Taking to the stage awash in a sea of red light, there's a disconcerting look firing up Greg Dulli's eyes. He looks like a wolf in the wild as he surveils the audience and it's hard to tell exactly what's fueling this look of menace. Is this Dulli the killer of Blackberry Belle or the penitant from Powder Burns? Maybe he's the doomed narrator whispering hushed confessions from 2000's Twilight as Played by...
Actually, scratch that.
The band, dressed to the black nines like some sort of Johnny Cash army, hardly looks like they're here to whisper any damned thing to any damned person. They prove as much when they open with the new album's "Last Night in Town." The song starts Dynamite Steps with a haunted piano refrain over which Dulli makes his latest exhortations to the rock and roll devil. But here, live and in person, the band plugs in and hits a full throttle from the get go. Powered by the jet fuel that is the rhythm section, this band isn't interested in haunting anyone. Instead, they rip open, reimagine and reinvent their catalog with a heady brew of muscular rock that's amphetamined with punk but tapered with soul.
Unlike the desparately introspective band that toured behind 2006's Powder Burns, this group wastes little time romancing the audience. The 2006 tour seemd like a high stakes excorcism in which Dulli played like his life and soul were on the line. But these Twilights play with the cocksure swagger of Steve McQueen behind the wheel: their playing is tight, focused and unsafe at all speeds but thrilling nonetheless. This is a brilliant band and they play like they know it.
Of course, this heady self awareness should hardly be shocking as it's been a hallmark of Greg Dulli's career. As the main instigator (singer/songwriter/producer) of the Afghan Whigs and now the Twilight Singers, he projected himself as the last of the great rock soulmen- a true alt rock lothario. No longer that svelte or young, the middle age spread of his frame now does little to diminish that power though. He, and his band by extension, play with the ferocity and precision of boxers past their prime but still primed to dangerous capability. Even the music acknowledges this when they open the smoky "Bonnie Brae." Easily one of the most trancendant songs of their catalog, they rope-a-dope it with a sad and sweet violin opening before the rest of the band kicks in with an almost martial explosiveness.
That volatility and the band's ability to control it through an entire set revealed a new and heretofore unseen identity of the Twilight Singers to me: survivors. Older and possibly wiser, they played with the precision and ferocity to let us know that still, even now, to this day, they can still fuck us up. And the audience still begged for more.
This weekend marks the end of the Twilight Singer's tour in San Francisco as they play 2003's Blackberry Belle with Mark Lanegan and Petra Haden in tow. I really wish I were there. Instead, I decided to publish this long overdue review from May. Special thanks to Travis Lewis who did a little post work on the photos.
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