Everyone has to start somewhere. For the Cure, that somewhere was Three Imaginary Boys, a charming if inauspicious collection of Buzzcocks-y songs that was more Pablo Honey than Are You Experienced, even if they did sneak the world’s weirdest Jimi Hendrix song onto it. The release was largely ignored until the later single “Boys Don’t Cry,” after which their debut was rereleased with a different track listing that included that hit.

But then two important things happened. First, the Cure toured with labelmates and goth pioneers Siouxsie and the Banshees, for whom Robert Smith even filled in on guitar after their guitarist quit midtour.

Second, they added bassist Simon Gallup to the band. While bassists are often overlooked, Gallup brought a brooding drive to the band’s rhythm section that would go on to be a major part of the group’s sound, and was a big part of why this is the first record in the group’s catalog where the Cure starts to feel like the Cure™.

In some ways, Seventeen Seconds feels like the Cure’s debut record, while Three Imaginary Boys feels like the sole record by the former band Easy Cure. All of the elements of their trademark sound are here: dark atmospheres, synth pads, minimalist guitar work, and the two most important ingredients: Gallup’s bass lines and Smith’s ability for writing songs that are both dark and catchy, without sacrificing either element (see especially: “A Forest“).

That said, it’s still miles away from the band that would release Pornography, The Head on the Door, or Disintegration. They’re finding their own voice, but at this point it still owes a lot to their influences. Besides Smith’s vocals, much of the record sounds like what would have happened if Joy Division never would have become New Order.

None of that diminishes this record though. Even at this stage, the Cure are masters of creating moods and hooks alike. And even though the record is a mere thirty-six minutes long, it doesn’t mind spending time on setting a scene. There are a number of tracks that only exist as mood builders. Each side of the record starts with an instrumental, and while “Three” isn’t technically an instrumental, the vocal track is buried deep enough beneath eerie piano plinks and a horror movie chord progression that it feels the same role. Even the proper songs themselves seem unrushed, giving space to build the gloomscapes. Despite its manic rhythm, “Play For Today” waits thirty seconds before introducing a proper guitar part and a full minute before vocals come in. “In Your House” also has a minute-long intro with a wispy keyboard playing what I struggle to call a solo before the vocals come in. Even “A Forest” starts out as a dirge before launching into one of the most indelible post punk tracks of all time.

Much has been said about Seventeen Seconds’ place in the Cure’s catalog. Often, it’s treated like it’s important merely for kicking off their classic Gloomy Period (with Faith and Pornography) and for offering up a clarified direction for the group’s sound. But that ignores just how enjoyable this record is in its own right. The fact that they outpaced by such large strides in the albums to follow says much more about the Cure than it does about Seventeen Seconds.