Fucking excellent: (SOUTHERN) DEATH CULT

One of the most memorable birthday presents I've ever been given was a cassette copy of "LOVE," by a British band called THE CULT. It was given to me by my older brother Ryan, a few days after my birthday. It had already been opened, and instead of being rewound to start on side A, it was cued up to B. Normally, I would have been offended by such gift-giving transgressions. My brother's obvious love for the gift he was giving me, however, made me appreciate it all that much more.

Little did he realize that bridging that gap for me between the sappy pop music I was listening to at the time and the "alternative" music (which wouldn't be defined by that term until years later) would create a monster. Soon, I would be spending all my lunch money on bus fare downtown, where I could seek out other records I wasn't hearing on the radio in Omaha. ("LOVE" also became the first CD I would ever purchase, two years before I had my own stereo.)

I also began to seek out anything else this band might have done, which lead to my discovery of both SOUTHERN DEATH CULT and DEATH CULT. The former was the first band lead by singer Ian Astbury (then named Ian Lindsay), an angry Brit with a hardcore crush on Native American culture. The band's posthumous CD, a collection of singles and live recordings, was probably my first induction into the world of postpunk/goth music. Full of songs about war, death and decay, it was a hard listen that contained two classic songs in "Moya" and "Fatman" (available here in .m4a format).

After touring with Bauhaus on what would become their farewell tour, Southern Death Cult disbanded. Lindsay began collaborating with a guitarist named Billy Duffy, who had just finished duties in THEATRE OF HATE. Legend has it that Billy Duffy taught Johnny Marr how to play guitar. It's not inconceivable, since Duffy was in a group called The Nosebleeds with a young Stephen Morrissey, well before old Steve-o would drop his first name and become the King of Mope as the singer for THE SMITHS (Marr was the band's innovative guitarist).

DEATH CULT was born. On the two EPs the band released in 1983/84 before changing its name, the music is full of piss and vinegar, lashing out at imperialism, religion and most importantly, America. The music and vocals echoed groups like Bauhaus, Killing Joke and Sisters of Mercy, with tribal beats and almost disco-esque basslines. Their first single, "God's Zoo" pointed an accusing finger at the dark side of humanity and Christianity. "Hands in others' pockets to fill their own / You know, I'm pretty confused watching you." "I can't wait to see you burning."

It doesn't take a genius to figure out the subject matter behind the lead single on their second release, "Christians". Here, Astbury's vocals drip with hatred, creaking and soaring like Peter Murphy's on Bauhaus tracks like "Bela Lugosi's Dead." How did the guy who screamed brilliance like "Home, where the green grass grows / Shit on, from up high / This parody pisses off the world!" go on to write cock rock like "Fire Woman"?

Astbury's fascination with Native American culture, which he wears proudly on his sleeve on songs like "Ghost Dance" and "Horse Nation" was born when he lived in Canada after a brief stint in the military. He would continue to write about it throughout his career, but never as potently on the aforementioned tracks. Part of me wonders if it's because he never had a drummer behind him like Ray Mondo or Nigel Preston ever again (Mondo was replaced by Preston, who found his way onto "DREAMTIME" before becoming one of over a dozen drummers for the band).

In January of 1984 -- on Friday the 13th no less -- the Death Cult announced its new name: THE CULT. While they began a more "positive", less gothic path with the name change, they still performed some of that early material live. If you can find it, there's a great performance captured on the "DREAMTIME - LIVE AT THE LYCEUM" video, which includes this hot-as-shit live performance of "Brothers Grimm". I love the cocky way Astbury ends the performance by screaming "Fucking excellent!"

While "DREAMTIME" and, to some extent, "LOVE" would pursue a similar gothic mysticism, the band gradually became a sort of classic rock/heavy metal revival act, and quickly lost its punk edge. I really wish a band today would take the sound of Death Cult and run with it for a few more albums. This EP just isn't enough.


FOR MORE ON TONIGHT'S ARTIST(s):

- A bio of Wovoka, a Native American mystic referenced in "Ghost Dance"
- A 1982 interview with Southern Death Cult in the NME, featuring photos by Anton Corbijn
- Read more at Deathrock.com
- Buy the Ghost Dance collection now
- For rockers, ravers, lovers and sinners, a Cult fan page. Or, check out Cult Central