The Cult have come a long way from white spandex and pirate shirts. A long long way. It's astounding how seeing a show like this can somehow restore your faith in the campy, outrageous world of rock, even though you know other bands just simply aren't like this and probably never will be. You know, these days when a rock star is flaunty rather than humble, they come off sounding sleazy or mean. The Cult comes off as just all-out cocky and loving it. The audience, surprisingly not absolutely enormous, was shuffling about singing to the Pink Floyd and whatnot that was playing during the set changeover. Luckily I didn't have to endure openers controller.controller.







When the Cult finally emerged on stage after a big intro, they did so unassumingly. I thought that odd - justa couple waves, and singer Ian Astbury plopped a large binder I guess filled with ... set lists? lyrics? who knows... at the foot of his mic stand. They performed the hell out of the first few songs, which included "Sweet Soul Sister'' (fist-pumping abounds) and "The Witch." It might seem cliche now but since The Cult was one of the bands that engineered such moves through the 80's, the foot-on-monitor-play-guitar-in-the-air thing was thrilling. Astbury, photos of whom I haven't seen or paid attention to in years (since the Doors fill-in gigs), was surprisingly hairy. It looks like he's taken a cue from the young be-bearded rockers kicking around these days. Well-worn jeans, simple shirt, and still a bandana, only this one was just black and worn with no showiness whatsoever. He also had a Cult kercheif tucked in his back pocket. Recalling old footage and videos from the bands heyday though, I still anticipated a lot more running about and twirling and whatnot. This just didn't happen. I thought, well, I guess theyr'e just getting too old for such shenanigans.







Amongst the crowd that was moshing and squirming up front (in a relatively tame fashion, mind you), a clear beach ball suddenly appeared and bounced about on top of the audience. Someone directed it stageward, and guitarist Mike Dimkich, in a calm manner, stepped forth to meet it and kicked it back into the crowd. Astbury's classic voice rang throughout the cavernous and crappy-sounding Plaza of Nations (a glass-covered, semi-outdoor auditorium. Anyone seen the second Final Destination movie? You know that part where the kid freaks out a flock of pigeons, which startles some crane worker guy and he drops a sheet of glass onto one of the movie's stars? That's the Plaza of Nations. Luckily, no one was flattened by falling glass, but I sure wouldn't want to be in there during an earthquake. No matter how many people are in there though, it always sounds like yelling into an empty gymnasium. The acoustics sure work to amplify the sound, but they also bounce it around all over the place into a zillion tiny echoes. Between songs, Astbury oddly began to read things off of the vendor carts around the perimeter of the venue. At first, when he started saying that he smells something, I thought he was referencing the abundant burning marijuana that was floating around by that time. Instead, he starts to read "Fresh mini-donuts. That's what it is..." What? Later on he also read off a string of available menu items, including lemonade, hot dogs and poutine.







Between a couple tunes, original guitarist Billy Duffy spoke up in his what's-the-first-thing-you-think-of-when-I-say-British-rock-star accent. He'd been the one making most of the weird snarly faces and cocky guitar-playing tricks. True seasoned veteran. Anyhow, the audience had just finished clapping politely, prompting Duffy to yell at the nice Canadians, "Why the hell are you so fucking quiet? This is a rock show, come on, it's been 12 fucking years. This is your night, you all spent forty-two dollars and fifty Canadian cents to be here. Get your fucking money's worth!" The crowd complied. "That's fucking better!" He went on to explain he was about to play an angry song so he was getting himself riled up. Other rile-up occurences transpired, when Astbury did his best to describe the band, rattling off a string of musical genres - goth, metal, punk etc. "Whatever the fuck we're supposed to be. We're rock n roll, man!" And yes, 12 years since the Cult played in Vancouver. Astbury described "Peace Dog" as a "male punk rock adolescent fantasy."







While the moshers continued up front, i noticed in the empty spaces at the back of the floor, half a dozen women or so had staked territories of about 10-foot diameters in which to dance in their 80's high heels and tight dresses. I'm surprised they didn't topple over on the plank floor of the Plaza of Nations. I also spied an empty wheelchair near the front (I soon learned its occupant was standing just in front of the chair, leaning heavily on a companion) with a sticker plastered across the back that said "heavy metal changed my life." And as Astbury explained whistfully how Americans (and everyone else) wants to move to Canada, including himself, a roar went up from the audience, proud of its super-cool country. He also dispelled the mystery of why there was a seeming lack of energy. "I usually would be jumping around mroe but I just had leg surgery three weeks ago..." Ah.







The first encore included the massive hits "Edie" (just Astbury and Duffy on stools, acoustic) and "She Sells Sanctuary." Being used to one encore and already there much later than I'd originally intended, AND having heard "Sanctuary," I headed for the doors to beat the crowd out. As I walked up the stairs towards BC Place (the adjacent football stadium) though, the band came back! A second encore, for "Love Removal Machine!" Of course! How coudl I have forgotten about that one? Luckily, those insane glass-roof acoustics project the sound out of the venue clear as a bell, and in fact, the sound was monumentally better standing at that distance. You can even sort of see the stage if you're in just the right spot. Heck, why bother ever paying for one of these shows when you can just stand up at BC Place and watch? Anyhow, that song was great. The show was great! Consummate performers who know how to still be rock stars. They didn't seem washed up or lame, just modernized. I fucking love it!





Did I mention I almost dressed up as Ian Astbury for Halloween once? I would have so worn the outfit to the show...

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By Andy Scheffler
Photos : Andy Scheffler
Published : May, 2006.