Preview: The Afghan Whigs_lowres

The Afghan Whigs

Greg Dulli lives in New Orleans and is an all-around musical free radical, but there are other reasons to love the Gutter Twin, Twilight Singer and once-and-future Afghan Whig. For one, he nearly got into a fistfight with The Black Crowes' Chris Robinson after slighting Gen. William Tecumseh Sherman. (Dulli's stared-down admonition, as told to Seattle's The Rocket in 1998: "Don't make me shake your moneymaker. 'Cause I will. You haven't been reading my press clippings, have you? I deal with motherf—ers like you.") Though the press was mostly kind, his Whigs were all but doffed by then, the band's six-album, 10-year iteration having run, for all its leery left turns, a relatively standard course: from unkempt arrival (Sub Pop grunge footnote Up In It) to congealing major-label reveal (Elektra exhibitionist Gentlemen, a Lothario prison that still astounds 20 years later for its frankly raging sexuality and insatiable, overarching maleness) to high-road getaway (ends-tying Columbia bow 1965). "I'm not the man my actions would suggest," Dulli, fingers crossed, sang on "Debonair," and then went about proving it, putting the self-branded dick-for-brains to bed and suiting up as a Foo Fighter ("X-Static"), Backbeatle ("Good Golly Miss Molly"), Gutter Twin (with Mark Lanegan), Twilight Singer (with everyone else) and more-than-occasional R&B cover artist (Mary J. Blige in 2004, Frank Ocean in 2012). Born on Halloween in 1986, the band that said it was never ever getting back together had a cadaveric spasm in 2006 (two new tracks for Unbreakable: A Retrospective 1990-2006) before fully Frankensteining for a series of high-profile nocturnes this summer. Hide the women and hirsute Southern rockers. Wussy opens. Tickets $35. — Noah Bonaparte Pais