Irving Plaza, New York, New York 
So, the idiots finally came home to roost. Word from the people who care is that the
newly sported berets squeal "losers", Duffy looks (admittedly) rather too healthy to
be in a rock band and your Astbury is exactly the dull twerp that some of us had
feared/expected/hoped he'd be. And he finally obliterates any memories of just how
inspiring Southern Death Cult once were.
There's a tremendous TV programme that goes out at 2pm every Tuesday on BBC2 called
"How The West Was Lost". It's all about the way that British yahoos cultivated the
habit of genocide on native American Indians. It's a reasoned, moving series that
kind of makes you ashamed about, well, everything. The Cult know bits about it all,
pretend to empathise, yet ultimately entrench themselves in the blank obscenity of
rawk mediocrity. They suck ostrich eggs.
Ian Astbury says, "We're outcasts, we're the band they don't want," and you're left
rooted to the spot at his casual arrogance, disappointed that he seems to have
reduced his existance to the simplicity of lies. Their Stateside audience thinks
they're a bit better than life itself.
The Cult are a western rock band who know full well how to tap into the vigorously
obvious Wank Rock aesthetic that fuels any concept of American Success. They do
She Sells Sanctuary and it sounds almost as good as if it wasn't advertising
anything. It's the only time in their set that they even hint at thrills. The rest
of the set is gloriously, dementedly, dollar-slurping predictable.
The Cult sketch everything that is wrong with British groups who whore themselves
in America, spread-eagling themselves for the tawdry satisfaction of dull theatrics.
Me and my pal, Mike, stumble to the pool tables in the bar next door genuinely
disappointed that The Cult don't matter any more, that they debase dignity with such
enthusiasm. Worse than Sting.
Paul Mathur - Melody Maker, Dec 10/1994
This was right after the last album came out. Everyone in line had been talking about
it all day and were ready to hear it live. Fans spanned the ages, from late teens to
early 30's. An ecclectic group to be sure. The guy in front of me thought Ceremony
was the cults best and I thought Love was. Most thought Electric was. One thing for
sure, no one wanted to see the band that showed up at The Paramount a few years earlier
too drunk to perform. It was clear from the moment the band took the stage that they
had something to prove. It was more energetic than anyone dared hope and Ian was
happy sober for the whole show. The show blew us all away. On the subway home one guy
from the show ran into a friend of his from work. His friend asked what he was up to,
he said he had just seen the Cult. "How was it", he asked. "Amazing" said the guy. "No
kidding" said the other. No kidding is right, I doubt any show could touch it off the
entire tour, judging from boots I've heard, I'm one lucky son of a bitch to have seen
it!
William Hall - captive@imap4.asu.edu
Blew me away
Paul Fisher
Setlist:
Gone
Star
The Witch
Black Sun