Three Imaginary Boys came out in May 1979, and it's the record that kicked off The Cure's whole career. Robert Smith was still only nineteen, and you can hear a band figuring themselves out in real time - there's none of the polished gloom they'd later become famous for. It sits right at the start of that post-punk explosion, before the Cure had settled into being 'the Cure' as we now think of them, which is exactly what makes it such a fascinating listen in hindsight.

Sound-wise it's spiky, jittery and a bit strange - all clipped guitars, nervous energy and short, sharp songs that rarely hang about. You can hear echoes of Wire and Buzzcocks in the choppy rhythms, but there's also a playful, slightly off-kilter pop sensibility poking through that would go on to define the band's later work. It's not the lush, atmospheric Cure of Disintegration or even the moody Cure of Seventeen Seconds - this is scrappier and more direct, almost like a garage band with better ideas than most.

10:15 Saturday night is the obvious standout, all tense bassline and bored-teenager restlessness, and it's a brilliant opener. Fire in Cairo has a great strutting swagger to it, while the title track closes things out with a woozy, unsettled feel that hints at where the band would head next. Then there's the odd little joke of tucking a Jimi Hendrix cover away at the end, which just adds to the record's slightly chaotic, thrown-together charm.