IT’S NEW! IT’S DIFFERENT! IT’S PSYCHEDELIC METAL: The Cult, Live at the Ritz, NYC. June 2, 1987

The night the Cult played the Ritz on a few hours notice was such a perfect media event, a seasoned rock publicist couldn’t have schemed up a better one. The big star cancels out, and the understudy goes on to steal the show – kinda like a group d’etat. Definitely a triumph for the band, a soon-to-be-legendary concert for some – but for others, more proof that what makes it for one person might not quite do it for another.

At times, this surprise Ritz gig (after the abrupt cancellation of the Billy Idol/Cult show at Madison Square Garden) seemed like a private party in celebration of the Cult’s recent success. But, as usually occurs when an underground band emerges from the intimacy of night-time clubland into the arena spotlight of mainstream adulation, many fans who happily jumped on the Cult’s neo-psychedelic bandwagon a few years back are unwilling to ride on to their next apparent destination: the great American Heavy Metal Market. But despite the obvious dismay and cries of sellout from some at Tuesday’s SRO show, today’s Cult is a seemingly unstoppable rock and roll locomotive. And hard rockers across the U.S. now seem ready for their eclectic-but-kickass brand of music.

As “Love Removal Machine” blasts from high school parking lots around the country, the Cult stand poised to capitalize on the current resurgence of heavy metal–a genre started almost 20 years ago by their big influence, Led Zeppelin. 

Since copping the supporting act spot on Billy Idol’s Whiplash Smile tour, and making the Top 40 with their Rick Rubin-produced Electric album, the Cult have been getting more attention than is usual for an opening band, from media and rockers alike.

Then, on June 2, in a strange turn of events hurriedly following the last-minute cancellation of the sold-out Billy Idol MSG show (a union problem with asbestos removal was blamed), the Cult displayed a knack for grabbing the spotlight. They arranged their own solo gig at downtown’s Ritz, selling out in a few hours to rock fans also lucky enough to have been in the right place at the right time.

As the fog machine smoked, and blasting classical music signaled the start of the show, the Cult launched into “Nirvana” (the hard-rocking cut off their first U.S. album, 1985’s Love), going form 0 to 60 in three seconds flat. In front of their black light Electric banner/logo, the walls of Marshall’s were cranked up, fueled by the band’s new stripped-down metallic wall-of-sound (augmented with a second guitarist for the tour). Immediately following with “Big Neon Glitter” and “Wild Flower,” the revitalized five-piece group were on full throttle, recreating the dual guitar blitzkrieg from their records with driven, heavy metal-like intensity,

The band has obviously been cramming hard on a crash course in Arena Opening Acts 101, and worked the already enthused audience like the best of them. Lead singer Ian Astbury shouted “Are you hear to see a rock ‘n roll concert?"–and the crowd screamed out a resounding “YES!" as the band launched into their new anti-war rocker, "Peace Dog” with the fans shouting the chorus. The packed Ritz floor of psyched-up devotees bounced in unison to the driving beat, in perfect sync with the gloriously blasting sound, raising their fists metal-style.

But not everyone in attendance was as ecstatic. In response to a front rower’s complaint of “What happened to this fucking band?” Astbury shot back “We got good, that’s what!” And the Cult are still very, very good but they’ve definitely changed their ways – leaving their old neo-psychedelic goth sound and look for a more mainstream heavy metal image.

As flowers and paisley give way to leather and tattoos, the Cult have made a conscious move to metal-ize themselves, adopting hard rock’s blues-based guitar riffs and imagery, and AC/DC’s thundering beat. And as metal itself gets more into late 60s blues rock (like Motley Crue’s new Girls, Girls, Girls sound), a new hybrid label like psychedelic metal seems to cover bands from both sides of the fence who now seem to have just discovered the Yardbirds and Hendrix.

So, previously androgynous hippie frontman, Ian Astbury loses his scarves and adopts a more macho, Morrison-like outlaw pose in skin tight black leathers, sleeveless black t-shirts and tattoos; his partner-in-crime guitarist Billy Duffy is growing out his hair into a metal shag and shakes it in sync with the other guitarist, a la Judas Priest. And now Duffy specializes in a more straightforward and thicker traditional guitar sound than his old effects-laden style.

But their performance was undeniably powerful. As the two hour set took off, Astbury set the pace. “Are we here to celebrate? then LET’S DO IT!” he shouted, ripping into their FM radio hit, “Love Removal Machine,” The audience happily obeyed. Love’s “Rain” caused the whole place to go wild, as did their other picks off Electric, like “Lil Devil,” with its Stones-ish riff nicely accompanied by red stage lights and smoke. “Outlaw” was a tight, driving blast of Aerosmith-like blues rock in classic form, The sonic barrage continued with their Cream-meets-Iggy wah wah rocker “The Phoenix.” sounding even better than on the record.

By the time they got to the encore and best known song,”She Sells Sanctuary” (off Love) the crowd seemed on the exact same wavelength, rocking so hard the entire Ritz building shook to the beat. They came back for a second encore too – with Electric’s “King Contrary Man” and their good remake of Steppenwolf’s biker anthem, “Born to be Wild,” – closing with their usual final number, another great 60’s classic, “Wild Thing.”

On the final chords, Astbury ripped into the drums and amps trashing them like a crack crazed Keith Moon. It was an appropriate or indulgent ending, depending on which camp you’re in.

More than 10 years after punk rock’s violent denunciation of the rock dinosaurs – Led Zeppelin, Cream, the Who, Hendrix and the Stones – it’s safe to admit one’s preference for that music today. As emphasized by their nostalgic lyrics and retro style, the Cult appear to be good students of rock history, and are doing interesting things with those influences.

And if, in the process, the Cult are becoming a heavy metal arena band, then at least they’ll be a great one.

LIGHTWEIGHT CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD: The Human League, Live at the Ritz, NYC. February 6, 1987

Those once darlings of the dance club – the Human League – are back. With a new hit single “Human,” and album, Crash, they are currently in the midst of their first U.S. tour in over five years, adding their name to the fast growing list of recent revivals and comebacks in rock n’ roll. 

But whatever happened to the next big things of 1982–who seemed to have the entire pop world in the palms of their well manicured hands–in the first place? And what have they been doing all these years while the musical genre they helped create, Synth Pop, became the standard schtick of every group from Hoboken to Budokon?

In post-punk America, circa 1982, the Human League seemed to have all the answers. They had style. They had class. They had a sound – a sophisticated blend of Kraftwerk’s cold computer world, black American disco, Roxy Music’s glittery kitsch and punk’s pessimism. They had pretty girls and a hot looking Ferry-esque frontman. They even had some good songs like “Mirror Man” and “Things That Dreams are Made Of.”

And their early videos were little cinematic pleasures, evoking the Hollywood dream factory of the 1930's  – slick, professional, representing both high and low fashion, with interesting narrative story lines told in quick cuts, not necessarily connected to the song lyrics. The Human League used video as a promotional vehicle to sell a lifestyle of new wave glamour and glitter, and did it well.

But after their huge initial success (with the U.S. Releases of Dare and Fascination) the band found themselves victims of the media just as much as they used to be masters of it. Due to overexposure on MTV and mediocre releases like Hysteria (1983), they soon floundered, adrift on a synthesizer sea of possibilities, all of them fast becoming cliche. The Human League were ultimately overrun and eclipsed by their predecessors, like OMD, Heaven 17, Depeche Mode, Bronski Beat and ABC. Despite their immense impact on the music, and more importantly, the look of early 1980’s rock, in 1984, they were facing life as major league has-beens with mass media moving faster and more fickle by the minute. The group seemed to have had their 15 minutes of fame – they’d been labeled, dated and filed in the collective data bank of entertainment history.

But the Human League proved to be ingenious creatures with strong survival instincts.

After a brief hiatus and some solo projects (like Oakey’s Georgio Moroder-produced “Electric Dreams”) they are making crossover history again with their new A&M album, Crash. The obvious key to their comeback appears to be their choice of producers – the new dynamic duo of Minneapolis funk, Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, who worked similar wonders with Janet Jackson. The number one single, “Human” single-handedly resurrected the Human League from near dead, complete with good backup video support and great brand name identification – and a thoroughly entertaining live show. At first glance, the arena-type stage set (complete with shimmery curtains, smoke machines, risers, stairs and colored lights) seemed over done. But from the moment the League hit the first few notes of their tongue-and-cheek choice of opener, “Hard Times,” it all made sense.

Appearing one at a time for maximum cheezy theatrical effect (with the best, the girls – singers Joanne Catherall and Susan Sulley – saved for last, of course) it immediately seemed funny and cute, tacky and slick. The Human League Show. The Big Time. Las Vegas. Hollywood, U.S.A.

The past (“Hard Times”) went right into the present, with “Money” (off the new album). The music was great, the singers were fab. Yes, they’re still selling sex and new wave glitz, but their sense of humor has improved. They’ve reclaimed their glitter rock roots, becoming in the process, a great party band. 

Dressed in casually trendy black, accessorized with with mascara and rhinestone earrings, Phillip Oakey still manages to come off as a down-to-earth bloke, a nice guy with two pretty girlfriends (as Catherall is in real life). His cute attempts at between-song performer/audience communication were light-hearted and low-key. “It’s late, what are you all doing here? You’re going to miss Pee Wee tomorrow,” he informed the audience.

Moving along at a sleek, rapid-fire pace, the band (all but one are original members) kept the hits coming – from 1981’s funky anthem “Things That Dreams Are Made Of” (dedicated to the Ramones in attendance), to today’s “The Real Thing” and “I Need Your Loving” (which sounded suspiciously like Janet Jackson’s “Nasty) – showing good examples of the League’s six-year evolution from suave, British synth pop to their new Minneapolis-flavored funk, but still retaining their characteristically dark sound.

But consistently, the best moments of the set were during the older material, which seemed to generate more of an emotional response from the group, especially Oakey. The cool, plastic soul sound of the new material was slick and emotionless in comparison.

The real standout was the chilling and powerful “Seconds,” about the assassination of JFK, in a riveting new version sans girls and guitars. An equally compelling “The Lebanon” kicked in with a bass-driven vigor and intensity, while the funk dance ballad, “Mirror Man” built slowly to a harmony-heavy crescendo. “Love On the Run” was one of the better pieces off Crash, with a Spectoresque disco beat reminiscent of the League’s earlier sound.

They, of course, did the big one, “Don’t You Want Me,” and their current MTV and VH1 smash, “Human.” both complete with schmaltzy soap opera-like monologues played to perfection.

They ended on a high with a flashy synth-powered encore of “(Keep Feeling) Fascination,” closing appropriately with rousing high-tech cover of glam rocker Gary Glitter’s 1972 classic, “Rock and Roll Part II.”

The new Human League show is like a hip, live action Disney movie in flashy technicolor – cute, happy, successful, well-dressed new wave boys and girls together, having fun, and making swell dance music.

The Human League are not a rock group in the usual sense. They only merely hint at the possible power and fury of the music. They sell sanitized sex, glamour and good times in a PG rock format, never getting heavy, never bringing anyone down for more than a few seconds.

In real rock and roll terms,. The Human League are lightweights. But they’re nearly perfect in the its-got-a-good-beat-and-you-can-dance-to-it department. And they know how to put together a snappy outfit.


Originally published February 25, 1987.