The Cult were, for a brief period in the late 1980s, one of the largest rock bands on the planet. The core band members, singer Ian Astbury, guitarist Billy Duffy and bassist Jamie Stewart were set for huge global stardom. However, the dream soured, and The Cult began a stereotypical rock saga of falling from grace, experiencing friction, departures, more drummers than Spinal Tap¹ and finally disillusionment along the way. The band imploded, with the mutual decision to break up in the mid-1990s seeming to signal the end of the road.

The year 2000 has seen The Cult undergoing something of a revival, however. Following the obligatory solo albums and 'other projects'², a fresh album is in the works and (at time of writing) a reunion very much in evidence. It seems as if The Cult haven't abandoned their plans of conquest quite yet...

History

In the Beginning

The band formed in the late 1970s when a youth from Cheshire called Ian Astbury decided to set up a band. This was the start of the Southern Death Cult, a punk outfit that didn't quite fit the whole punk scene. For a start, Astbury was deeply influenced by many of the spiritual concepts of the late 1960s, as well as the shamanism of Native Americans. The band underwent a gradual metamorphosis, through one incarnation as the Death Cult when Mancunian Billy Duffy joined, and finally settled as The Cult. Their debut album Dreamtime (1984) was generally well-received in indie circles, but the band's cross-genre eclecticism was also a potential stumbling block. They were too goth for the mainstream, too heavy for the goths, yet too spiritual for the punk set.

Commercial High Point

The commercial and critical high-point for The Cult came after the release of their breakthrough second album, Love (1985). The stand-out single, 'She Sells Sanctuary', was such a success - in terms of impact, if not necessarily chart position - that it is still used for advertising purposes today.

The album's title was an allusion to the spirit of the band's influences from the late 1960s and early '70s, which included Led Zeppelin, the Doors and Jimi Hendrix, among others. Their sound was characterised by copious levels of effects and distortions; such psychedelia had not been in vogue for years, and the critics were initially condemnatory of the group for resurrecting such a bankrupt musical form. The public loved it, though, and The Cult were suddenly media darlings and NME cover material.

The First of Many Problems Begin

When the band tried to follow up on this success, the first of many problems reared its ugly head. Internal strife was beginning to take its toll on the group, with the chief songwriters, Astbury and Duffy, showing the early signs of their subsequently well-publicised estrangement. Astbury had taken to hotel room seclusion with his girlfriend, and his lyrics, unsurprisingly, were slow in coming. This meant that the rest of the band had far too much time on their hands with their incomplete next album, and thus it bore all the signs of over-production. The guitar sound was ridiculously effects-laden and every track was compacted beneath layers of overdubs and backing tracks.

Dissatisfaction gripped the group, and it appeared that The Cult's management had blown £200,000 on a dud album. A chance meeting with Rick Rubin - the producer who had turned the Beastie Boys from New York nobodies to household names with his contributions on their breakthrough album Licensed to Ill - resulted in his working with the band. Rubin's first decision was to ditch almost a whole album's worth of material and to strip The Cult's sound down to a bare, raw minimum. If the band wanted to sound like AC/DC, he reasoned, they'd have to play like AC/DC. Out went Duffy's effects pedals, in came a healthy dose of biker chic and serious attitude.

Whereas Love had turned heads because of its paradoxically 'fresh retro' appeal, the new album, Electric (1987), was a storming success because it embraced the formula that would conquer America: no-nonsense hard blues rock. The band set about a mammoth 18-month world tour, and this was when the trouble really started...

Profits Evaporate

The sheer intensity of life on the road was starting to tell, particularly on Astbury. He craved to make an impact at every venue he played, so in time-honoured Who style, instruments, drum-kits and hotel rooms all received serious trashings. So destructive did Astbury prove, as he began to struggle with serious alcohol consumption, that the tour profits began to evaporate in front of the management's eyes. They decided to cancel the lucrative Japanese leg of the tour, to prevent the group from self-destructing.

Upon their return to England, The Cult began work on a new album. This time, the producer was Bob Rock, the sound was the epitome of stadium rock, and the album Sonic Temple (1989), one of the highest-selling albums of the 1980s. The Cult were big business, putting on sell-out headline tours of the US with the likes of Guns 'N' Roses supporting, and appearances at the MTV Awards.

Astbury's Breaking Point

All was not well, though. Astbury had reached breaking-point. His alcohol consumption had hit dangerous levels and his cancer-stricken father was dying. No wonder that his performance at the aforementioned MTV Awards was somewhat lacking. It lacked singing, for a start. The rest of the band had to cover up and essentially played an instrumental version of their current single, 'Fire Woman', while Astbury stood and glowered on-stage.

Ironically, The Cult had, at this point, probably hit upon their most settled and productive line-up, with the three core members Astbury, Duffy and Stewart joined by American drummer Matt Sorum. This was a short-lived arrangement, though, as Stewart quit the band at the end of the Sonic Temple tour in 1990, sick and tired of having to be the constant mediator between Astbury and Duffy during their incessant squabbling. Guns 'N' Roses acquired the services of Sorum, leaving the group down to two members who were almost at each other's throats.

A Band out of Time

The Cult were effectively spent as a musical force with an inconsistent line-up and session musicians filling in, despite releasing two more albums, Ceremony (1992) and The Cult (1994). On the latter, which came after the Grunge phenomenon of the early 1990s had effectively hammered the final nail in the coffin of bombastic blues-based stadium rock, Astbury and Duffy drew the band to a shuddering halt, cutting their poodle locks and declaring that 'rock is dead'.

The band had perhaps suffered from the very thing that made them so interesting. Their eclecticism and willingness for self-reinvention alienated a procession of different groups of fans. They retained an impressively staunch and sizeable support, but it was never quite enough to conquer the mainstream convincingly. They seemed to be a 'band out of time', being too late for Punk, too eager for success to limit themselves to Goth, too early for Grunge, and at least ten years out of place with regards to their hard blues-inspired rock.

Revolution

It appears (at the time of writing) that the 'wilderness years' are just drawing to a close for The Cult, with the opening number on the Gone in 60 Seconds soundtrack and a new studio album in the works. Only time will tell how this coming chapter will fit in with the rest of the rollercoaster utterly fresh yet utterly familiar ride that was and is The Cult.

UK Discography as The Cult

• Dreamtime - 1984
• Love - 1985
• Electric - 1987
• Sonic Temple - 1989
• Ceremony - 1992
• Pure Cult (Singles Compilation) - 1993
• The Cult - 1994

The Cult released a boxed set called Rare Cult and an accompanying Best of Rare Cult CD in 2000.

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¹ Tap, the spoof rock band, had a string of drummers who expired in the most hilarious manner imaginable; one died in 'a bizarre gardening accident', another choked on someone else's vomit, and no fewer than two spontaneously combusted on stage!
² Astbury's album, Spirit Light Speed, and Duffy's collaborative effort Coloursound.