There couldn’t be less anticipation for a new album by aging rockers The Cult. They passed their prime nearly 15 years ago with a spate of formula-heavy albums that relied on dead simple riffs and even simpler bass grooves, held together by front man Ian Astbury’s fur-hatted posturing and patented “oooh, yeahs.” When it worked, it was brilliant, but it hasn’t worked for a long time now.