Never known for his subtlety, Twilight auteur Greg Dulli served notice on the world earlier this year when “On the Corner” started to circulate the net in advance of his new album. “All rise with me,” he crooned in his proto-punk soul tenor, “all take your place.” His message, it seemed, was clear: the Greg Dulli gospel tabernacle and choir is back in session.
Of course, most of the gospel in Dulli's work is confined to his music. Few artists have enjoyed the balance between the sacred and profane quite like he has. 2000's
Twilight as Performed by the Twilight Singers was powered by a quiet and introspective resignation unseen up to that point. 2003's
Blackberry Belle was the sound of him blacking out the windows before 2005's
Powder Burns shot them out. What does that make
Dynamite Steps? Is it a reconstruction effort? A rejuvenation? A rebirth?
Well, if Powder Burns saw Dulli starting to stir after the blackout, then Dynamite Steps finds our protagonist in a contemplative mood after a decade spent on and off the rails. Hushed codas abound here, as if confession, not conflagration, reign supreme. Dulli indulges both the angel and the devil on his shoulders. “Baby, I've come to take you under,” he sings in the opener “Last Night in Town.” Just a few lines later though, he implores, “Love, take me now.” Like most of the album that follows, the song yields longing and regret in equal measures.
Like the best of Dulli's catalog, the album is best when he's forced to turn his gaze upon himself. “Get Lucky,” with its austere piano and vocal opening, shows Dulli coming to terms with himself. The band swells into a lush arrangement as he sings “I get lucky sometimes.” Its the sound of a man shocked by the revelations of his own confession and its easily the standout moment of standout moments.
Musically, it must be said that the Twilight Singers tower. The band, as a studio entity, has long been an excuse for Dulli to make records with whoever catches his fancy. Old faces Mark Lanegan and Ani DiFranco appear to help out vocally. But more than that, its revealing (although less than surprising) that his main choice of conspirators is his touring band. They've been at this gig long enough to deliver their trademark smoky soul groove with panache and precision. They are their own genre of music: a smoky, soul infused guitar band built around the moral ambiguity of noir cinema as much as the freedom of punk rock.
In fact, the manner in which this disc seems to musically touch upon all aspects of the Twilight's recording career almost makes it the best of retrospectives- bracingly familiar and yet thrillingly new. All the hallmarks of previous albums are here: the electro-folk of
Twilight, the dark majesty of
Blackberry Belle, and the revelatory grandeur of
Powder Burns.
It would appear that we all get lucky sometimes.
