The Cult @ First Avenue

An image of a Native American reminiscent of the iconography that has adorned the Cult’s albums their entire career was projected onto the screen as Billy Duffy strode up the steps to the stage and took his creamy white Gretsch from the roadie. The other band members assembled on stage while Ian Astbury joined in on tambourine to sing the opening lyrics to “Nirvana.” We have arrived—Love, played live from beginning to end, as it was always intended to be heard.

My first introduction to this masterpiece (happy, optimistic music as confessed by Astbury later in the show) was in 1986 when my friend put it on a mix tape for me, shared like a secret. I covet British imports and this one is my desert island album.

“Nirvana” was a strong opener, and established the revved-up tempo for the rest of the night. Astbury paused before the second song, “The Big Neon Glitter,” to address the crowd with a trademark and enthusiastic “thaaank you,” that sounded like a southern preacher man. And then Billy Duffy’s familiar chords triumphantly introduced the album’s title track “Love” with its inviting: “C’mon now/Wanna dig the scene?” “Brother Wolf, Sister Moon” was dedicated to “indigenous friends” and created a somber but beautiful mood. “Rain,” is my favorite song on the album, and live its driving rhythm begged for lank hair girls to wave their arms in that dreamy, mystic way seen on all dance floors circa 1985. At the dramatic finish of this number, Astbury’s lead vocals were layered over the band’s backing vocals and the effect was a truly harmonious breakdown. The song “The Phoenix” realized its full psychedelic majesty, and was complemented by suitably trippy visions projected onto the screen behind the stage. The bouncy “The Hollow Man,” featuring Duffy’s jangly guitar work, was the perfect escapist reverie before scenes of notable historical events were shown on the backdrop, framing the introspective and gorgeous “Revolution,” my favorite song of the night. I noticed that Astbury changed the lyrics ever so slightly to “all my beautiful friends have faded away.”

“She Sells Sanctuary” was the fantastic ride it promised to be, with the crowd dancing along wildly. The finale, “Black Angel,” a live rarity, was indeed a “siren’s call” courtesy of Astbury’s velvety voice set against a seascape washed in red, and was a fitting and dramatic goodbye before the short intermission.

The Cult returned to the stage and played two songs from Electric; “Electric Ocean” and “Wildflower,” during which Duffy raised his arm into his patented rock god guitar pose. “Illuminated,” from Born Into This, was unfamiliar to most of the crowd, and was followed by “Rise” a single from Beyond Good and Evil. Astbury announced that the next song needed no introduction, “so it’s not getting one,” before Duffy added, “get your ’80′s rock on,” and went into the familiar riffs of “Fire Woman,” which proved to be a real rocker, and was received by the audience with much jumping and stomping.

After the song’s end, the lyrics to “Little Red Corvette,” “just slipped,” from Astbury’s lips, but then he caught himself, and apologized with, “you must be so sick of that shit,” before adding, “Brett Favre, you sports fans, that’s not football,” and went on to describe English football to the crowd before getting “back to the show” with “Dirty Little Rock Star.” At the song’s conclusion, Astbury introduced the band and announced that this was their last song because they don’t do encores. It was poignant to me that the show ended with “Love Removal Machine.” Laced with: “Baby, baby, baby,” it’s a cold and jaded contrast to the romantic ideals of Love, but it rocks nonetheless.

Twenty years later, the embellishments that make Love magical translated wonderfully live for this unique and memorable performance.

[Review by guest contributor Jennifer Hood.]