The Cult's Ian Astbury Spits Water at Crowd Texter and Talks "Selfies" at Revolution Live
Better than: Flying to New York for a Killing Joke show and having the band cancel last minute.
The Cult's frontman, Ian Astbury, is a firm believer in the sanctity of music in a live setting. In a time when more than a handful of the Cult's contemporaries are happy to press "play" on a series of canned backing tracks, wallow about in their history on stage, and take your money, the Cult has managed to make each show a truly special and unique experience. Last night's Revolution Live show was rife with the sort of unexpected moments that just don't seem to happen at rock shows anymore. The walls and corridors were lined with the Cult's faithful flock. They gathered to pay homage to one of the band's most revered works, Electric, and to bask in the presence of a proper rock band reaching for a higher vibration.
Opening for the Cult was a psychedelic rock band from New York by the name of White Hills. The trio attempted to take the rowdy crowd on a journey to the outer reaches of spacey psychedelia via its brand of guitar driven psych. Frontman, Dave W, donned a mask of silver paint and played burning and adventurous guitar solos that nodded toward the '70s most heroic fuzz gods. Bass player, Ego Sensation -- decked out in a pair red sequined bell-bottoms and a velour shirt with fringed sleeves -- thumped away at heady rhythms on her plexiglass Dan Armstrong bass, successfully holding down the fort (space station?) during W's guitar led astral wanderings. The band won over the initially impatient crowd with its theatrical sounds and look.
The Cult took the stage looking like a bunch of rock 'n' roll mystics that had been swept in by the wind. They proceeded to kick the night into high gear with the percussive opening chords of "Wildflower." Astbury stood before the riotous crowd, an unflappable pillar of confidence greeting his constituents with the shake of a tambourine as he slowly worked his way into the state of transcendence necessary for a proper Cult performance. By the time the band reached the chant portion of "Peace Dog," the audience was at a fever pitch. The band had found its footing, seeding an energy in the room that truly was electric, if you will.
The Electric set continued with Astbury ironically asking the audience to "cool it down a bit" with a nod, and what we'd like to think was a wink, between songs. Throughout the night, Astbury nonchalantly flung tambourines at the audience, punctuating his lyrics with his trademark animalistic barks and grunts.
Billy Duffy was an absolute monster throughout the affair, crunching out bone-shaking chords from a low slung Les Paul and lacing songs with intricate lines of delayed guitar and muscular solos. The solo Duffy played during "Love Removal Machine" was a particularly raucous event, colored with shades of Jimmy Page, but replete with Duffy's own, inimitable swagger. The Electric set did not include the cover of "Born to be Wild" that appears on the album, but was happily replaced by "Zap City," a live staple from the formerly unreleased Peace album that was intended to precede Electric.
Aside from the abandoned tossing of what had to be a baker's dozen tambourines at the audience, Astbury's interaction with fans was unique to say the least. At one point, a man seated in the VIP section was enjoying a piece of cake when he caught the singer's eye. Astbury calmly walked over, leaned towards the man and returned to the stage with the piece of cake, where he enjoyed a few bites during one of Duffy's guitar outings before handing the cake back. However, there was an exchange that occurred at the end of the Electric set that was a bit less cordial.