Along the way, the bands that Ian Astbury had the names of his bands get concatenated along the way. First there was Southern Death Cult and when he left that band, Death Cult was the little bird that flapped from those ashes after Astbury struck out on his own from the rest of the band. Now teamed up with long-time guitarist Billy Duffy, they would drop ‘Death’ after a couple of singles in less than one year to become simply The Cult.
Duffy and Astbury decided to dust off some of the early material and play a proper Death Cult show as part of this tour (with their second set billed just as The Cult), the first time they’ve toured the US under that name. Let’s not quibble too hard over some of the songs in the opening set, as there were definitely a few off Dreamtime, a record that came out under The Cult banner and not Death Cult.
So, what’s the difference? The earlier material has a much more goth and minor feel, in the fog feel to it, and also explores Astbury’s fascination with First World nation culture. (I always thought it was odd that a Brit would delve so deeply into this world until I just learned that he spent a lot of his formative youth living in Ontario, Canada). There are definitely strains of contemporary bands such as The Mission, Red Lorry Yellow Lorry and Fields of the Nephelim but the topics explored in their songs made it clear that they were on their own path.
Dubbed the 8325 tour, it made sense to get things going with a song from 1983, and “Ghost Dance” did the honors behind a gossamer scrim that momentarily obscured the band. The loping bass line and busy drum fills kicked up the right amount of dust, and Astbury’s voice was on point. The familiar white Gretsch Falcon did the talking in Duffy’s hands, his slicked back hair, sunglasses and biker jacket exuding the detached coolness he’s cultivated for years.
A lot of this material hasn’t been played since 1983, so this tour is a real treat for the diehard fans who wanted something different from the usual Cult tour. “Horse Nation” and “Gods Zoo” still sounded fresh, like the day some of you likely pulled those 7” singles from the import racks at record shops who had an ear to what was happening in the post-punk landscape across the ocean. I was a little surprised that “Brothers Grimm” wasn’t on the set list, and since four songs from Dreamtime were played, it was also a little bit of a lost opportunity not to play “Rider In The Snow,” that was re-recorded and re-christened from Death Cult’s “Too Young (Riders In The Snow).” That said, the shamanistic “Spiritwalker” was the clear highlight of the set, and hearing “Ressurection Joe” (sic) which was added to later copies of the record was an unexpected treat.
After a short break, the band returned in fresh stage wear, the burly Charlie Jones showing off his gym efforts while playing his custom acrylic Fender P Bass. Astbury came out in a winter parka that must have had him roasting inside, but he kept it on for a few songs. Duffy opted for a simple black denim shirt and a series of black guitars to complement the look. As The Cult, the band’s profile was elevated substantially, and they shed their goth trappings for a more popular but also a bit more generic hard rock direction. Leaning on hip producers like Rick Rubin (Electric) and Bob Rock (Sonic Temple), big riffs were the fuel to get significant MTV and radio play via “Love Removal Machine,” “Wild Flower,” and “Fire Woman.” These sounded great and got a big crowd response, but for me the material off the transitory Love had a stronger grip on the thematic and sonic elements of the Death Cult work, and they also boasted two of their biggest hits with “Rain” and show closer “She Sells Sanctuary.”
As mentioned before, Astbury’s voice held up strongly throughout the show, but he weirdly truncated the vocal sustain parts on the chorus of “Rain,” the only wrinkle I noticed. Another minor note was the inclusion of the pre-recorded acoustic guitar chords in the same song, but it’s as pretty essential part of the song and didn’t make sense to have a second guitarist on board just for a small part like that. Again, minor observations from an overall really strong show. One last parting thought: Astbury must have a rider in their contract to supply a dozen tambourines as not only did he play one a lot, he was also generous in handing out unexpected gifts as well, mainly to the front row of fans but also one to a lucky fan via an accurate toss to the upper balcony wing. Oh, and his hackysack skills are pretty good too.
The LA-based duo known as Patriarchy took the stage first, and it was hard to discern any sort of details through the thick gauze of chemical smoke. Their sound had a sex dungeon vibe to it, heavy on electric beats and they offered band-branded panties at the merch table. One of those bands where you’d expect that latex clothing comprises about 40% of their wardrobe.
