Review: The Cult at Metro City
The Cult at Metro City
w/ Mayatrix & the Psychics
Saturday, November 30, 2024
With 40 years of cult hits, it was always going to be interesting to see which tunes made the cut on Saturday night.
Despite quasi-gothic and Southern Death Cult beginnings, for most of their duration, The Cult have been known as hard rockers leaning towards glam metal (they’ve shared band members with the likes of Guns N’ Roses).
True to form, guitar god Billy Duffy ruled the stage with monster riffage from the get-go, while eccentric frontman Ian Astbury slowly got his mojo rising to get the most out of a packed Metro City.
But not before Mayatrix & the Psychics had their way with the early arrivals. And what an impression the local outfit left, working the stage like the professionals they are (it’s no wonder they scored the entire national tour).
Clad in black leather outfits, they not only looked the part but, with the sort of pagan spiritual incantations that would make Astbury himself blush, and singer Moana Mayatrix’s abundant stage presence, they enchanted the heavily male-dominated crowd.
It was a bit of a sausage fest, truth be told, and probably not the venue a bunch of 50-60-year-old blokes would rather be in. But from the moment the familiar chords of Wild Flower rang out three tracks in, The Cult had everyone’s attention (Love Removal Machine to close the main set later would make it two out of two from 1987 record Electric).
Following In the Clouds and Rise to kickstart the show, it was a reminder this tour, titled 8424 to represent the 40 years since the release of debut album Dreamtime in 1984, would reach deep but also wide.
Dreamtime produced two songs with the deep cut Resurrection Joe midway, and later Spirit Walker at the set’s peak. The latter rang out as a template of sorts for the lyrics that Astbury would become famous for, back when they were just a new band from Bradford, England, and long before his infatuation with Native American spirituality that would lead to him filling in as singer for The Doors in the 2000s.
These days Astbury looks more like an LA hipster, clad in designer, boho threads and his custom black headband. His was a typically moody performance that included warnings against joining a rock and roll band. Some tracks like Lucifer were poorly placed at the peak of the set, and the absence of anything from 1991’s underrated Ceremony was keenly felt at these moments, suggesting The Cult don’t always know what they’re best at.
But would we really want Astbury’s eccentricities any other way? He’s a rock and roll survivor who has maintained currency throughout a storied career; check out his collaborations with UNKLE or his latest album, Under the Midnight Sun, for proof. The latter produced Mirror early on, and it was far from embarrassed following early standouts Star and The Witch.
The big hits also fared well, with an acoustic Edie (Ciao Baby) really kickstarting the night, before Sweet Soul Sister and Fire Woman continued to illustrate the importance of 1989 hit album Sonic Temple to their discography.
The best bits came via an epic Brother Wolf, Sister Moon in the encore, predictably making way for a rampaging She Sells Sanctuary to close out the night.
“Keeps me alive! Keeps me alive!”
As we danced and shouted along to this enduring ode about the world spinning around, the magic of the Cult’s 40-year patchwork quilt came into focus like a whirling dervish finds calm at the centre of the storm: find your sanctuary through the chaos in your own way; nothing else is going to keep you alive.
HARVEY RAE
Photos by Adrian Thomson
