Blackberry Belle – Movement Magazine
Greg Dulli is back. The Afghan Whigs may be buried and past be past; but Dulli has risen. And he is shining brighter than a thousand moons. This is music for the gloaming. For the inbetween time. This is where you go to feel beauty. Not to see it, or to know it. To feel it. When you hear this record, you will know what I mean. It isnít lofty, grandiose. It isnít epic or explosive. Dulli sounds as though he s trying to sing the stars down. “I caught a fever, a holy fire” so says “The Killer” and yes, you will. This album haunts you, curses you, and cuts you. But Dulli provides the salve. His voice velvet on broken glass and here is where you will remain: cut, bruised, scarred, and safe in the arms of a vicarious catharsis rarely delivered anymore. There is a certain pimpstride bravado which contrasts to the silent star-strewn-sky humbleness, both of which make appearances on this album. If he keeps writing beauty like this, God will take him soon, as he did Elliott Smith and Johnny Cash. Let us hope Dulli lives to play this beauty into infinity forever and ever and ever, amen.