The Afghan Whigs

Thursday 24 September 2026

Shepherd's Bush Empire, London

Here we are, at the gorgeous old lump of Arts & Crafts that is the Shepherd's Bush Empire. It is something of a double celebration, with The Afghan Whigs touring behind their latest album, Soft Control (record number 10) - and forty years in the business (although Greg Dulli does admit they split up for more than ten of those)!

This is a bit of a weird one for me too. I am familiar with bits and pieces of their work, but not enough to be considered a 'fan', or even be able to put names to any songs. But more on this later...

Ed Harcourt

We are treated to an opening set by English troubadour (or for balance, as the latest gig team member, Son of Steve, would say - "an absolute disgrace" - youth, eh?).

Harcourt is someone I am familiar with in name only, but for half an hour, he dominates the stage, even without a backing band. Pivoting between piano and guitar, his voice resonates across an already packed hall, through songs I don't know, yet which I find quite moving. Confusingly, he is a lefty with at least one right-handed guitar played upside down (not so uncommon) - but more strange is that all his guitars (left and right) are strung upside down, with an open tuning (thanks for the technical insight Steve).

In what became one of the treats of my night, towards the end of the set, he brings on Rick G. Nelson from the Whigs to play some violin on a cover of Mark Lanegan's One Way Street. He matches Lanegan's deep, dark, whiskey soaked growl, and for a moment if you close your eyes you might think he was actually in the room (so makes up a little for the sadness that I will never get to see the real Lanegan).

The Afghan Whigs

So, as mentioned, it's a virgin Afghan Whigs experience for me and for Son of Steve, but it's not Steve's first rodeo, and amongst the rest of our group, Steve's brother apparently was once part of The Congregation; a group of die-hard Whigs fans whose camaraderie was based solely on seeing them live whenever they came to the UK (and named after the band's third record).

Let's talk about the sound. We are at the centre of the floor, about ten metres back from the stage, and the sound is brutal! The mix is not great, more of a wash of violent fuzz than anything too refined, but then possibly not surprising when you have a three guitar attack, each with their distortion turned up to 11.

It doesn't matter, because they rock. I mean, really rock - the loudness somehow doesn't overwhelm, it merely engulfs and lifts you up (and occasionally judders your internal organs around). That I don't really know the songs, just a few familiar tunes and odd fragments of lyric every now and again, doesn't matter. I am enjoying watching the rapture of other true fans for a change, seeing people's eyes close in recognition of something meaningful to them, or just pogoing up and down in sheer rapturous joy (see another of our party, Duncan, for this in particular - last seen bouncing away from us at high velocity).

There are no real theatrics, beyond the wide brimmed hat sported by lead guitarist Christopher Thorn (ex Blind Melon). John Curley, one of two remaining original members, stands rigid, driving his pummeling bass lines, almost impassive, with just the odd suggestion of a grin crossing his face. Main man, Greg Dulli, saunters around - he owns this stage, he doesn't need to show off. His voice retains the distinctive throaty roar, seemingly not so undiminished by forty years of rock.

Bryan Lee Brown is from the drumming school of no restraint; he thunders around his kit - after four songs he leans forward to rest on his snare, as if he's already gone ten rounds with a middleweight champion.

There are five tracks from Soft Control and a fair smattering from across the other nine albums and 39 years, especially fan favourites from Congregation, Gentlemen, Black Love and 1965. There are at least eight or nine songs, like What Jail Is Like, Debonair and My Enemy, that take the crowd up a notch, to even higher levels. There is no encore, and we get a proper old-fashioned introduce the band section (like back in the 80s and stuff); you know, where the playing dies back to a basic beat and Dulli announces where each member if from and they get to do their own burst of instrumental energy.

There is some twisted melancholic energy through Son of the South, with bits of Doors tunes thrown in. Into The Floor morphs into a slowed down take on Miles Iz Ded, and as the rest of the band build themselves into a final frenzy, Dulli quietly saunters off, leaving Thorn and Nelson to take front of stage, guitars raised... and we are done. Tellingly, my voice is not hoarse at the end (most unusual for a gig) - something I need to rectify before seeing them again.

A photo with all the lighting filters moved around, added at the behest of my son. Kinda cool!

Set List:

Parked Outside

I'm Her Slave

What Jail Is Like

House Of I

Oriole

Going To Town

Debonair

My Lover

Loose Talk

66

Somethin' Hot

Algiers

Catch A Colt

Deepest Part of the Darkest Shadow

Demon In Profile

Fountain In Fairfax

My Enemy

Son of the South (including elements of Roadhouse Blues and The End, by The Doors)

Duvateen

Summer's Kiss

Into The Floor / Miles Iz Ded