When Ian Astbury of The Cult first spoke to the Spark Arena crowd on Thursday night, he said it had been a while - around 30 years since they were here for The Big Day Out Festival (1995).
Looking around at the crowd, most of us aren’t burning down the night and setting the world alight as much as we used to. But still, what was with the seating on the main floor? Are we able to stand up to enjoy one of the gruntiest rock acts of the '80s as one usually would in the GA section?
Surely you don’t want us to sit down for a rock n roll show!
It turns out the members of The Cult were apprehensive about how the show would go too. A fantastically fit-looking Ian Astbury revealed they hadn’t gelled with us on their previous jaunts. In the festival environment of The Big Day Out, the band felt uncomfortable with the green room debauchery of Primal Scream at their hedonistic peak. Kurt Cobain’s widow lowered the tone on-stage and off, yet festival-goers knew more about the Courtney ‘LOVE’ album than the groundbreaking Cult album of ‘85. A band named Sonic Youth held more relevance than 1989’s Sonic Temple.
It was a tough crowd and a tough time for the band as the ‘goth rock’ label further marred any attempts to transition, and with the tide changing musically they struggled to connect with this cross-section of Gen X Kiwis before them. Reportedly, there was an altercation behind the scenes when Astbury was given the 'yeah nah, you can’t come backstage without a lanyard' treatment by a security guard.
A more engaged crowd turned up for the band in 2010, but nowhere near as many Kiwi fans showed up, barely filling Trusts Arena. That night Astbury implored the men in the crowd to grow their hair long again ("It's okay, it's cool"), bagged Lady Gaga ("I wouldn't let my daughter go home with her") and gave a shout-out to Willie Apiata ("He's bad-ass").
They came again in 2016 - and played a sold-out show at The Powerstation. It's safe to say we’re not always at our most enthusiastic on a Monday night.
So here we are in 2024, and this time they are greeted by a much larger audience. There was no suggestion of growing hair long (if you’re lucky enough to still have it, don’t rub it in). But it was the same, rich, clear voice of the spirited frontman Ian Astbury that arrived on stage, whipping the mic, rocking some Japanese-style swagger, this time he was bagging Guns 'n Roses, “actually we were THEIR teachers”, and a shout-out to journalist David Farrier?
Billy Duffy’s guitar rang out as we sang along to melodies that couldn’t be further from whatever goth rock is supposed to be. John Tempesta, just as dynamic, but less showy than Matt Sorum belted out all those iconic drum riffs, while Charlie Jones rolled out bass lines basking in just a hint of stage mist.
In case you were wondering; yes, we all remained seated down the front in our rows of plastic chairs. Right up until the Cult’s charismatic leader opened his mouth to sing the first line of the first song. Quickly we were up, spilling all our drinks and wildly abandoning the seating plan. We trusted the shaman with the tambourine would help us summon enough energy to remain standing, and connect with this band we totally respect and love. It's just we’ve been at work all day, y’know? "I gotta work ya," Ian said, and with a few extra shakes of the maracas, he swept us up in a slew of epic Cult classics.
Ninety minutes passed, the show was over and the bond between the band and the crowd had been repaired. With guitar in hand and a hand on his heart, Billy promised us this was the best show they’d had on the tour. Excellent, not sure how many shows into the tour you are sir, but LOVE that we’re all friends now.
Ciao til next time Baby!
