The Cult

Rock icons The Cult have always had an eclectic fan-base of Goths, jocks, head-bangers and suburbanites, amongst others. Wednesday’s Fillmore gig can add post-production professionals to the mix as Filmcore’s own Doug Walker, Tim Brooks, Carl Cordova, Brian Lagerhausen, Kat Keegan and yours truly, Tim Fender, were in attendance for what would kick off the band’s 2006 tour.

Commencing with pizza and beers at Pizza Inferno we were in an anticipatory mood as we loped down Fillmore Street towards the hallowed doors of The Fillmore. Following the prerequisite security pat-down everyone headed for the bar except me because I had been imbibing all afternoon with our very own Nikki Winig at Club Filmcore. Why drink $5 beers when you can suck them down for free? Thanks Ascent Media.

After anticipating the show for weeks due to Carl’s heavy iTunes rotation of the classic albums “Love”, “Electric” and “Sonic Temple” we were eager for the house lights to dim, but would have to wait as The Cult must have been getting their substances aligned backstage. Or perhaps they were pondering the fact that they were only the second most famous cult to populate the block after Jim Jones, who had previously housed his People’s Temple next door. In any event we were ready to drink the hard rock Kool-Aid, along with the sold-out crowd of 40ish white dudes (present company excluded) who somehow found the time to break away from an evening of “American Idol”.

Finally at 9:15, founding members Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy took to the stage and were joined on drums by metal basher John Tempesta (Testament, Helmet, White Zombie), longhaired bassist Chris Wyse (Ozzy Osbourne, Jerry Cantrell) and a bespectacled rhythm guitarist who only occasionally emerged from the shadows and shall remain anonymous.

Opening with a rousing rendition of “War” off 2001’s “Beyond Good and Evil”, we were treated to a camouflage draped Astbury striking a Rock-God like pose at the edge of the stage, legend status intact. Meanwhile, Duffy parked it in front of his wall of Marshalls, conjuring up the image of 1989’s “Sonic Temple” cover-art. Technical difficulties threatened to mar the festivities not long after however, but surprisingly, the band rolled with it. Putting up with several microphone failures, the likes of which are usually only seen in Filmcore’s Avid rooms, Astbury had to make due by utilizing bassist Wyse’s microphone on “New York City”. The notoriously pouty Astbury at one point even joked that the band had found their flustered microphone technician toiling at a Radio Shack. Likewise, Tempesta soldiered on despite having to have his hi-hat clutch reaffixed mid-song after it loosened from his assault. Guitarist Duffy seemed a tad miffed however when his Les Paul ceased to function midway through “Rain”, a song he had just introduced as one of his favorites.

Following one of their more forgettable numbers, “The Witch”, the rhythm section vacated so Astbury and Duffy could convene center-stage ala Robert Plant and Jimmy Page and perform an acoustic version of “Edie (Ciao Baby)”. This had the potential to be an embarrassing, Spinal Tappish, moment, but guitarist Duffy showed himself to be more than just a power-chord wielding Neanderthal and Astbury’s exposed lyrics took on a more emotional slant than the electrified version normally allows. The site of the two, oft-feuding band-mates performing under a lone spotlight left the impression that future collaborations could also be in the works.

“Revolution” followed and helped ramp up the energy for perhaps the best moment of the night, “Peace Dog”. Utilizing the song’s final, fiery chorus, Astbury connected with the audience in a spirited back and forth of “PEACE!”… “DOG!” which somehow seemed fitting in the city that brought you the Summer of Love. Editor Walker was particularly moved as he thrust his cast-laden broken arm skyward, pain notwithstanding. Following this spectacle, Skinsman Tempesta kicked “Fire Woman” into high gear with a thunderous flam on his snare that made it clear all his metal schooling had not gone to waste. Rounding out the set were “Wonderland”, “Sweet Soul Sister” and “Rise”. “Sweet Soul Sister” especially satisfying with it’s “hustle and strut” lyrical breakdown by the now t-shirt clad Astbury that had even the skeptical Tim Brooks bobbing his shaven skull to and fro.

Next it was time for the obligatory encores and the crowd, given it’s advanced age, anticipated 20 more minutes of bashing, followed soon thereafter by bedtime. What we were treated to though was “The Phoenix” which featured a wonderful wah-wah guitar intro and concise, rock-solid solos by bassist Wyse and the relentless Tempesta. Next up was “She Sells Sanctuary” which saw the opening guitar lick doubled to 16 bars because sometimes 8 isn’t enough. This effective technique was also used to build the intensity during the bridge so that the song’s signature drum break felt even more powerful. Apparently 2 decades of performing has taught The Cult a thing or two about getting the most bang for their 1985 buck.

Encore 2 was a return to basics, with the bone-crunching splendor of “Wild Flower” (performed just 2 nights earlier on The Craig Ferguson Show) and “Love Removal Machine”. It was the later’s fast-paced, punk-inspired conclusion that finally finished us off and sent us out into the rainy night with commemorative posters in our hands, smiles on our faces and a ringing in our ears which ought to last until the next time The Cult rolls through in 2010.

- The above was lovingly crafted by Mr. Timothy Fender.