Following the dissolution of this summer's Lollapalooza tour due to poor ticket sales, it seemed that the perceived resurgence in the current underground and 1980s college rock scenes had been a sham. It was a surprise then, that a festival pairing The Cure with contemporary inheritors of their goth-tinged, post-punk like Interpol and The Rapture could be so profitable, filling amphitheaters around the nation with legions of fans ranging from aging new-wavers to teenage indie rockers; from those introduced to The Cure through their first album, 1979's Three Imaginary Boys, to those just discovering the '80s staple through their newly-released eponymous 13th album.

Playing at Meriweather Post Pavilion in Columbia, Md., an outdoor amphitheater, the Curiosa Festival bridged the gap between current underground trends and their roots two decades ago. Disco-punk poster children The Rapture, whose half-hour set highlighted their breakthrough debut album, Echoes, made this most evident, even if they were less than consistent. Despite this occasional triumph of style over substance, The Rapture still delighted the younger half of their audience with singles "House of Jealous Lovers," "Sister Savior" and "Out of the Races and Onto the Tracks."

Interpol did manage to capture the attention of the entire amphitheater, running through selections from their debut album Turn on the Bright Lights. They also previewed a couple of tracks from their forthcoming follow-up Antics, displaying their evolution as showmen. It was fascinating to see bassist Carlos D. stumble across the stage during "Slow Hands," guitarist Daniel Kessler artfully pose during "PDA," singer Paul Banks extract screams from the crowd as he crooned the chorus of "NYC." It was promising to see the spirit of Joy Division, The Smiths and headliners The Cure alive and well in such a young and talented act.

Opening with the darkly expansive "Plainsong," the first cut from their magnum opus, Disintegration, The Cure established their tone early in their set, eventually washing even their most infectiously poppy songs in the magnificently gloomy synthesizers that distinguish the epic album. Following bandmates Simon Gallup, Perry Bamonte, Jason Cooper and Roger O'Donnell onto the stage after the song's towering introduction, goth icon and frontman Robert Smith slowly grabbed his mic, singing at a whisper, "'I think it's dark and looks like rain' you said/'and the wind is blowing like it's the end of the world' you said'/'and it's so cold it's like the cold if you were dead' you said/and then you smiled for a second." That same smile then emerged from his lips, and along with his signature eyeliner and ghoulishly chaotic hair, evoked an image of the 1980's' most dynamic frontman that even a decade's worth of flab and wrinkles couldn't destroy.

An eclectic set followed, drawing from nearly every album in The Cure's enormous repertoire. Popular singles like the energetic "In Between Days," the driving "A Night Like This" and the classic "Lovesong" (recently repopularized by a 311 cover) elicited the greatest applauses from the packed amphitheater. But it was dreary dirges like "The Figurehead" and "Closedown" interspersed throughout the evening that could have fooled novice fans into believing that a quarter-century's worth of material may have come from a single album, and allowing the show a rare cohesiveness for a band with such history. After over 90 minutes, The Cure ended their set with the apocalyptic "One Hundred Years," followed by the title-track from Disintegration.

If the main set was largely gloomy, the opposite was true for the pair of encores that followed. The Cure's first return to the stage included surprises such as "Close to Me," current single, "The End of the World," the off-kilter yet bouncy, "The Lovecats," and-for the first time on the tour-"Friday I'm in Love." After fumbling several of the song's lyrics, Smith quipped, "I didn't really forget the lyrics; I was just extemporating."

The band excusably broke the mood of the encore with the eerily slinking "Lullaby," bringing shivers to the crowd as projected images of arachnids creepily scuttled across a backdrop. The danceable "Why Can't I Be You?" rounded out the first encore as the band rushed offstage for a quick break.

The instantly recognizable opening bass notes of "Just Like Heaven"-the second encore's first song-were met by the screams, yells, kisses and hugs of both the teenagers and adults in the amphitheater. That the teenage couples of both 1987 and 2004 can refer to it as "their song" shows just how timeless the oddball English goth outfit ultimately proved to be. As they closed with the immortal "Boys Don't Cry," Robert Smith's shy smile glimmered again beneath the makeup and hair, once again reminding the crowd just how enduring his life's work has been.