The Cult's Latest Shows A Band In Eclipse

----------------------------------------------------------------- Concert preview

The Cult, Big Chief and Mother Tongue, 7:30 p.m. Wednesday, Moore Theatre; $20, 628-0888. -----------------------------------------------------------------

When the Cult started out in the mid-1980s, it was a promising band inspired by the rough-edged artistry and dramatic flair of the Doors.

Darkly handsome lead singer Ian Astbury, with his black-leather pants and sneering, edgy personality, was hailed as a new Jim Morrison. With gifted guitarist Billy Duffy at his side, they made a formidable team. At a time when alternative rock was beginning to dominate, the more mainstream Cult managed to thrive on the strength of such gritty, hard-rock gems as "Love Removal Machine," "Edie (Ciao Baby)" and "She Sells Sanctuary."

The large swath of black humor that cut through many of the band's songs, and the group's healthy respect for punk and alternative music, lent credibility to it when other hard-rock and metal acts were being dismissed as dinosaurs. The Cult seemed to be a new kind of hard rock/metal: inspired by the past but receptive to the new, especially the grunge movement.

Astbury has always acknowledged that influence, citing Seattle grunge bands by name on the concert stage and in interviews.

On the Cult's latest album, called simply "The Cult," released last October, there's a reference to seminal Seattle grunge figure Andrew Wood, the late lead singer of Mother Love Bone, the precursor of Pearl Jam. In the song "Sacred Life," Wood is named, along with Abbie Hoffman and River Phoenix, as tragic victims of early deaths.

A precautionary tone about drugs and alcohol permeates the song, and is a recurring theme throughout the album. The references are informed by the band's own troubles. The Cult is yet another rock band now waving the clean-and-sober banner.

Astbury has blamed his alcohol dependency for some of the destructive acts he has done in the past, including one of the most offensive, the wearing of a Nazi armband at a concert here at the Paramount some eight years ago. He also used to make a practice of insulting audiences, which he said was meant to wake them up but mostly just angered and agitated them.

Such excesses could be partly excused when the Cult was making vital music, but that hasn't happened in a long time. "The Cult," like the "Ceremony" album before it, is superficial and forced. Its attempts at fusing alternative music to hard rock are unsuccessful.

Duffy's work used to shine through even the most mundane Cult songs, but on the new album he sounds dispirited. Even he can't save Astbury's desperate attempts at sounding powerful and contemporary. "The Cult" is the sound of a band fading away.

Big Chief is a Detroit group whose debut album, on Capitol Records, is "Platinum Jive," an intentionally ragged, grunge-tinged but ultimately uninspired, routine hard-rock disc. However, I feel duty bound to report that rock legend Iggy Pop has remarked, "They're the most interesting band in America right now."