Discovery at the Pump
The first time I heard about The Cult was in 1986. I was working at a gas station when our local rock radio station played, She Sells Sanctuary. I immediately loved it, it was fresh, had the rock sound I craved, and didn’t reek of the hairspray candy-rock that dominated the new rock scene at the time. I started digging into the band and found out they were based in Britain, had a couple of indie releases, and were building a solid following in Europe. I hit the record store, ordered what I could, and devoured it.
First Show: Supporting Billy Idol
That spring, The Cult came through Toronto on their Love Removal Machine tour. It was a Canadian National Exhibition (CNE) Grandstand show, but they weren’t headlining, they were opening for Billy Idol, who was more popular at the time but had a different sound and following. It was a Thursday night, and I couldn’t find anyone to go with me, so I went solo.
What I saw blew me away. Finally, a no-nonsense rock band that didn’t wear spandex pants or ripped up shirts. They put on a killer show. The whole audience was into it, and like me, many were there just for The Cult. When their set ended, people left the venue, and streamed out into the night. I’ve never seen so many people leave after the first act, probably 40% of the crowd. I stayed for Billy Idol mostly because I’d paid for the ticket and had nothing better to do.
Billy was lively, bouncing around the stage like he was doing cardio. His guitarist, Steve Stevens, was phenomenal. Fun fact: during Rebel Yell, that weird-sounding solo is played using a toy phaser gun with red, green, and blue lights. He rubs it against the strings to get that sound.
Headlining with Guns N’ Roses
A few months later, The Cult returned to headline another CNE Grandstand show. This time, I rounded up a crew to join me. We got there early enough to catch the opening act, an unknown band from Los Angeles called Guns N’ Roses. Local rock stations had just started playing Sweet Child O’ Mine. They were high energy, with that over-the-top glam look typical of the era. I remember my buddy asking, “What’s that guy with the big purple bandana doing? Is he sweeping across the stage?”
Fun twist: Matt Sorum was drumming for The Cult at the time, but just days after the show, he joined Guns N’ Roses. Talk about an awesome career move, great instincts.
Once again, The Cult delivered. Ian Astbury channeled a bit of Jim Morrison with his dress and charisma. Billy Duffy shredded flawless solos, backed by Jamie Stewart on rhythm guitar (usually their bassist), and Haggis on bass, who would later form The Four Horsemen.
Skydome Madness: December 1989
The next time I saw The Cult was in December 1989 at the Skydome in Toronto (now Rogers Centre). By then, they had several albums out and were getting regular airplay. I went with a buddy we called “The Grinch” because of his drinking demeanor. As usual, things got wild.
We bought floor tickets at the record store near our school, in the floor section, but way in the back. We started drinking Captain Morgan & Coke around 6 that evening at his apartment in Mississauga, then kept it going on the bus and subway. As the night wore on, The Grinch got more belligerent, bumping into people on the subway to provoke them.
“Aye, fuck you,” he’d say if anyone reacted. “You wanna go? Right here? Hey?” He was tough as nails but had a bit of a Napoleon complex. Eventually, he got a rise out of a guy in a group of three, also headed to the show. “Let’s get off here and do it,” the guy said.
We all got off the train. It was me and The Grinch, and the three of them. I wasn’t too worried though, we were all about the same size and I had no intention of fighting. I needed to keep things under control so I set the ground rules.
“Okay, guys,” I said to the two friends. “These two want to scrap. That’s fine. But I’ve got no beef with you. Let’s stay here, and they’ll go around the corner and punch it out. Whatever happens, happens.” Everyone agreed. I figured The Grinch, juiced as he was, would lay a beatdown in five minutes and we’d be on our way. But a couple minutes later, the other guy came back alone and said, “Alright, guys, let’s get to that show.”
I found The Grinch around the corner, buckled over and spitting blood. His lip was mangled. Clearly, he didn’t get the first shot in, or any shot at all. He calmed down after that, and we continued to the show.
Sneaking Into Skydome
The Skydome was still new, and being a modern facility, it had glass doors all around the outside.
“Let’s sneak in,” The Grinch said.
“But we have tickets. Why bother?”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
He ran up to the glass doors between gates, waving to people inside. After a dozen tries, a girl darted forward to see what he wanted. The Grinch signaled for her to hit the bar to open the door, she did, and amazingly, it opened. We ducked under the queue barriers that direct people away from the glass doors and ran inside joining the crowd. Apparently, you didn’t need tickets to get into Skydome. Good tip for future reference.
“Alright, Grinch, we’re in. Let’s get to our seats and figure out how to get a better view.”
“I got a better idea,” he said. “I see some guys I know from school, they’ve got front section floor tickets. Follow me.”
He asked them to help us sneak in. The plan: they’d go to their seats, then two of them would give their tickets to Ricky, who’d bring them back to us in the corridor. We’d use them to get through security, then pass them back to Ricky once inside. Ten minutes later, Ricky handed us the tickets. We got through security, gave him back the tickets, and when the lights went out, we bolted toward the front rows. I didn’t see The Grinch or his friends again that night.
Mic Grab Mayhem
I watched the whole show from the front row, center. It was incredible. But the chaos wasn’t over. During the encore, Born to Be Wild, Ian Astbury kept pushing the mic stand out over the crowd while Duffy was laying down the guitar solo that is three quarters of the way into the song. The mic was just a couple feet from me. Then the girl that I was pressed up against jumped up and grabbed it, screaming into it. Then I grabbed it from her and screamed too. Security swarmed and a tug-of-war broke out between the crowd and staff. The mic, attached to a cord, flew into the air and landed mid-stage. Ian scrambled to grab it just in time to finish the song.
Aftermath
The next day, I asked The Grinch what happened. He said security tackled him from behind when we ran toward the stage and kicked him out. Outside, he got into it with some people and ended up in the drunk tank. He was released at 6 in the morning in downtown Toronto.
Oh, man, what a night. Here is my ticket, un-ripped. I told the story to a few new friends I met later, and I got the sense that they thought it was too unbelievable, and maybe I was making it up. I even started to wonder if maybe I had a wild dream that seeped into my memory as reality. A few years later, however, I was walking up Yonge Street in Toronto and I saw a guy with a pop-up table selling live video recordings from Toronto venues. I saw he had the Cult from 1989 at the Skydome, and I bought the video cassette for $20. I had to see if what I though happened actually did. Visually, the video was distant and grainy. It sounded like shit too, muffled with a lot of echo. I realized the guy had access to box seats and set up a shitty video camera focused on the stage from the other end of the arena. It was what it was, and near the end of the show, after panning from Duffy’s guitar solo, Ian Ashbury can be seen scrambling for the mic mid-stage.
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