Mike Nicholls packs his bags and heads for northern Italy to catch THE CULT on their ceremonial stomp. Billy Duffy and Ian Astbury tell him how they forged a relationship with their own musical environment.
ALL OUR YESTERDAYS
Ian and Billy are on the road again. It's an environment which suits them as demonstrated by the results of THE CULT's last World tour. Their 1989 trek pushed the sales of the Sonic Temple album past the 3 million mark. The Cult's current international outing is being called this "Ceremonial Stomp." The ceremony, to coin a phrase and capture the title off their new LP, has just begun.
We catch up with them in Milan, Northern Italy, just ahead of late November's UK leg of the tour. Milan is currently on a high. It's a city of high fashion and late night clubs. To the outsider it appears no more glamorous than, say, Manchester or Newcastle. But at eight quid for a packet of nuts from the hotel mini bar, others obviously beg to differ.
The gig is at an ice hockey rink holding around four to five thousand. In America, where The Cult have lived intermittently since 1988, they tend to play to double that number. The recession in the States has led to a lot of empty seats. Billy Duffy is well aware of this and wonders whether the band will be playing smaller venues come the Spring.
We catch up with them in Milan, Northern Italy, just ahead of late November's UK leg of the tour. Milan is currently on a high. It's a city of high fashion and late night clubs. To the outsider it appears no more glamorous than, say, Manchester or Newcastle. But at eight quid for a packet of nuts from the hotel mini bar, others obviously beg to differ.
The gig is at an ice hockey rink holding around four to five thousand. In America, where The Cult have lived intermittently since 1988, they tend to play to double that number. The recession in the States has led to a lot of empty seats. Billy Duffy is well aware of this and wonders whether the band will be playing smaller venues come the Spring.
"Then again," he reflects "Ceremony sold half a million copies over there the week it was released so we should be okay. Of course, its radio and video [MTV etc.] play which helps you sell records, not playing live. But gigs help convince the people who come and see you that you're pretty good. The genuine article as opposed to a studio product that can't cut it live."According to singer in Asbury, Billy is one of the greatest rock guitarists around. Few would disagree with him except for some of the bitchier British critics, who, for some reason, have never liked The Cult. It's a syndrome which dates back to the mid-80s and the band's exceptional second album, Love. A fine platter of heartfelt rock songs, it was a disc out of time. It had little in common with anything else that was going down - not that much was:
"The problem with Love," says Billy, "is that it was 'Love' in a void. In 1985 there was nothing going on except HOWARD JONES and the THOMPSON TWINS. I guess we've always been a little out of sync but in the long term that's pretty good because it means there's no bandwagon to fall off."
"Moving to LA [around the time of recording the next but one album, Sonic Temple] meant not having to constantly justify oneself," adds Astbury. "Even going out in London meant constantly being challenged by other musos. If I told someone socially that we'd just returned from America and Japan and we're now in the studio trying to get the guitars louder, people would say, 'Well, that's way out of date, isn't it?' I recall having that sort of conversation with someone from SIGUE SIGUE SPUTNIK. But where are they now?" He wonders without too much of a gloat.Another potential problem The Cult could face in this country is their use of American Indian imagery. Not that songs like "Wild Hearted Son," a tribal chant if ever there was one, is the direct result of Ian being impressed with the Kevin Costner movie Dances With Wolves.
Those with reasonable memories may recall that back in the early 80s Ian fronted a band called SOUTHERN DEATH CULT, named after an article he'd spotted in a flat mates anthropology textbook. This combined with his own faintly exotic upbringing has led to an ongoing admiration of the Indian lifestyle.
"When I was twelve I lived in Canada," Asbury explains. "The native people of that country are Indians, and I was exposed to American Indian culture as a result of the kids I went to school with. They were my peer group and we didn't fit in with mainstream North American society. I really became aware of this when I went to visit a reservation and I was able to identify with their cultural heritage."The picture is completed when Ian describes his own roots. His mother was Scottish whilst his father was descended from Irish smugglers.
"Pagan British people who have been in the UK for more than 30,000 years," he says authoritatively.The main reason why Ian is now using his ancestral and childhood roots as inspiration for some of The Cult songs is ecological. Like many of us, he realises we are face-to-face with the final countdown:
"It's becoming more and more obvious that our relationship with the environment is becoming more and more serious. Until recently, the whole concept of getting back to nature and being in harmony with the earth was regarded as drippy and pretentious," he continues. "That's why they're making films about it. "He describes Dances With Wolves as "a White Western."
"It is difficult for me to pass comment, but I feel it was a bit out of touch and a bit patronising considering the culture has been around for thousands of years. I was in Rapid City, South Dakota, during the filming. I met a lot of kids who were extras, all very excited at getting $100 a day and going out and blowing it on booze and stuff. But when Hollywood went back home, the kids returned to reservation life, which is pretty much a ghetto situation. So far, I don't think we've been accused of jumping on the American Indian bandwagon," he goes on. "I mean it wasn't that successful was it?"
"It won seven Oscars," replies Billy dryly.
"But its success was only on the level of general entertainment," counters Astbury. "I don't think all of a sudden everyone ran out and started getting into red Indian culture."Not like the posse or fans who turned up to see Southern Death Cult on The Tube in 1982. Soon afterwards the band toured with the oddly political THEATRE OF HATE, who's guitarist, albeit briefly, was one Billy Duffy. Both bands spontaneously combusted soon afterwards and a mutual admiration pact found Ian and Billy in DEATH CULT, later renamed The Cult.
Throughout the 80s the band went through constant changes, including line-ups, management, and even musical ones. For example, they scrapped their third album and brought in producer Rick Rubin, the man mainly responsible for bringing together polar opposites rap and metal when he started the Def Jam label.
"We had nothing to lose," Billy recalls. "Our music didn't fit into any of the established categories, and all traditional role models had been smashed to pieces. It's only been in the last couple of years that bands like LED ZEPPELIN and THE STONES have been acclaimed again.Not that The Cult need to worry about defending themselves. Except that the Electric album was a little OTT, daHlings...
Yet for me, one of the most pure ways of expressing angst in music has always been through the guitar. And Rick made the observation that rock is the strongest music going. Making that album Electric in New York was the next logical step. There seemed to be a vacuum in Britain, which meant you were forever going round in circles. Unless you breakout of that and take your music to other countries, you remain this insular, paranoid sort of person.
You end up being a taxi cab in order to pay off the mortgage. It was not the route we wanted to take, so, having already fallen foul of the trends in Britain, we decided to take on a bigger challenge.
I mean it's not that hard to just concentrate on Britain and get yourself in the Daily Mirror although not even TRANSITION VAMP appear capable of doing that anymore. Out of all our peers - THE SISTERS, THE MISSION, BAUHAUS - we were always the most rock'n'roll, much to the derision of the press. But Ian is a rock singer with a very powerful voice, and that's the way I tend to play guitar," concludes Billy, stating an exemplary case for the defence.
"Rick had a very pure vision and he was not at all interested in 'that pussy music which comes out of England' as he put it. That vision coincided with ours. On the other hand," continues Duffy, "I wouldn't necessarily use him again, because he's into a totally stylised approach and only seems to make one kind of record. But it was a matter of stripping away the bullshit and getting back to basic rock and roll. It was cleansing, a bit of surgery went on. He scraped away some of the psychedelia of Love, which in the States holds you back, restricts you to being a college band. "
The Cult, Billy in particular, worry that by redefining themselves for the American market, they have left themselves open to accusations of lacking patriotism. They also feel that commentators over here have gone on too long about the band relocating to LA. In late '91 the party line is that, no, they don't go motorcycling with Mickey Rourke and other Hollywood celebrities. And that, furthermore, they don't even own properties in Southern California, London remaining home as we know it.
But even before that, in his mid-to-late teens he was in a band called THE NOSEBLEEDS for the princely total of two gigs. The lead singer was a gent answering to the name of Stephen MORRISSEY. If all this sounds highly unlikely, I can vouch that I saw said combo in action at the Ritz Ballroom, Manchester in the spring of 78, supporting MAGAZINE and JOHN COOPER CLARK. But what of punk and the current tidal wave of nostalgia, TV documentaries, 600-page books and so on?
Mike Nicholls
Riff Raff
December 1991
"The press seem fascinated with our Hollywood lifestyle," complains Duffy, "but the fact of the matter is, because we sell most records there, that's where we spend a lot of time. Whatever, for the next six or eight months, home will be on the road."
If The Cult are now a full-blooded British rock band (fine-tuned to the US market) it is only the latest, if apparently permanent, stage in an ongoing metamorphosis. Back in the early days, Astbury could have been classified a goth. Along with SEX GANG CHILDREN, Southern Death Cult led the genre, while the BANSHEES/CURE etc. were original motivating forces. Duffy meanwhile, was a latter-day punk. Prior to Theatre of Hate he was in the STUDIO SWEETHEARTS with a shower of former fellow Mancunians, who for a while were notorious as SLAUGHTER AND THE DOGS.
Not many people could carry off the American Indian Nazi Armadillo look
But even before that, in his mid-to-late teens he was in a band called THE NOSEBLEEDS for the princely total of two gigs. The lead singer was a gent answering to the name of Stephen MORRISSEY. If all this sounds highly unlikely, I can vouch that I saw said combo in action at the Ritz Ballroom, Manchester in the spring of 78, supporting MAGAZINE and JOHN COOPER CLARK. But what of punk and the current tidal wave of nostalgia, TV documentaries, 600-page books and so on?
"I just hope it doesn't degenerate into a parody of one of those 60s packages starring PJ PROBY and the TREMELOES," remarks Ian. "Originally punk was important for its attitude, not the ability of the bands to play their instruments. But we've learned to play and find out about the original influences. In the same way as the Stones were inspired by the Blues, so were the original punk bands, like the SEX PISTOLS and GENERATION X."
"I saw the Sex Pistols at the Electric Circus long before Sid Vicious joined and the audience was full of rock fans," Duffy agrees. "The fashion came later. In fact I remember seeing BEPOP DELUXE and the DOCTORS OF MADNESS at the Free Trade Hall, then crossing the street to clock JOHNNY THUNDERS AND THE HEARTBREAKERS at Rafters. All the original punk bands were rock orientated. It was only the second generation lot, like the UK SUBS and THE EXPLOITED who were more interested in wearing bin liners and dyeing their hair."
All of which is purely academic as far as Michael Lee is concerned. Cult's new drummer, who was just eight-years-old when the Anarchy tour hit town. Now aged 23, he has the technique of someone much more experienced then the former 'LITTLE ANGEL' that he is.
"Apparently we were his inspiration," says Duffy. "The Cult were his favourite band and it was his ambition to join us. Some producer actually gave me a tape of his on the street. So when GUNS N' ROSES nicked Matt Sorum, he was the first in line for an audition."
The other newcomer is the impressively named Kinley Wolf on base, a friend of the American manager's wife. But it is still very much an Astbury/ Duffy combo, the former prowling the stage in beige Stetson and snakeskin pants, the latter hammering out power cords with the finest of most every great guitarist you can think of.
On "Edie (Ciao, Baby)" he downlines to an electric acoustic, while further shade is provided by the new album's "Sweet Salvation," an ode to Ian's new girlfriend Heather.
And so the tour prowls on, The Colt flying their rock flag high and pleased that others are picking up on the baton.
And so the tour prowls on, The Colt flying their rock flag high and pleased that others are picking up on the baton.
"Compared to a few years ago, there's lots of good stuff around," enthuses Billy. "METALLICA are better than ever and that new NIRVANA single deserves to be a hit. SKID ROW are pretty good in the context of American metal and SOUNDGARDEN don't sound like anyone else. So I'm very optimistic. At least you can go into a record shop and buy something that's not by a dead person. I guess right now I'm pretty happy with the way things are."
And if that something happens to be a cult record, you'll make him even happier.
Mike Nicholls
Riff Raff
December 1991
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