One of the best albums you've never heard.

For a band that spent the first couple years of major label backing pissing off the label execs to protect their integrity, peddling a more than adequate product would have been a necessity.  After the success of "Gentleman", and the subsequent label baiting by Cincinnati's Afghan Whigs that resulted in less than stellar promotional efforts from Elektra records, a strong follow up would no doubt be on the horizon.  In the case of "Black Love", the Afghan Whigs appeared to have just that. 

Continuing the cinematic tone set on "Gentlemen" (replete with a 'shot on location' credit in the production notes), "Black Love" unfolds like a film noir murder ballad in 11 parts.  Which really isn't surprising considering Greg Dulli, the front man/primary songwriter/producer of the Whigs' output, explored the idea of producing a film noir movie. 

"Black Love" was recorded through August and September of 1995 - a little over a year after the nation watched cinema verite play out before it in the form of a low-speed chase involving LAPD cruisers and a white, Ford Bronco.  This being the case, it's too easy to picture "Black Love" as a reaction to the O.J. Simpson case, since murder, infidelity,  and jilted lovers populate the Afghan Whigs' sexually charged landscape as plentifully as photos of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ron Goldman populated American television screens in the fall of 1995.  And perhaps Dulli did take some inspiration from the cultural zeitgeist, but I imagine that "Black Love" is an attempt to further the Whigs' musico-sexual tension, mining the well for lust and anger, and the occasional piece of quasi-sincerity. 

The tone for the record is set with the sprawling and cinematic "Crime Scene Part One".  You nearly hear the credits crawl up the mental screen, and see the fade in as ending sound collage gives way to the beginning of the next track, "My Enemy".  Opening up with an accusation, and featuring impassioned shouting from Dulli, "My Enemy" is one of the most aggressive, and certainly the most relentless track on the record, as Dulli sings "so get your ass out from behind my back".  Dulli's character isn't fucking around, and it's your life if you decide to test him - "I told you once, and I told you all, and I told it like it was". 

"Double Day" is the flashback, where the narrator explains that he "came home late, drunk with love, and other things".  Taking the aggression down a few notches, the song weaves its way around the arpeggiated guitar riff, until the shouted chorus.

It's on "Blame, Etc." where they funk it up a bit, and give us some of the sexy, slinky grooves that are the Whigs' stock-in-trade.  Listen close for the insistently bouncy clavinet, and the seventies soul percussion.  Here is Dulli showing some of his strongest influences, while making sure you know that it's him, and not some mere copycat pushing these grooves.  Of course, it's just the foreplay for the steamy, sweating love making of "Step Into the Light". 

During the post-coital cool-down, we get hit by the dark, yet bouncy, "Going to Town".  More than just a bridge between the quiet "Step Into the Light" and "Honky's Ladder", "Going to Town" is a declaration of intent for wrongdoing that can only be resolved when Dulli sings "Got you where I want you, motherfucker, I got five up on your dime" in "Honky's Ladder".  Here's the climax, and ultimate confrontation between Dulli's narrator and antagonist.  With gun pressed firmly to the head of the antagonist, Dulli monologues to inform the guy that he will not survive the next 4 minutes.  Punctuated by McCollum's slide guitar, however, the song takes on an emotional atmosphere of nervous energy, broken only by the soaring choruses.  The fadeout of the song robs us of any finality for the situation though, as "Night By Candlelight" bubbles to the surface. 

"Night By Candlelight" with its orchestration and tympani maybe the most indulgent track on the record, but this quality helps to preserve the cinematic feel of the record by providing the often inflated-sounding scores present in your standard murder mystery flick. 

The jarring changes of "Bulletproof", which fluctuates between pomp-rock swagger and soul-inflected Tamla beats foreshadows the coming denouement - especially where the piano track sounds like it's starting to unravel (check just after the 6 minute mark).  "Summer's Kiss" continues the unraveling by beginning with seemingly incongruous riffs, resolving to a frayed rhythm figured barely held together by a refrigerator-falling-down-an-elevator-shaft drum beat.  Rising above the tight-but-loose performance is an almost optimistic vocal from Dulli.  Did the narrator get away with it, and he takes his best girl off to ride into the sunset?  It's implied that this could be the case by a reprise of the train sounds the open the record as "summer's Kiss" flows into "Faded".

"Faded" sounds exactly like the kind of audio montage you get when the screen fades to black, and the screen reads "Cast: in order of appearance" while Dulli pleads with the girl, asking if she believes in him.  The piano driven seduction is augmented by McCollum's wah-drenched licks as Dulli delivered what may be his most impassioned vocal on the album.  Here's a band saving the best for last - lush background vocals, stacks of melodies, loads of breathing room, with waves of intensity.  With a little more then 2 minutes remaining, McCollum's wah-wah guitar part becomes a doubled slide guitar lick.  When the wave crests, it breaks into a tinkling piano figure over the sound of an arriving train.  Fade to black, get out of your seat, throw your popcorn cup away, leave the theatre, and get the Blu-Ray on release date, etc...

For all the twists and turns Dulli takes in the tone of his lyrics, he delineates clear characters that suggest a plot, but don't quite confirm that the plot is there.  Let's face it, "Black Love" is damn near a concept record, missing only a clear-cut narrative to tie everything together.  Perhaps what makes this album so successful is the fact that the story is only suggested, allowing you to dig into the song on your own, and see the images the way you feel them, rather than having to follow a heavy handed script with highlighted plot points.  Some of the better near-concept albums succeed when the songwriter leaves enough room in the songs for the listener to find their own place in the piece.  It's the difference between an album like the Roger Waters' "Radio KAOS", where Waters provides a libretto, and an album like Pink Floyd's "Animals", where a concept is implied, but no narrative crystallized (beyond the obvious reference to Orwell).

But if you put all that aside, this is just a single disc with 11 damn good songs.  Any song from "Black Love" can stand on its own, but one cannot deny the power of experiencing them all in sequence.  Or, more simply, to paraphrase a colleague of mine, this album is so good that it nearly renders the rest of their catalogue obsolete.  And that's really what happened with the 'Whigs, since they only managed to follow the album up with the uneven (yet still enjoyable) "1965", before disbanding.  Greg Dulli has since gone on to make a new name for himself with the Twilight Singers, and the Gutter Twins with gravel throated Mark Lanegan, reuniting with his former partners to record a couple tracks for a best-of comp (and let's acknowledge how admirable it is that they did not reform for a bloated reunion tour - it's never the same the second time around). 

So get your hands on this one, and give a listen in a dimly lit room, perhaps while burning a stick of incense in the variety of the album's namesake, and let yourself be transported through what might be the Afghan Whigs' darkest, yet most delightful, hour.

Farewell Citizens.