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After last week’s joyous rebound for Jon and me digging it, Eugene threw a turd in the water. Let’s do it.

#9 – Electric by The Cult.


©Beggars Banquet/Sire

Let me preface this by saying that I’ve never cared one way or another about The Cult. Never liked them, never disliked them. What I knew of them was an odd genre confusion. I had grown up and knew them on Headbangers’ Ball on MTV. So, I thought it was hard rock. I get Sirius (before the XM) and listen to Hair Nation and they’re on there. But, I also listen to 1st Wave (the earliest of new wave and classic alternative) and they’re on there. I don’t think of them, at all, as new wave or classic alternative, but The BCPF disagrees. That’s a lot of her music. A lot. So, confusion and the fact that I couldn’t care less, or even more, doesn’t help this album very much.

I have always thought that Ian Astbury had a very Jim Morrison-like voice. That’s even before he was in The Doors of the 21st Century. He and Glenn Danzig, both, sounded like Morrison. I always thought Astbury could sing, too. On this album, he both proves me right and he proves me wrong; a little right, a lot wrong. Astbury is a power voice one minute and a wailing wraith the next. I have listened to this album three and a half times already and every time the bad parts get worse and my skin crawls. It makes it hard to enjoy the decent parts.

For S’s & G’s I went and listened to Sonic Temple, the album after this and I was right, he could sing. On this album, though, it’s a miserable experience to listen to. There are parts that I like, to be sure. I like “Lil’ Devil,” “Peace Dog,” “Bad Fun,” “Aphrodisiac Jacket” and the hit single, “Love Removal Machine.” But, as the album goes on it gets really annoying to listen. Don’t get me wrong, Billy Duffy (who I always wanted to call Patrick – and I never really watched Dallas), Les Warner and Jamie Stewart are on point the whole time. Well, with the exception of one song, which I’ll get to in a bit. It’s just Astbury that wrecks the album for me. Even Rick Rubin’s production couldn’t fix that. He sounds off key, warbly and, mostly, tired throughout the album. I know I’m letting Eugene down right now, but it really isn’t something I enjoyed.

Clearly, the absolute low point of the whole album, for me, was what has to be the absolute worst cover of “Born to be Wild” that I have ever heard. The band sounds like they’re just going through the motions and there’s not a lot of excitement. That and Ian Astbury is belching off-key crap the whole, entire song. I was excited when it came from Eug, but the more I listen the less I can stomach it. No offense intended on that, I just can’t. I. Just. Can’t.

I figure Jon’s review will be late because he’s enjoying the sun in the Bahamas right now celebrating his 25th anniversary with his lovely bride. Happy anniversary to you both. But, I look forward to his review and I want to read how Eug feels about it. Most of his reviews are a personal memory and I dig that. Whether I dig the album or not.

Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
Scorp out!

“She said do all those things that you do to me. You know what I mean, boy. 
Do all those things that you do to me yeah. Love remover love remover machine.
You little soul shaker love remover machine.” – “Love Removal Machine” (Astbury/Duffy)