The hard-rocking Cult have come along way from the early Native American stylings ofDreamtimeand the dodgy goth tendencies evident on their classic album,Love. Blame Rick Rubin, who helmedElectricand steered them down the rocky road to metal heaven. … see full wiki
As we frequently rehearse, the 80s were a pretty lousy time for rock 'n' roll. But if rock was on the ropes, then no-one told the natives of Leeds in northern England. Enter Billy Duffy, of the guitar, and Ian Astbury of the voice.
What these two astutely recognised is that if you throw together histrionic singing, thundering guitars, thumping basslines and just a dash of native american/wild west imagery, you have a guaranteed formula for classic rock 'n' roll. In working class Leeds, this was probably also a sure fire formula for getting a good thumping of a Saturday night but, if so, it doesn't show up in the liner notes.
So, She Sells Sanctuary commences gingerly, wavering, tumble-weed guitars chiming idly in the wind (a lot of Cult songs start a bit like this) until drummer of the week (they went through more than Spinal Tap) gives the signal, being the least subtle assault of the drums imaginable, for Billy Duffy to unleash all twenty of his marshall amplifiers, each cranked to eleven and festooned with riffery of the sort which ought to be bottled up and sold as paint stripper.
Exhilarating doesn't begin to describe it. AC/DC's Angus Young, who undoubtedly figured large in Billy Duffy's formative stages, would be proud.
Sadly it did all rather go down hill as the 80s drew on, and maybe their spurs should have been put in the cupboard under the stairs a little before they finally were - witness the longish second half of this disc. But for non-nonsense rock 'n' roll attitude, the Cult was about all there was.