IT’S STILL ROCK ‘N’ ROLL TO THE CULT

Ian Astbury was frustrated. His band, the Cult, was scheduled to play a date in Austin, Tex., last week, but the show was canceled when it was discovered that the hall was too small for the English quartet’s sound equipment.

Astbury was also discouraged because the Cult (due at San Diego State on Friday and the Hollywood Palladium on Saturday) hasn’t received the radio play in America he thinks it deserves. “It’s really frustrating, especially in the Midwest,” the singer said during a recent phone interview. “You go to these radio stations that are basically playing rock music, which is what we do in the broadest sense of the word, yet they won’t pick up on us because of the name, or the image.”

Image could be the key . The Cult’s problem is that it doesn’t sound the way it looks.

The band’s full-throttle guitar approach keys a tasty meat-and-potatoes mix of old- and new-wave sensibilities that really wouldn’t sound too out of place on a Midwestern rock station.

But the band’s record sleeves, song titles and attire all reflect the anything-goes style of the ‘60s. The Paisley shirts, love beads, peace pins and American Indian and Egyptian imagery are more likely to remind you of the folksy-psychedelic salad days of the Byrds and Love than Led Zeppelin or post-acid Pink Floyd--two of Cult guitarist-songwriter Billy Duffy’s main influences.

Both Astbury and Duffy say they’re not out to start a ‘60s revival. They do, however, have an appreciation for the era’s counterculture.

“In the 1960s people really ran their own lives,” observed Astbury, whose long dark hair puts him out of step with the upscale ‘80s. “They were fed up with what old people were doing. And they decided to use their imaginations and to do something like explore every aspect of life, fashion being one of them.

“They pooled their resources with clothes from all different periods and different cultures. Then all of a sudden it became uncool to be imaginative. Everyone went bland and boring. Recently, most people haven’t been using their imaginations enough.”

Astbury said he enjoys seeing long-haired Cult fans decked out in fringed jackets and headbands at the band’s concerts. “I think it’s great. It’s really, really good that they feel positive about the way they dress.”

Duffy sounded a bit more cautious. “The kinds of people that come to see us are people I’d like to see as a bit free-thinking. They don’t particularly hark back to the punk-rock ideology. They’re the kids who are a little bit more interested in exploring other areas of life and music than just what happened since 1976. . . .

“It’s not a big psychedelic fashion thing. We’re trying to play that down a little bit because it’s gotten a bit out of hand in America.”

Astbury’s previous band, Southern Death Cult, and Duffy’s old outfit, Theatre of Hate, were both minimalist post-punk groups. Astbury and Duffy joined forces in 1982 to form a more traditional, guitar-oriented group. The new band was called Death Cult, but to sever all ties to the gloom-rock movement, they shortened its name to Cult.

Now that Duffy and Astbury are creating the music they want, the main objective is getting more people to see beyond the image.

“The music is the most important thing and if we have to sacrifice certain aspects of the imagery, then that’s what were going to have to do,” Astbury said.

“We want to communicate our music. Unfortunately we’re also very much into clothes. If we looked more like the Smiths or U2 we’d be fine.

“We have made an effort (to tone down on the fashion), but I don’t think we’re doing that well. I think we’re actually becoming more extreme.”