The Cult Regroup for a Warehouse Powerhouse

The Warehouse

Toronto, ON

on Jul 30 1999

Mistress Sass (CHARTattack)

08/03/1999 11:22am

Once upon a time, my confused musical taste buds took on a, how do you say, eclectic palate? But a mighty band emerged from the pack to lead my funky ass out of the can of bad pop and into nirvana, like a phoenix from the fiery wreckage. They had what I needed and they gave my musical soul asylum with what felt like an everlasting kiss.

But alas, without warning, my dreams were shattered as the band closest to my wild heart said, "Ciao babies." It began with a head shaving, and ended in a heart wrenching. For far too long, my eager ears have been awaiting the supposed forthcoming solo disc from the Ian Astbury. He of rockin' yelps and yeahs to rival the master, Robert Plant.

Needless to say, more than the heart of this wolf child started to tingle when the announcement rang through the wires: Cult... Warehouse... Toronto... Reunion. Gasp! Astbury and Duffy (Billy that is) together again (who says a whirlwind dreamer wishing in the wind with dried-out dandelions doesn't have a wish or two come true?).

Friday, July 30 couldn't come fast enough. I was wound up, couldn't sleep. Guest list with a plus one for the initiation of my beloved into the world of all things Cult. He's never been a rocker, but rather a progressive, electronica-guy. I'm confident a revolution will rain over him like a cyclone kiss tonight.

Can't be late, can't miss a solitary amplified chord, can't miss an opportunity to throw horns. I arrive right on time to feel the surge from the crowd run through me as the boys and their band ascend the stage. With possible set lists running through my sensory overloaded mind (hey! Be free of that idea. I was naturally high), I waited, baited and elated.

"Lil' Devil" was first to rip my head off and zap it into a city of sin. A pure Cult frenzy ensued, as hits both anticipated and not quite expected put me in a dizzy rock n' roll haze. A Cult brand of earthy soul, rock n' roll — nothing plastic, all fantastic — kept me doing a hip shake all night. Well actually, it all seemed too short. But isn't that always the way when a kick-ass bunch of joe's like The Cult resurrect themselves like a sunrise?


The Cult's Ian Astbury and Billy Duffy (Photo by Richard Beland)

Ian was the quintessential rock n' roller, never coming down or backing off of his soul shaking assault. And Billy. Can you say flying Dutchman? His sculpted arms made more windmills on that guitar than barbers have made bad haircuts on Aaron Brophy (according to the People's Editor himself). Ian definitely had the blues power baby, as he howled through a smokin' set that included "Sun King" (got mine), "Rain" (the other song from Love that radio stations play), "Wild Flower" (an ode to me in grade 11), "Edie (Ciao Baby)" (a sorrowful ballad of suicide sung surprisingly early in the set), "Sweet Soul Sister" (foreplay in a guitar lick performed just the way I like it: extended), "Peace Dog" (an Electric favourite perfect for crowd chanting), "Fire Woman" (I'll never forget the part in the video where Ian humps the stage), "The Witch" (the synthetics of the song were sadly missed, but the flavour was still to be found on the band's foray into 'Electronica'), "New York City" (damn well shocked my ass that they played this Sonic Temple rocker), "She Sells Sanctuary" (the absolute most recognizable song in the Cult catalogue, taken back and done right, as Ian promised).

Oh yeah, there was also a song that Ian named after it was over, but unfortunately I had a helluva time trying to decipher speech through that mic. It can best be said that it sounded an awful lot like "Free" from the 1995 album The Cult. Mind you, no one really knew what it was. New material perhaps?

Despite technical fiascos that quite tellingly irked Billy, and the fact that the Warehouse sucks rocks for sound, The Cult rocked theirs and everyone else's ass off. "It's all for you," Ian professed as he dedicated his timeless energy to the faithful. He even took a stab at one-time ally and dance music spewer Chris Sheppard in between crowd-pumping episodes that for the most part involved rock lines like, "Are you ready? Yeah!" And it was all so cool...

It was beautiful when he sang the last song: "Love Removal Machine," part two of a two-song encore that was preceded by a surprising "Phoenix." Sure paradise takes time, but who would've thought it could all be true so soon? Rock n' roll was made cool again this night.

Now if only Jamie Stewart could be put back into the mix...