I’m sitting here going through my .mp3s one at a time, in an attempt to weed out bad or truncated files and to come up with a couple of good playlists (one more evocative and “emo,” and one of high energy/good driving music) for my friend Mel for Christmas. I believe I mentioned this plan in a previous post. I’m at the C’s now, and it reminded me that I wanted to tell you all about the Cult concert. It’s taken until now (from a September 6 show) because I knew I needed time to digest it properly… you’ll understand what I mean in a minute.
Ian Astbury, the frontman for the Cult, has an enormous voice. It’s just huge — strong, powerful, and fabulous. In photos and videos I remember from MTV’s heyday, he looks/looked tall with long black hair and penetrating eyes. In person, he’s nothing like that, at least not anymore.
The band came on without making anyone wait a noticeable period. It seemed like they came on almost right after we arrived, which was probably around 8:30. The House of Blues is not a large venue; I think they seat 1100. There are two levels, and each has stadium seating for part of the area with a mill-around-by-the-bar area to walk around in. The place was predictably packed, but due to its size, it feels very intimate. We found a place to stand and after a while had to move because Kara and I are short and we can’t see over tall people. We have to move three or four times. Eventually, Tina and I found a decent spot to one side and Kara spent some time with some very nice band member’s wife who carved her out a spot in the lower prom before she took off and re-found us, figuring we’d be worried about her.
Ian Astbury is obviously older than he was in the 1980s, as we all are (except you people who were still aether-bound at the time). His hair is long and basic brown, layered a bit. His stage energy is that of someone shy — he is always lit in muted shades, never a white spotlight or anything that really shows him well. He tends to look down, probably toward the front rows but it often seemed he was staring at the floor or his feet. He didn’t talk to the crowd a whole lot. Similarly, his vocal was mixed too far into the music, whereas I really would’ve enjoyed hearing his strong voice blasting out my eardrums. The volume in general was lower than I expected. We’d brought earplugs for Kara but she didn’t need them once the music started.
I was disappointed at the mix and at my inability to see Astbury well. On the other hand, during times when I couldn’t see at all and wasn’t struggling to fight my way to a better spot, I could hear him well enough to get the much beloved sound of his voice. I missed most of “Revolution” because I went to the restroom. I haven’t had the Love album since the 80s when I had it on cassette (it might be here somewhere); “Revolution” had been my favorite song but I’d forgotten all about it.
Toward the end of the show, Ian announced to the crowd that the band would be available in some named room, but I didn’t catch the name. When the show was over, we started making our way to the door to beat the crowd. It’s a confusing place with stairs inside and out, and an elevator that seems to only be available under certain conditions. We didn’t get to use the elevator to come in, but we used it to leave, and it stopped at what we thought was the “lobby” floor, and we got out. We found ourselves in what had to be the named room, very decked out with a much higher class of crowd that I am accustomed to mingling with. I knew the band would be along in a bit. There was incense burning all over the place and a bunch of Hindu decor; I passed a large picture of Kali, my patron goddess, at one point and wondered if it was a sign. Normally, I’d take it as such — who expects to run into such a thing at a club? — but for some reason, I was just too easy going to care right then. And for only the second time in memory, I deliberately walked out of an opportunity to meet my favorite band. (The other band was Queensryche.) I marveled aloud at this as we walked to the car.
I still don’t know why I left, and I regret it a little bit (just like with Queensryche), but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Perhaps Kali was there to encourage me to follow my intuition. The affluent crowd in attendance would have most likely fawned on the band in a way I never do, and I probably wouldn’t have been able to get near them without participating in all that.
All in all, the show was disappointing in some key ways without being at all bad. I’m not sure how much was due to the venue and how much was due to the band’s preferences. I’d see them again, if I could. And I could swear I’ve already written this review — every bit of it feels familiar. *shrug*
Download: Revolution
About Sheta Kaey
