The Cure: An Unhealthy Addiction?

As I was walking home tonight, I was startled to see none other than Robert Smith's face stenciled into the sidewalk along MY STREET. To get things straight, we're talking about Robert Smith of The Cure, not former Ohio State great Robert Smith. After being momentarily enamored with the craftsmanship of the stencil, I became re-aware of a question that has been bugging me for the last five years: why is The Cure so effin' worshipped in Utah?

I grew up in a musically sheltered environment listening almost exclusively to oldies until I got my first car in high school and could tune into any radio station that I wanted to. This being the case, I was not exposed to The Cure during my formative years. I jumped straight into grunge rock. What's my point? ... Oh yeah, the point is that, hypothetically, knowing nothing other than The Cure is fully embraced by white-bread Utah, I must assume that The Cure are a bunch of wanks who fall disappointingly short of being edgy or otherwise saying anything -- kinda like how Utahans tend to blurt out "What the fetch!" when they are cut-off on the highway.

Is this all in my head? Do I not have my finger on the pop-pulse of Utah? Or are The Cure that vanilla as to appeal to the masses of Utah? To dig any further would imply that I care.

Oh, and by the way, Oingo Boingo is the same way around here except that Oingo Boingo cannot even pretend to be cool.