ALBUMS
The Cult have always been defined by the push-pull relationship between singer Ian Astbury and guitarist Billy Duffy. The former is one of rock’s great poet-warriors, a restless shaman impervious to ridicule; the latter is a grafter, someone who relishes what he calls “cheesy popularity” of the kind his bandmate rails against. It’s a combination that shouldn’t work, and frequently hasn’t, but when it does, magic happens.
The magic is definitely happening on Under The Midnight Sun, which is no small feat 40 years and 11 albums into a band’s career. Where their two most recent albums – 2012’s Choice Of Weapon and 2016’s Hidden – made slightly heavy weather of the job of being The Cult, here they sound more reinvigorated than they have in decades.
The album sounds like the work of two men who have hit a period of being completely in sync. The electronic throb of calls back to the Astbury-led dancefloor-grunge experiments of 1994’s self-titled album, but Duffy’s arcing guitar connects it to rock’s heartland. The guitarist is on stellar form throughout here, dialling back the unnecessary heroics in favour of colour and texture. He brings
