6. The Twilight Singers play Blackberry Belle

When Afghan Whigs ended, Greg Dulli formed Twilight Singers and it all seemed a bit watered down at first. Then he dropped Blackberry Belle on us. Stunning. Possibly his best record since Black Love. Pick it up if you can but the really smart people should ensure they grab any opportunity to see Dulli live. It doesn’t matter which guise. The Whigs (if only), Twilight Singers, Gutter Twins – if any of these bands pass through your town, go buy a ticket. I swear if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll refund you myself.

Those fearful that Dulli might have however shredded the stylistic blueprints that the Whigs drew up over six albums should rest pretty easy, in fact much of Blackberry Belle could pass as a lost Whigs album if it weren’t for the personnel involved. Eschewing the overbearing electronic embellishments that marred The Twilight Singers’ 2000 debut, Twilight as Played By the Twilight Singers, and avoiding the highly-polished production values of The Whigs’ swansong 1965 (perhaps out of financial necessity, now that Dulli has returned to indie-label land), Blackberry Belle is a logical sequel to The Whigs’ often-overlooked 1996 opus, Black Love. Hence the musical exteriors are smeared in thick layers of garrulous guitars, sweeping strings, New Orleans brass, and enough funky-keyboards to knock out a decent 70s Stevie Wonder record with. It’s not an easy mix however, there’s nothing here that’s quite as immediate as tracks from The Whigs’ all-time 1992 classic Congregation or from the radio-friendly 1965. This is an album that takes a lot of listening before Dulli’s sweet and sick brand of soul-music really sticks in your ears. Some initial spins – as with Gentlemen and Black Love – are perversely off-putting, as Dulli’s thick often grinding arrangements and bellicose approach to singing seems to squeeze his heavy-melodies until the pips squeak.

Keep scratching through the sonic surfaces, however, and the songs really begin to bleed with sanguine lust and damaged reflection. The sweeping weight of “Martin Eden” and the thrusting chug of “Teenage Wristband” recall past-Whigs hook-sinkers like “What Jail is Like” and “Going to Town” with admirable force and flair. The whispery acoustics, looped percussion and husky low vocals of “St. Gregory” hold together naked allegories of Dulli’s last few years in the wilderness; “I heard your woman left you / I heard you quit your band.” Elsewhere on “Decatur St.” we find Dulli cruising Issac Hayes-style through the shady side of town confessing that “I’m no good and I like it” and “Maybe my soul is like a vacant lot.” Unlikely musical fusions don’t come much more impressive than on “Papillion,” where Dulli’s ensemble twist a country lament (with banjos no less) into a mangled meltdown of clavinet-heavy funk strutting. Providing some respite, the gorgeous “Follow You Down” is a sublime slice of serenity (with sultry guest backing vocals from Nikki Crawford) wherein Dulli’s brutish bravado slides into mournful regret; “Somebody put a gun in my face / Go ahead I said “erase’.”

The closing “Number Nine” brings out both the best and the worst of Dulli’s musical and emotional visions. Casting himself as the devil, with guest Mark Lanegan (The Screaming Trees, Queens of the Stone Age) vocalising his inner-monologue, we find Dulli confronting (“I ain’t myself anymore / I’m crawlin’ around like a whore”) and comforting his internal demons (“Come on boy / Don’t be such a baby / And maybe / I’ll bail you out / One more time”). Musically, we’re also given a treat as a well as torture, as the slow-building barroom ballad tumbles into a cringe-inducing Pink Floydian coda (complete with awful wailing vocals a la Dark Side of the Moon from guest singer Petra Haden). Dulli, it seems, still can’t help sharing some of his most perverse personal tastes with the record-buying public.

Musically rich (perhaps too rich) and lyrically dark (maybe a tad too dark), Blackberry Belle is the work of a man crawling out of a long-imprisoning hole, only to find nothing has really changed but the lines on his face and the number of friends and ex-lovers he could once rely upon. A flawed, but consistently compelling, comeback from one of the 1990′s most charismatic scoundrels.

Lake State’s The Compass

4/4 Stars

Greg Dulli made some great music with the Afghan Whigs and he continues to do so with The Twilight Singers on their album Blackberry Belle. Dulli has an amazing skill at writing songs about things like suicide and alleyway beatings, but also at making them seductive and attractive not to mention funky as hell.

“Martin Eden” opens slowly with the line “Black out the windows/it’s party time/you know how I love stormy weather/so, let’s all play suicide”. Dulli’s voice unfurls like a snake, slinking about ready to strike. This track sets the stage for a dark adventure through his weird mind.

“Teenage Wristband” details the mind of a rebellious young woman as she has “sixteen hours to burn and I’m gonna stay up all night.” “St. Gregory” hints at Dulli’s personal problems of late (“I heard your woman left you-/I heard you quit your band”), with murmered vocals as the guitar gently strums and the beat builds.

While the music is dark, it has amazing variety and joy to it and Dulli displays a proficiency to recruit just the right musicians for the right songs. He is the only constant player from song to song, sort of a grand orchestrater organizing his band. The most notable guest is Mark Lanegan who provides his trademark voice to the album closer “Number Nine”.

Despite the darkness of its content and packaging, the whole thing works as a catharsis for Dulli and so the resulting product is a work of great passion and rocking music. The Afghan Whigs may be gone, but Twilight singers more than take up the slack. Just remember to keep the lights on.

The ghost of fin de siècle American writer Jack London makes an appearance, too, in “Martin Eden,” (the title of London’s semi-autobiographical novel about a depression-prone artist) which suggests Dulli has lately come to the realization that the life of a creative soul – which he’s lived to the hilt – is no life at all. “Black out the windows,” he croons. “It’s party time.” And Dulli’s characters will die if they want to.

A telephone’s busy signal kicks off the sexy strut of “Esta Noche,” a Rhodes organ and horn section igniting this torch song in R&B clothing. “Teenage Wristband,” meanwhile, cops a piano vibe from Coldplay, with Petra Haden snaking her voice inside Dulli’s, driving home the song’s chorus of adolescent longing (“I’m gonna stay up all night”). And “St. Gregory” car-jacks Leonard Cohen, tempting the sardonic bard with promises of gangsta-land violence (“Goddamn, I got me a gun/We goin’ cappin later on/Don’t that sound like fun?”).

Violence and misogyny have always been Dulli’s twin obsessions, and his Afghan Whigs effort, Gentlemen, stands as a monument in the alt-rock tradition, alongside such works as Daydream Nation and Nevermind. While Blackberry Belle may not match the power of these earlier works, it’s still a unique effort that deserves a wide audience.

Blackberry opens without hesitation on the brooding Martin Eden. The opening lines “Black out the windows, it’s party time” says it all, and the piano intro getting sideswiped by the wall of guitars is a good indication of what Dulli has in mind. Things heat up quickly on Esta Noche as well. Paced by a sampled telephone busy signal, guitars dive and soar while Dulli croons lines like “Let me bleed awhile, cause people wanna taste- so taste me.”

Dulli’s always been about laying out the phattest lines, and this time he’s saved some of his best “Why you watch a car wreck muthafucker- cause it looks fun to die” from Fat City, “I’m one of them sad boys who’s hypnotized by girls who walk the walk” from Decatur St. and “You wanna go for a ride? I’ve got sixteen hours to burn, and I’m gonna stay up all night” from Teenage Wristband.

If there is a single criticism, it’s that the mix of Teenage Wristband makes this powerful song seems a little muddled and unfocused. The track itself has all of the right elements in all of the right places- the opening piano, the crashing guitars, and Dulli’s vocals surfing just below the fray. But there’s clearly too much going on and the sheer sexuality of the song gets compromised in the process. A killer track, nevertheless. And guaranteed to become a live staple.

The whiskey-soaked Number Nine is a duet with ex-Screaming Tree’s vocalist Mark Lanegan. It’s a great tune, but something of a non-sequitor with the rest of the album. It would have fit much better on the Whig’s earlier Black Love release, had it been written then. Nice touch closing with it, as the dirge-like is a fitting outro to this dark, moist disc.

For me, if I had to choose a single highlight it would be the street ballad Fat City, a new version of a track that had been released earlier on a DJ Muggs CD. The track is the story of a bunch of street sinners getting a little too close to the flame. Subtle breakbeats give the song an appropriately frantic pace. Dulli sings the song with such attitude and authenticity, and even gets ex-Prince hottie Appollonia to kick in backing vocals. It’s infectious and a nice new approach for Dulli’s repertoire, as if he has taken the best elements introduced on Twilight built from there.

Blackberry Belle has all of the darkness, the street smarts and all of the edgy possibility that is the genius of Greg Dulli. Here he has become Springsteen’s evil stepbrother, crafting out stories of the street without filters. There is not a single bummer on the eleven tracks on Blackberry. It’s pure sex and drugs out to song, and it doesn’t get any purer than this. This is one of the hottest releases of the year, so unless you’re a foo, seek it out, baby.

By MARCUS CROWDER, The Sacramento Bee
Original

Greg Dulli, late of the Afghan Whigs, has a new band, but he isn’t straying far from his identifiable sound.

On his second Twilight Singers release, the singer-songwriter-co-producer layers his straining and soulful vocals over dense, fuzzy guitar beds and simple rhythmic pulses.

Though the sound is similar to the last Afghan releases, “Black Love” and “1965,” with more keyboard and horn flourishes, Dulli has given it a brighter sheen. Dulli’s bands have always bonded punk energy and attitude with a sly reverence for funk and soul. It’s a thick and heavy soup even when Dulli’s brooding songs are tender and seductive. He’s not afraid of digging deep inside himself, peeling back layers of wounded male psyche.

And, of course, there’s a woman or two messing with his mind and his libido, causing all the internal combustion. Though “Blackberry Belle” (One Little Indian) isn’t as engaging as 2000′s “Twilight as Played by the Twilight Singers,” Dulli remains a distinctive alternative musical presence.

Searching, loss and redemption are all explored in gloriously rich detail by Greg Dulli, singer/songwriter leader of the seminally stylistic Afghan Whigs, and his new music collective, The Twilight Singers. Started originally as a hiatus project, it’s now a full-time job since the remaining Whigs decided to get all domestic and break-up.

Sounding fresher and more at home than ever, Dulli slips on the crooner smoking jacket as naturally as Hef slips on a boob-jobbed blonde. I always thought it was pulsing wah-wah reverb guitar that made the Whigs sound so Whigs-like. After hearing this, for the Twilight Singers, the defining instrument is obviously the drums. Front and centre in the mix, they create a distinctive opulent sound. Opening with a deceptively melodic to-and fro keyboard waltz ‘Martin Eden’ invites us into a blacked out dirge suicide party and the dark arts joyride that is ‘Blackberry Belle’ doesn’t let up from there. Springsteen circa Asbury Park-era piano opening on ‘Teenage Wristband’ lets Dulli wrap his legs round a female driver’s velvet rims to embark on a journey to anywhere but here. In fact, a lot of this is reminiscent of 1970s Boss with its snap of horns and crisp breezy keyboards. Plus, it uses the same two central metaphors: cars = freedom and a woman has the ability to both lock down your soul, as well as set it free. The difference is that Dulli lacks Springsteen’s over-arching sense of hopeful hopelessness. For Dulli, no matter where you are, you are still where you don’t want to be.

The three-song cluster of ‘The Killer’, ‘Decatur St.’ and ‘Papillon’ form the guts of this album. A throbbing heartbeat bass kicks off ‘The Killer’, while guitar fuzz veers and crashes like a drunk driver, which then seeps into ‘Decatur St.’s rock-soul-hybrid salute to “the saviour of misbehaviour” only to have all that masculine bravado rip open to reveal a broken vulnerability represented by the delicately flushed acoustic melody of ‘Papillion’, probably the closest thing to a true love song here. But since its Dulli-penned, the idea of falling in love is described as being “infected”. Finally, ‘Number Nine’ majestically ends this body of work. Dulli’s leather-soft tenor, Mark Lanegan’s (of Screaming Trees fame) burnt baritone and Petra Hayden’s arc-angel siren weave together a glided tapestry of the Devil, booze and turning your final card on life number nine.

In truth, if you don’t like Greg Dulli, especially late-era Whigs Dulli, you probably will not like this. The level of deep red sexual self-loathing Dulli displays here makes ‘Gentlemen’ feel like a child’s birthday party. But he is all the better for it. For what is so enjoyable about this is seeing Dulli come into his own, and make a vitally valid contribution to music. Still, if you don’t want to take an intense, scary journey into the pitch-black soul of one fucked-up rocker, then there is nothing to see here. But if you want to experience the real life twists and turns that make a complicated person become flesh and blood before your eyes, look no further because redemption has come. And it’s beautiful.

Original Post

Apparently nothing is definite in the world of The Twilight Singers, and the band will continue to exist as an ever-changing group of musicians that will come together to play out the whims and dramas of Greg Dulli, as and whenever is necessary. Well, let’s all give thanks, because as much as I loved the Afghan Whigs and still feel a slight twinge of excitement when I hear that he still exists and is making music, the debut release by The Twilight Singers left a lot to be desired. It was one of those albums which you never want to say was bad, but as much as you try to like it, it is never memorable. Sure, it was nice enough in parts, but when you are used to dealing with the Afghan Whigs, it’s difficult to let go of your expectations of greatness. The one saving grace for Twilight As Played by the Twilight Singers was knowing that it was recorded as a semi-self-indulgent side project before the Whigs died rather than as a replacement.

There is no such safety net for Blackberry Belle to land on, however, and even though it is still quite a low-key release, those who still share affection for the music of Dulli will be hoping for something special. Whether the album can live up to that weight of pressure is going to take more than a few listens to find an answer. The good news is that the early signals are pointing to something positive.

In essence, Blackberry Belle is the natural progression onwards from the final Afghan Whigs release 1965. It’s noticeably subdued compared to a classic like Black Love, but this isn’t an issue as such. What makes this album a relevant and exciting experience in parts is knowing that it can and does burst to life whenever you least expect it. There’s nothing quite like that sensation when a song reaches a chorus and there is such a mammoth dynamic lift that has the guitars ringing out in harmony, horns blowing, and Dulli picks up the volume and lets out a wail rather than a whisper such as you find on ‘Decatur St.’. That’s where the real passion lies, and with a secret weapon like that waiting to be unleashed on you, it’s difficult to have any counter argument. It was the lack of this weapon which caused such disappointment in the original experiment, so it’s wonderful news that it has been restored.

From the softness of ‘Follow You Down’ to the heavier parts of ‘The Killer’, there are some sparkling ingredients holding the story together. The pianos, layered guitars, female backing vocals, and blasts of horns all combine to act like a greeting from a long lost friend. A welcome meeting it may well be, but it remains too early to discover whether the only thing we have in common is the past, or if this is a whole new love affair about to blossom. All that I am sure of for now is that this collection is at least capable of sitting proudly on the shelf alongside the Afghan Whigs’ back catalogue, and that I am just grateful the fire still burns deep in the belly of Dulli.