Of all their many incarnations, this is truly the Cure at their darkest, most severe and most haunting. Anyone who has ever heard The Cure will appreciate Robert Smith's lyrical genius, but this album is so full of lost and found words of love and death and hopelessness. The cold dead beat of Lol Tolhurst's drum draws us into One Hundred Years, accompanied by Simon Gallup's pulsing base, as Robert Smith sings deathly lullabyes of loss and of parting to his wailing guitar; it is theme that is carried through such classics as The Hanging Garden and Siamese Twins (with Tolhurst's ghastly pagan drum beat and Smith's beckoning voice, always to the rhythm of Gallup's insistent and enduring base), and (a personal favourite) A Strange Day. This album came at the begining of the "Goth" movement and helped pave the road toward the rising darkness; their legend became fact and that fact is now their lecacy. This album is so powerful that its effect is sill felt in later masterworks, such as Disintegration, Bloodflowers and their most recent, self titled, release. Robert Smith's talent as a lyricist/poet is shown at its very best as the Three Imaginary Boys stake their claim on the future of music. As well as being a classic album in it's own right, Pornography was also the death of innocence and their Coming Of Age.