I'm two nights away from checking Greg Dulli off my list.
No, not that list. (Okay, he's on that one, too, but just don't even get me started.) This is more of a Bucket List thing.
See, I have loved the Afghan Whigs for a very long time. Since I first heard Gentlemen, in fact—sometime around 1994. Loveloveloved it immediately. That love didn't waiver, even when they broke up in 2001. Somehow I never got to see them live, and then they were gone.
But Greg Dulli kept going. He did multiple records with the Twilight Singers. He did some stuff with Mark Lanegan as the Gutter Twins. He did some fabulous solo stuff, too. I finally got to see the Twilight Singers live last year at the Masquerade, front and center. All I can say is... ungh.
"I don't get that whole Greg Dulli thing," Mandypants said to me. "I just don't see it."
I know the Afghan Whigs (and Dulli and his music in general) tend to be something you get or something you don't. There's no in-between when it comes to this; you love it or just... don't.
Yes, I know the Afghan Whigs are more than Greg Dulli. Rick McCollum and John Curley are just as integral to that soul-punk sound that I adore, but I'm such a vocals and lyrics girl that I tend to focus on the singer.
There is something about that voice and those words that I just can't get enough of. Somehow there's all this simultaneous love and hate and sex and grudge and God and fear and sex and loathing and... did I mention the sex? It's there, always. No matter what the subject of the song is, no matter the inspiration, there's always this element of brutally honest, broken down carnality that's utterly mesmerizing to me. Every record, from beginning to end, is a painfully poignant vocal fuck that just wears me out and makes me blissful in an aftermath of emotional obliteration.
So my friend, Adam, texted me early this year that the Afghan Whigs were doing All Tomorrow's Parties. I seriously debated skipping South by Southwest to go to ATP instead. My plans for surgery wouldn't allow it, and then it was announced that there would be other select tour dates.
Then there was a download of a new track. And then another.
And then came the news that they would indeed be in Atlanta.
I squealed and did a little dance of joy in my office when I got the presale email.
So now I'm just two days away from seeing the band I've most missed being able to see for the last ten years. I can hardly stand the anticipation.
I've spent the last couple of weeks listening to their entire catalog, over and over. I've immersed myself in that base voice and those wrenching lyrics. And, yes, even in the guitars. Looking over the setlists from each show, I can't even begin to guess what they'll play. I would love to hear "Let Me Lie to You" and "What Jail Is Like" and "Somethin' Hot". Oh, and "Neglekted". Always "Neglekted". (And Tierney's favorite, "John the Baptist", which she says might be the most perfect song ever. EVER.)
Don't look for me Saturday night. Don't call me or text me. Don't expect me to come up out of that Greg Dulli-induced fog of terrifyingly beautiful groupie-love exhaustion until sometime on Sunday. Or Monday. Or maybe next month.
The Afghan Whigs will be at the Masquerade Music Park with Wussy on Saturday, October 20th. Limited tickets are still available.
NOTE: AN hour after I posted this, The Afghan Whigs updated their Facebook to say that the show is now sold out. Too bad, doodad.