Riffs, Revolutions, and Rock ‘n’ Roll: The Epic Journey of The Cult, Rick Rubin, and Iggy Pop

In the mid-80s, British gothic rock band The Cult had an ambitious dream: to cross the ocean and conquer the American stage. With their 1985 album Love under their belt, they were already stars in the UK, but Ian Astbury, their charismatic frontman, longed for fame in the United States. Inspired by bands like Love, The Doors, The Stooges, and Aerosmith, Astbury knew that post-punk wouldn't be enough to captivate an America in love with loud rock 'n' roll and screeching guitars—sounds inherited from bands like Aerosmith and Kiss. Post-punk, in fact, was the complete opposite. Still, Astbury was well aware of the respect that English bands like The Fall, The Birthday Party, and especially Killing Joke had earned in the American underground at the time.

So, Astbury and his partner-in-crime, guitarist Billy Duffy, decided to make a radical shift in the band’s sound. They wanted crushing riffs and thunderous drums. To achieve that, they needed a bold producer who could understand their vision. And they found one: Rick Rubin. Coming from the underground band Hose and having produced for Run DMC and Slayer, Rubin was obsessed with the simplicity of “bad boy” rock in the vein of AC/DC. He remembered how Judas Priest, after touring with AC/DC, had transformed their sound with the hit album British Steel.

Rubin believed he had found the ultimate formula to create the greatest hard rock band of all time: the guitars of Back in Black, the rhythms of Highway to Hell, and the vocal power of Led Zeppelin. He challenged The Cult: “Are you going to keep playing wimpy English music or do real rock 'n' roll?” The Cult’s response was a resounding: “Rock 'n' roll!” Duffy became a riff machine à la Malcolm Young, while Astbury explored the vocal depths of Jim Morrison and Steven Tyler. The result was a record that would ignite the second wave of hard rock in the U.S.—one that would be even more commercially successful than the first, which had emerged in Los Angeles with bands like Van Halen and Quiet Riot.

Electric, produced by Rubin, was released in 1987 and catapulted The Cult into hard rock stardom in the U.S. Their post-punk past was left behind—almost forgotten. Interestingly, The Cult became the band that opened the door for giants like Guns N' Roses, Metallica, Mötley Crüe, and Soundgarden. On top of that, Astbury played a crucial role in bringing two of his idols back to the stage: the godfather of punk, Iggy Pop, and one of punk rock’s pillars, former Sex Pistols guitarist Steve Jones. Electric was filled with powerful hard rock tracks like “Wild Flower,” “Peace Dog,” “Lil Devil,” and “Love Removal Machine.” 1987 was, without a doubt, the year hard rock made a massive comeback on the charts, alongside the debut of Guns N' Roses and the resurgence of Aerosmith.

The Cult was on top of the world, and for their next step, they chose to work with the sound engineer of their idols Aerosmith: Bob Rock. This marked Rock’s leap into the big leagues as a producer. Part of the musical revival that The Cult sparked involved reintroducing forgotten elements of American hard rock, bringing back the sound of Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, and AC/DC. They also connected with underground bands who loved post-punk, like Jane’s Addiction and Soundgarden. And most surprising of all, they brought Steve Jones, the Sex Pistols, and Iggy Pop—who had barely emerged from the obscurity of the early '80s—back into style. Astbury was essential in getting Iggy Pop to reunite with musicians like Jones and members of Guns N' Roses. After these encounters, Pop went on to record two albums: Instinct with Steve Jones and Brick by Brick with parts of Guns N' Roses.

By 1988, Iggy Pop was desperately trying to distance himself from his association with David Bowie, who had fully embraced commercial pop. That’s why he turned his gaze toward the world of hard rock. At that time, The Stooges had been reclaimed by bands like The Cult, Guns N' Roses, and Hanoi Rocks. It was ironic that the pioneer of punk rock would team up with the iconic Pistols guitarist to create a hard rock album with AC/DC-style guitars. Bill Laswell, a musician and producer from New York’s experimental scene, was chosen to produce the record, making the collaboration even more unusual. Instinct was a clear and unapologetic attempt to position Pop within the hard rock world of the mid-80s, blending the best and worst of the genre's conventions. Yes, Instinct was undeniably a hard rock album, but one that offered a strange context for the very godfather of punk rock.

I remember perfectly hearing Instinct at age 12. It was the first time I had ever heard of Iggy Pop. By then, I was already listening to the Sex Pistols, and Jones had led me straight to that record. I recall the video for “Cold Metal” on TV, and how Pop was announced as “the grandfather of rock,” a title that caught my father’s attention. My dad thought that intro referred to Mick Jagger of the Rolling Stones and simply said Pop was “a copy of Mick Jagger.” Honestly, Instinct could’ve been a good Jagger album. But what stood out was how Jones’s guitar no longer sounded like a Chuck Berry heir. Now, Jones had adopted Billy Duffy’s modus operandi. He sounded like a disciple of Malcolm Young. There’s no doubt AC/DC’s influence loomed large over American hard rock at the time.

If Pop had his chance to return in the mid-80s, backed by The Cult, Guns N’ Roses, and Steve Jones, then why couldn’t Jones himself? Jones had released Mercy in 1987, but it wasn’t a hard rock album, and many were left confused. The Instinct sessions with Pop reignited Jones’s fire, and by 1989, he was ready to return to loud guitars. Ian Astbury personally took on the production of Fire and Gasoline for Jones. Members of The Cult and Guns N’ Roses supported the former Pistol. The sound came as no surprise: AC/DC-style guitars were the main ingredient in a hard rock album that would fly mostly under the radar, despite the fact that Jones had recorded a version of “Anarchy in the UK” with Megadeth a year earlier—and just a few years later, Mötley Crüe would do their own version. What strikes me is how easily Jones entered the American market, while his former Pistols bandmate, John Lydon, was completely ignored in the U.S. for sticking to post-punk. In fact, bands admired by Rubin, like Flipper, released albums mocking Lydon’s band.

Fire and Gasoline is an enjoyable, though generic, record. It’s clear that Jones, like Pop, was embracing a sound that wasn’t entirely his own. It’s astonishing how The Cult, Pop, and Jones all used the same formula Judas Priest had learned from AC/DC: simple rhythms, basic guitars, and strong choruses. Direct and loud, but lacking the original genius of the Young brothers. Meanwhile, AC/DC had just released the excellent Blow Up Your Video, fully aware that their original sound now dominated the hard rock world. That’s why they returned to their original producers: Vanda & Young. By then, The Cult had a new producer and wanted to pursue an even more traditional hard rock sound under Bob Rock’s guidance. And Rubin, meanwhile, was searching for his next “perfect rock band,” applying the same formula he’d used with The Cult—but improved. The AC/DC-style guitars and drums remained, but Rubin had found a vocalist—also with punk roots—who sounded more like Jim Morrison than Astbury himself. Thus, Rubin would go on to produce the debut album of Danzig, a band that had emerged from the American underground and was also shedding its gothic rock roots to fully embrace hard rock.