Robert Smith shuffled to the distant left of the stage at the Sound Advice Amphitheatre, pulling at a cuff on his long-sleeved black shirt and widening his egg-white eyes at the well-mannered West Palm Beach audience. For virgins to the Cure's live spectacle, the 44-year-old Smith's perfected miming of euphoric delirium was part tall tale from a haunted mansion innkeeper and part Michael Jackson parable on celebrity idiosyncrasy that wistfully filled their glass to its brim with... More >>>