Cult of Youth

Cult of Youth

Remember ‘80s goth rock like Sisters of Mercy and Death In June? Remember the drama of Theater of Hate’s Westworld You soon will. The roiling toms and tribal, glittering percussion of “New West” that opens this debut by Brooklyn’s Cult of Youth give way to a dark, nagging bassline and Spaghetti Western guitars, immediately taking the listener back twenty five years. When Sean Ragon’s baleful croak comes into focus, sounding like Pogues’ frontman Shane MacGowan with his pants on fire, the song wavers between coming undone and building to a satisfying crescendo. (The latter happens.) It’s probably time for a real goth-rock revival, and Cult of Youth picked a fine moniker to go with their darkly unsettling sound that some call “goth-folk.” We don’t see the “folk” part of the equation ourselves, though there are spooky violins and somber acoustic guitars, and Ragon claims horror flick The Wicker Man as an influence (the film is full of musical folk oddities). Cult of Youth more accurately serves up a sparer version of the classic goth sound here, with Ragon’s portentous croon leading the way. Follow at your own risk.

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