rock and roll musings by Tim Byrnes

You’re Going To Lie About This In the Future: We’ve Lost the Afghan Whigs

I’ve already written about the Afghan Whigs and specifically Rick McCollum in previous posts and I’m a-gonna keep on writing about them until there is a statue of Greg Dulli and company in St Peter’s Square at the Vatican because it will be at such time, and not a second sooner, that I will know that we have truly, finally, overcome and it’s ok to stop talking. If haven’t heard the band, get something NOW. My personal recommendation would be, of course, Gentlemen, their 1993 masterpiece. If you have heard the band then you know why I’m all het-up that they get their due, either that or you don’t get the Whigs. This is understandable as the Afghan Whigs seldom offered anything in a simple or even pleasant manner, much less the sort of bite-sized, stylized anaesthesia wrapped in pretty paper sung by the impossibly beautiful that we reward so grandly in America today.

The first time I heard of the Afghan Whigs was through a review in some magazine that said Gentlemen sounded like Big Star doing Lou Reed’s Berlin, two references that are sure to make a wannabee rock critic such as myself take notice. I had seen print ads previously for their Congregation album, but no real press, nothing to acquaint me with their music. Which is sad because every Tom, Dick and Trouser Press was hipping me to Nirvana and Pearl Jam and Pearl Jam and Nirvana and just everybody! In any event I’m glad I caught that review because it made me buy the record. It sound nothing like Big Star dong Berlin to me (Though what a great concept! Somebody get me Alex Chilton on the phone. Alex, this is Tim. Listen......) But it sounded big. And real.

Sorta like Alice Cooper doing Like a Rolling Stone.

Greg Dulli is the ultimate Tomcat, raw sexuality radiates from the sounds of the music. His voice at turns that of a conniving child and a rabid preacher, every consonant and vowel leered at, licked and spat out in an acid wash that corrodes the costumes and customs of our civilized world, stripping those artifices bare, down to the ragged bones and hanks of hair, down to the self-serving survival mechanisms we are. And you can dance to it. What I got from the Afghan Whigs, but especially Dulli, was that it was good to recognize the baser instincts and to give them a little rein now and then. By denying them, by making the dark places secret, you gave that part of you, that part of life, more power than it deserves. What struck me the most about the band was it’s honesty. Unflinching takes on the nature of men and women where no one was innocent and no one quite guilty, depending on one’s perspective. Just like real life.

No, more like Steppenwolf doing The Rites of Spring.

Lest I paint too narrow a picture of the band by concentrating on their lyrics, let it be stated that the Afghan Whigs were black hearted soul men of the first order, growing from the ramalama punkisms of Up in It to the rolling well-oiled New Orleans funk of 1965 with stops at Tamla/Motown/Stax-style jams and what can only be called Vampire Gospel at points in between.

And now that I think about it Gentlemen sound more like the Dead Boys playing Sympathy For the Devil.

The Afghan Whigs did things that no other band did. The out of tune background vocals that are just right. The slide guitar/cello duet on ‘The Vampire Lestat". Dulli bellowing the words "Do you think I’m beautiful? Do you think I’m evil?" and not sounding the least bit ridiculous, and for the record, the answer is yes to both questions. Beautiful because he sounds like a force of nature finally set free, evil because it’s all a front. Like all rock and roll is a front. Like we’re all fronts. But in the grinding gears of the Afghan Whigs dream machine we can sweat like the animals we are but can’t allow ourselves to be, while Dulli and McCollum and Curley and the drummer beat the super ego into submission and gives the id a little time on the dance floor.

Make that like Prince doing Blank Generation.

Dulli is, if not a more significant figure in punk rock than Johnny Rotten, than he’s certainly the greater artist. With the Afghan Whigs he presented a fully formed vision, cinematic in it’s scope and sweep, that communicated real feeling and addressed the more complex issues of life and death; love, lust, murder, guilt, shame, arson and the cool breeze confidence of the true sociopath. And Rick McCollum is the reason god invented the wah wah pedal.

Like Sigur Ros doing The Theme From Shaft.

We have, however, lost the Afghan Whigs. We lost them to indifference and, I’m guessing, poor record sales because the word did not get out. Not enough. And if there were a band currently making records that I felt this strongly about, I’d be happy to write about them. There just not out there. But it’s not too late to save the work for posterity, do it for the children, people! Face it, all you rock critic types who missed the boat will be lying through yer teeth in 10 years time about how much you adored the Afghan Whigs back in the 20^th century and "isn’t it wonderful that they’ve attracted so vast an audience this far along, like the Velvet Underground in the 70's". ‘Cause we can make this happen, people. But we gotta stand up and look the devil in the eye! Avoid the rush and get on board this train! I’m going to continue to tell the world what a great band it missed because it was afraid to look in a mirror and urge, yes brothers and sisters, urge you to move, to go to that record store and buy you some Afghan Whigs!

They sound like Da Vinci doing the dishes.

‘Cause if you don’t, well then the terrorists win....... or something. Just buy the damn records, you’ll thank me for it later. I was right about Sonic Youth in 84.

Posted by: timbyrnes at 23:15 | link | comments (1)

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