Why Did American Football Cover the Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry”?

Mike Kinsella of American Football performing onstage at First Avenue in Minnesota

American Football covered the Cure’s “Boys Don’t Cry” because its struggle between emotional pain and masculine restraint helped shape Mike Kinsella as both a songwriter and a man. In the band’s SiriusXMU performance, American Football makes that influence audible: the arrangement begins with an idea from “Never Meant,” then carries the Cure’s song into the slower, vulnerable musical language Kinsella has spent decades developing.

Two Familiar Songs Meet

The performance begins in familiar American Football territory. Its opening recalls “Never Meant,” the first track on the band’s 1999 self-titled debut and the song most closely associated with its wistful, intricate sound.

Then another song emerges: “Boys Don’t Cry,” the Cure’s early single about someone attempting to conceal heartache behind the behavior expected of men.

The transition joins songs released 20 years apart. Yet it does not feel like a novelty mashup. American Football slows the Cure’s brisk original and rebuilds it around interlocking acoustic parts and trumpet. Pitchfork, Spin, Stereogum and Consequence described the slower acoustic reworking, while Pitchfork, Spin and Consequence noted the trumpet.

That transformation supplies the first clue to why American Football chose the song. The band is not trying to imitate the Cure’s recording. It is showing how the song’s emotional argument fits naturally inside its own work.

What “Boys Don’t Cry” Gave Mike Kinsella

Kinsella explained the personal connection when SiriusXM published an excerpt from the session on October 7, 2026. He described the Cure as playful, honest and free of emotional posturing, adding that the song had helped reshape his thinking when he was young. Pitchfork and Consequence also published his statement that “Boys Don’t Cry” was fundamental to his development as a songwriter and as a man.

That distinction matters. This was not simply an influential guitar song selected by a guitarist who admired it. Kinsella heard something formative in its subject: the pressure to appear emotionally untouched even when the opposite is true.

The Cure released “Boys Don’t Cry” as a Fiction single in June 1979. A contemporary Smash Hits song sheet and modern catalog credits name Robert Smith, Michael Dempsey and Lol Tolhurst as its writers. The music moves with pop immediacy, but the narrator is trapped inside a less carefree situation. He recognizes the damage caused by his behavior while trying to disguise his grief, because admitting pain would violate the masculine role he believes he must perform.

The title presents that rule in its bluntest form. Boys are expected to remain controlled. Regret can be felt, but not displayed. The song exposes the cost of that performance without turning its narrator into a simple hero. He is emotionally aware enough to understand what he has lost, yet still constrained by the habits that prevent honest expression.

For a writer like Kinsella, that tension offered rich territory: feeling deeply, speaking indirectly and leaving emotional conflicts unresolved.

The Road From the Cure to “Never Meant”

American Football’s music often inhabits the space between recognition and resolution. Its songs allow uncertainty, regret, distance and failed communication to linger. The emotions are rarely presented as problems that can be neatly solved.

“Never Meant” became the clearest shorthand for that approach. Polyvinyl and American Football’s Bandcamp catalog identify it as the opening track on the group’s self-titled debut, released September 14, 1999. Its delicately interlocking guitars surround a relationship that the narrator tries to minimize even as the song reveals its emotional weight.

Placing a reference to “Never Meant” at the start of “Boys Don’t Cry” therefore does more than acknowledge American Football’s best-known song. It creates a compact musical history.

First comes the sound associated with Kinsella’s own writing. Then it opens into a song he has identified as one of its formative influences. The sequence runs backward toward the source while also demonstrating what changed along the way.

Both songs examine the language people use to protect themselves from painful feelings. The Cure compresses that conflict into sharp, economical pop. American Football tends to let it unfold through repetition, hesitation and spacious arrangements. Joining the songs reveals a shared emotional structure beneath their different styles.

The result resembles an origin story told through music: “Never Meant” leads into one of the songs that helped make its emotional perspective possible.

Why the New Arrangement Matters

A straightforward recreation would have established American Football’s affection for the Cure. The slower acoustic arrangement communicates something more personal.

The Cure’s original gains much of its power from contrast. Its bright movement pushes against the narrator’s regret, making emotional denial sound almost effortless until the words reveal the strain underneath. American Football changes that balance. By reducing the speed and opening more space between the parts, the band brings the buried hurt closer to the surface.

The interlocking guitars translate the song into American Football’s vocabulary, while the trumpet introduces another reflective voice. Instead of preserving the original recording’s compact momentum, the performance allows its emotional contradiction to breathe.

That is how influence often works at its most meaningful. An artist absorbs more than a recognizable riff or production style. A song can offer permission to approach a subject differently—to question an inherited idea, admit uncertainty or treat vulnerability as material worthy of sustained attention.

American Football’s version sounds less like a tribute built from imitation than a demonstration of what Kinsella carried forward. The Cure supplied an early model for challenging masculine emotional restraint. American Football extends that challenge by making reflection, regret and fragility central features of the arrangement.

Why American Football Performed It in 2026

The cover also belongs to a specific moment in the band’s career. SiriusXM and Spin reported that the session took place at SiriusXM’s Nashville studio. The program included “Wake Her Up” and “No Feeling,” two songs from American Football’s fourth self-titled album, commonly called LP4.

Polyvinyl and the band’s Bandcamp catalog date LP4 to May 1, 2026. The SiriusXMU appearance was therefore connected to the group’s current album cycle, but Kinsella’s explanation keeps “Boys Don’t Cry” from feeling like a routine addition to a promotional set. The new songs show where American Football is now; the cover identifies part of the emotional foundation beneath that work.

It also fits the longer second life of a band that originally released its debut in 1999 and reunited in 2014 as Polyvinyl prepared a deluxe reissue. Since returning, American Football has had the unusual opportunity to reconsider its formative music while continuing to add to it. Folding “Never Meant” into a Cure cover lets the band look backward without treating its history as a museum piece.

A Rare but Revealing Choice

“Boys Don’t Cry” follows American Football’s officially released version of Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You.” Polyvinyl and the band’s Bandcamp catalog date that earlier cover, which featured Miya Folick, to December 9, 2021.

The two choices share an interest in tenderness, longing and emotions that resist clean definition. Neither feels selected merely because it can be adapted to American Football’s instrumentation. Each already contains qualities the band can draw into its own reflective style.

That is why “Boys Don’t Cry” ultimately makes sense as an American Football song. The surprise fades once the lineage becomes clear. The Cure gave Kinsella an early example of songwriting that questioned emotional toughness; “Never Meant” helped turn that lesson into a defining sound. By joining them, American Football turns a radio-session cover into a personal statement about what musicians inherit—and how they make that inheritance their own.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *