By: Rinjo Njori

The Cult's "Return to the Wild" tour staggered into it's final stop at the Nokia Theater in New York City's Times Square this past Sunday. Compared to what you might have seen eighteen years ago at a Cult concert, they attracted quite a mix of people. Young and old congregated for a night of fist pumping late 80s alternative rock. Based on their performance, the crowd may have caught a glimpse of a band that seems to be on their last legs. Looking every bit there forty- plus years (by rock star standards), it was clear that getting warmed up for this performance was going to require a little something extra. Ian Astbury, looking more like Che Guevara than the Lizard King, and Billy Duffy, sporting the rock star hairdo and leather pants, rattled through roughly twenty Cult classics with varying degrees of success, and only fully lived up to their legacy in the last twenty minutes of the show.

As the show moved along, Astbury and Duffy were playful and self deprecating: informing the crowd that the tambourines they tossed to the crowd cost $2.99, finding the humor in being compared to Poison or their admission that "She Sells Sanctuary" launched the trend of a million black tights and pointy boots. The band tried to keep the momentum flowing but Astbury and Duffy seemed rather bored. At times Astbury chose to play his tambourine over singing coherently and Duffy clearly played one song on the guitar while grooving to another inside his head. Astbury even appeared to purposely ruin a few songs, or maybe he just forgot the words. Instead of crooning "Sweet Soul Sister" he decided to shout the chorus, "Sweet!!!! Soul!!! Sister!!!!." The band didn't even bother to give the requisite "NAnaNA-naNAna" and the two thousand plus crowd seemed to forget this little nuance as well. Instead of pushing the crowd to flex their best devil horns during "Peace Dog," Astbury decided to play up the song's noble intentions. This is The Cult, not Rage Against the Machine.

When they decided to treat the crowd to a rarity they chose "Libertine" from the Australian/Japanese import Beyond Good And Evil over a more relevant song like "Horse Nation" from Dreamtime or "Love" from Love. They did manage to play at least one song from each of their albums, even the dreadful Ceremony, with the majority of the material coming from Love and Electric. Unfortunately, the band stripped "Edie (Ciao Baby)" down to it's bones. Typically, this song is the equivalent of Guns N' Roses "November Rain," but Duffy and Astbury reduced it to Astbury's domineering voice and Duffy's best coffee-house guitar, diminishing the whole effect of the song as a power ballad and turning it into something you might find on a rarities or outtake album. Astbury and Duffy did manage a few moments of youthful vigor during "Rise," "Rain" and "Electric Ocean." Ultimately, the real payoff for new and old fans came during the last twenty minutes of the show. In short order, The Cult gave the audience what they came for with "Love Removal Machine," "Fire Woman," "Brother Wolf, Sister Moon" and "She Sells Sanctuary." During that time, Astbury and Duffy seemed twenty years younger. Astbury was able to beat his cymbals and maracas and sing at the same time while Duffy gave his best Captain Morgan pose while he belted out riff after riff.

Joining The Cult for what should be their last tour were John Tempesta (drums), Chris Wyse (bass) and the frequently missing (from the stage that is) Mike Dimkich (rhythm guitar). Dimkich only seemed to saunter onstage when Duffy needed a little muscle behind his straight-from-the-album solos. Tempesta (White Zombie) received a round of applause when it was announced he was from the Bronx but Chris Wyse was greeted with perplexing silence when it was announced that he was from upstate New York. This might have had more to do with the stand up bass and bow (faux cello) that he broke out for effect during "Brother Wolf, Sister Moon" and "Revolution."

The ninety minute show provided more than enough satisfaction for the casual Cult fan as they played their hits and really stepped up when the crowd demanded it. Still, there was something missing from the overall performance for the diehard fan. Repeated cries from the crowd for "New York City" fell on a deaf ears. Astbury must have remembered this was a "New" New York and not the one he sang about never coming back to in the Sonic Temple days.