The Afghan Whigs @ O2 ABC, 18 July
“I don’t care what age you are, there’s a fuckin’ 16 year old inside,” after 100-odd minutes of sweating and roaring his way through a heady collection of reinvigorated Whigs staples and compelling new jams, a grinning Greg Dulli – the perennial savior of misbehaviour – finally draws breath and gives an uncharacteristically subdued Glasgow crowd his express permission to lose control for the encore.
Unseen in these parts since 1999, standoffishness was never the Afghan Whigs' scene; what distanced the reformed Cincinnati hedonists from the nihilistic apathy of their old peers was the will and deft ability to counterbalance the agony with the ecstasy – but tonight’s not just about reliving old glories.
Transcending nostalgia maybe wasn’t the goal when they first reconvened for a run of gigs in 2012, but latest LP Do to the Beast [reviewed here] – the majority of which we see come alive in vivid colours this evening – is reassuring proof that anything’s still possible in rock’n’roll. From the grinding brute force of set opener Parked Outside to the measured light and shade of Lost in the Woods, there are lessons to be learned by young indie rock pretenders.
Ever proud to demonstrate their influences, it’s also a whistle-stop ride through the hall of fame. “Let’s ride the Crazy Horse,” Dulli announces as Dave Rosser embarks on Algiers’ fuzzbox solo. My Enemy, meanwhile – exhilarating in the hands of this latest six piece incarnation – could belong to nobody else.
“I've never met a mash-up I didn't appreciate,” Dulli once told The Skinny in interview. Tonight they arrive by the boatload; When We Two Parted is fused to Drake’s Over My Dead Body, while Fleetwood Mac’s Tusk finishes off I Am Fire, the black clad frontman furiously beating a floor tom front and centre. A visceral interpretation of Jesus Christ Superstar’s Heaven On Their Minds is devastating in its fusion with their own neo-soul classic Somethin’ Hot. They see us off with a touching salute for the late Bobby Womack as Across 110th Street neatly dovetails into Black Love tear-jerker Faded, their enduring charm and cathartic power in plain view.