Embrace the wind with both arms! The Cult kicked ass at Avalon a week ago Wednesday — beery, white, early-40s, predominantly male, and somewhat non-reactive ass. They kicked it repeatedly, with high professional zest, looking for signs of life. “Boston . . . what the fuck?” grumbled Ian Astbury from beneath his headband. “I’m just not used to these chilled-out audiences.” He diagnosed the problem: “Too much Starbucks and TV.” Astbury still does his stamping-in-the-ceremonial-ashes dance, and he still shivers a wicked tambourine. After all these years, the affectations of the shaman are intact. “This is a living, breathing band,” he assured us. “You can move to the music. I won’t judge you.” Guitarist Billy Duffy, his great golden head inclined in disapproval, was sterner: “Are you just gonna stand there? Trust me, I do this for a living. Get involved!”
“Li’l Devil,” “Rain,” “Spiritwalker” . . . Only the Cult sound like the Cult. Their unique biker-goth fusion, the AC/DC undercarriage toiling sweatily in the mystic shimmer of the Duffy riffs, is to be marveled at. And Astbury, with his tang of super-bullshit and his panting, clotted voice, has always been a hell of a frontman. “Yeah!” . . . “C’mon now!” . . . “Wooh!” . . . “Nah-nah-nah!” — after a certain secret number of these incantations had been uttered, the crowd began to go solemnly berserk. No longer enormous, the Cult have settled for being massive: this was a stadium show condensed to Avalon-scale. The wind roared, arena-size soundwaves and high-priestly flatulence. “There!” said Astbury, pleased, after flattening the place with “Wild Flower,” “That got the endorphins going!” For an encore, Duffy sat down next to Astbury and cradled an acoustic guitar. Classicism dispersed like incense through the club: the Cult “unplugged”! Was it awesome? Was it intense? You tell me — I went home. ’Cos I’m a wolf child, baby.
Related:
The Cult, Happy endings, Bye-Bye Ric, More 
- The Cult
Let’s be viral.
- Happy endings
The end is nigh! And I’m not talking about the mortgage market.
- Bye-Bye Ric
How do you revive a legendary band when the frontman isn’t interested?
- Last days of New Alliance
Wandering around the Fenway’s soon-to-be-demolished RFT building feels like spelunking through the bowels of Boston’s hard-rock scene.
- A cop with an assitude
Mr. McGee comes by his name honestly. He is, quite simply, an ass.
- Greased lightning
Oil has been discovered in a Brighton backyard.
- Media Moses
Bruce Wall is blessed with a talent for publicity.
- Keepin' it realtor
There’s an old Saturday Night Live sketch — not, truth be told, one of the show’s funniest moments — called “Rock & Roll Real-estate Agent.”
- Master of Hub hits
Greater Boston has witnessed a shocking amount of drama in the new year.
- The trolley Svengali
When the T works, we usually don’t notice. But when it doesn’t, our reaction is swift and severe.
- Wet, hot American summer
On June 2, 2106, it’s hot.
- Less
Topics:
Live Reviews
, Ian Astbury, THE CULT, THE CULT
