(Roadrunner/Warner Music)

When some doors close, why not re-open an older one?

Finished with filling in for the dead Jim Morrison in the revived Doors, Ian Astbury rejoined guitarist Billy Duffy for The Cult’s first album in six years, and only their second in 13 years. Enlisting a new rhythm section (guys who’ve played with White Zombie and Ozzy Osbourne) and Killing Joke bassist Youth to produce, they stride confidently back into the limelight ready for action and let fly with plenty of fire and drama and their patented pouty, pomped-up attitude. The problem, though, is that they don’t seem to have too much new to say, borrowing moves from their own back catalogue and others. So the set’s best cut here, Dirty Little Rockstar, owes a debt to The Stones but comes with solid riffing and a digital sheen, while the muscular chug of Citizens revisits the band’s goth heyday quite well. But tracks like Diamonds and Tiger In The Sun burn energy without shedding much light, and Astbury’s bombastic bellow can’t hide how weak the lyrics are here, cliché after well-worn cliché (check out Holy Mountain). Okay, it’s not the embarrassment it could have been, but this doesn’t add much to Cult’s status. 

**½

BILL HOLDSWORTH

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