Siouxsie and Iggy Pop star in Cruel World interrupted by weather

The day before Saturday’s Cruel World festival, promoters tweeted a weather advisory: “Mostly sunny, high 79, 100% chance for heartbreak and despair. I see you there.”

It turned out that the weather had other ideas. But on Saturday, a horde of moping rockers and goths clad in sun-soaking black descended on Pasadena’s Brookside at the Rose Bowl. Quite possibly this was the densest concentration of fishing nets in human history.

Cruel world, what debuted in 2022, has fun with the idea of ​​misery as a shared alternative rock worldview. The three stages of the festival are called Outsiders, Sad Girls and Lost Boys. There’s also a dance area, played by someone called Club Doom Dave. Then there’s the name itself, derived from the suicidal kiss “goodbye, cruel world.”

Goths turned out for Cruel World.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

In gothic, the world’s cruelty has no political dimension: it’s not a reference to economic inequality or the literally hateful policies being enacted across the country. “Cruel” is a more timeless existentialist indictment of a sadness inherent in life itself. The connection between the bands and their fans was forged during adolescence, that time when sensitive souls begin to have deep thoughts. However, most of this mostly middle-aged crowd must surely now be well-adjusted and comfortable in their skin (not to mention comfortable, given ticket prices that range from $159 to $799). Many even brought their own cranky and clumsy teenagers.

The key to the goth’s transgenerational appeal is its uncanny mix of gloomy and glamorous. Before the term gothic was established, the emerging movement was briefly known as “positive punk”. That may seem like an odd adjective given the dark worldview, but the silver lining is the dress-up and cosplay element, the great effort that goes into personal beautification. It’s a perennially seductive style whose sepulchral glamor beckons as an alternative to the conventional ideals of blonde and tanned health, especially in SoCal. Heavy black eyeliner and white face makeup, holey fishnets, and frayed hair also serve as a beacon for fellow misfits, a way to find your tribe while scaring the normals away. It’s a commanding look that also suggests the forbidden: a taste for sin and wickedness, with a hint of demonic cruelty. Despite the impious appearance, it’s probably the gentlest of the youth subcultures – visually a poke in the eye, but in truth, it’s the goths and their emo descendants who are often the victims of violence and not the other way around.

My favorite piece of clothing in Cruel World was a simple homemade T-shirt with the slogan “No, I don’t want to hear new stuff.” Gary Numan, however, did not appear to have received the memo. Despite making a name for himself with dystopian electropop and doom, he doggedly regaled the audience with a lot of breaking material: industrial rock from a phase that seemed to be following the cues of Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson. Numan performed his classic “Cars.” And you have to appreciate the effort he’s putting into looking the same as he did in his heavily rotated MTV days.

Gary Numan performs Saturday at Cruel World.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Not all Cruel World attendees were goths, and angst wasn’t the only thing on the menu. Squeeze (a last-minute replacement for Adam Ant) sounded as upbeat and enthusiastic as ever. Still looking youthful at 65, Glenn Tilbrook sang the group’s post-Beatles classics like “Pulling Mussels From a Shell” with timeless sweetness. Billy Idol looks a bit craggy these days and the rebellious mocking lip doesn’t curl like it used to, but he had a good voice and woke up the second stage crowd with hits like “Dancing With Myself” and “Rebel Yell,” interspersed with consummate showman babble.

ABC and the Human League also hail from that early Second British Invasion MTV moment: post-punk artists who shined and intersected. They both hail from Sheffield in north-east England, an original stronghold of gothic, but have nothing to do with miserabilism and write songs (“Tears Are Not Enough” and “Blind Youth,” respectively) that are militantly upbeat.

Then there’s Gang of Four, whose bleakness, inspired by the ravages of capitalism, is quite different from the gothic, and which makes up for it with grim resolution. They were as powerful a live band as ever, with singer Jon King working out so vigorously that he had to sit at the monitor at the front of the stage between songs to catch his breath.

Echo & the Bunnymen’s Ian McCulloch performs at Cruel World.

(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)

Drifting closer to the dark side, Echo & the Bunnymen have songs about death (“The Cutter”) and despair (“All My Colors”). But they are delivered with such momentum and dazzle that the effect is uplifting. On songs like “Rescue,” Ian McCulloch’s sonorous baritone is reminiscent of Jim Morrison at his most regal. Most of the Bunnymen’s songs traffic in a windswept romanticism filled with elemental imagery. They didn’t do much to the scenery: there were some fine wisps of dry ice, but the video screens were off and there were no overhead projections, as McCulloch remained motionless throughout. But the songs and singing were more than enough.

And then, Cruel Nature struck. In the middle of a tense and joyful set of Human League on one stage and a high school student dancing to Iggy Pop’s “The Passenger” on another, the show came to an abrupt halt. The audience was directed to leave the festival site and seek shelter due to an approaching thunderstorm.

And then the even crueler twist: Menacing lightning, thunder, rain, and pea-sized hail never reached Pasadena.

Iggy Pop performs in Cruel World.

(Nicolita Bradley / Cruel World)

To the credit of promoter Goldenvoice and the headliners, Cruel World managed to reschedule performances by Iggy Pop and Siouxsie for the following night. “Déjà vu, baby!” said Pop on Sunday, acknowledging “Groundhog Day” reassembly environment. I first saw Pop live in 1988 and even then he struck me as venerable, a rock ‘n’ roll survivor, albeit with improbably limitless reserves of energy. Thirty-five years later, at 76, he’s still ridiculously dynamic. Leaping across the stage shirtless with a disconcerting gait that suggests something is wrong with his hip, he simultaneously owns and defies his seniority. He couldn’t muster the lung power for the cyclone howl that splits the original “TV Eye,” so during that section he tucked the microphone into his waistband where he bulged suggestively. But for the most part, ably supported by his band, pop was propelled through immortal classics like “Raw Power,” “Gimme Danger,” “Sick of You,” “I Wanna Be Your Dog,” and “Search.” and Destroy”. Clearly a man determined to rock ‘n’ roll.

Dusk fell and finally the Goddess of Goth took the stage. Siouxsie relived the trauma of the night before, joking that she told the fire department that the lightning was “just part of our f— light show.” Initially cloaked in a medieval-looking hood, she wore a silver jumpsuit that shimmered in the light. Her voice has grown deeper over the decades, but this gave her singing an even more sinister authority, evoking a kind of vengeful spirit of matriarchy. The set began with “Nightshift” and “Arabian Knights,” both from “Juju,” the 1981 album that’s gothic Rosetta Stone. It’s Siouxsie without the Banshees: guitarist John McGeoch is dead, drummer Budgie is now Siouxsie’s ex-spouse, and who knows if the band’s bassist and co-founder Steve Severin was invited or consulted. But the onstage Banshees stand-ins did a fine job of doubling down on the crystal-clear guitar, droning bass, and tribal rhythms.

Siouxsie’s return was a qualified triumph: there was a touch of overly pompous dirge to the set list, and as her energy level dropped, the vocals became unwieldy. But with a glorious rendition of “Happy House” and stunning encores of “Spellbound” and “Israel,” the idol earned her a standing ovation.