything changed on January 6, 2005. That year, the “Reyes Magos”—the Spanish equivalent of Santa Claus—brought me about 20 different Kiss me vinyl records. I did not see that coming. Silvio had gone wild. I was annoyed by the flood of nearly identical vinyls, acquired just for the sake of owning them. I suppose I was overwhelmed by the idea of scanning them all. Unbeknownst to me, the news of the site I was building had turned Silvio into a completist. He dove in like Indiana Jones, hunting unseen rarities. He had correctly envisioned what the site would become: an illustrated Wikipedia of The Cures discography. He joined the project and gladly agreed to share the (considerable) development costs.

The enormous task of editing every single angle of each record —now over 44,000 images and counting—, combined with the financial burden of web development, inevitably led me to reconsider the sites purpose. It would no longer be a private page for our enjoyment. With a bit more effort, we could open it to everyone. Other collectors could benefit from it—and contribute as well. In the end, happiness is sharing. My brothers vision became reality and I ended up becoming a completist myself. My chosen username was tsao, an acronym for the same all over, from the refrain of the song “Purity” by The God Machine.

When the first version of the site finally went online in February 2007, it featured about 3,200 records. This included our collection, which had grown to around 600, plus content of from the websites mentioned earlier. Naively, I believed the site already contained nearly everything that existed. Then, the inevitable happened: many of you began scanning your records and sending them in. A gigantic tsunami of work crashed over me. Many of you have rightly pointed out that records submitted years ago are still pending. I understand your frustration and I can only thank you for your patience. The unlisted records is a stone in my shoe I carry every day.

When I find time—my scarcest resource, as it is for most of us with young children—, I prioritize as follows: First, I upload records from my own collection. Not to inflate my personal stats at the expense of others, but because its the only way I can stay organized. I assure you, scanning a compilation of various artists doesnt thrill me. But if it lands on my desk, I need to deal with it—and that means giving it priority. Once my desk is clear, I tackle the pending submissions, usually choosing the most complete, well-scanned, and noteworthy records.

At times, some of you have suggested opening the site to others for record creation or listing records without images. I never found these ideas appealing. We are not Discogs.com —an amazing, comprehensive, and incredibly useful data base, but one that lacks quality control. Nor have I ever wanted to add records without visuals. Even without images, uploading a new entry is tedious and time-consuming. I need the visuals to stay motivated.

I dont know how many artists are fortunate enough to have fansites like this one, or like cure-concerts.de, to name just one. When Songs Of A Lost World came out, Robert Smith said in an interview that Cure fans were unlike any others — that he didnt see the same sense of community at other artists concerts. It made me think of all of you.

Some might lament that the time I spent writing this could have been used to upload another record from the waiting list—and they would be right. But for some reason, 20 years after buying that scanner, I realized I had never told this story—the story of thecurerecords.com.

It was about time.

Ignasi (tsao)
January 26, 2025