by Ramon Lobato

When the Afghan Whigs' third LP "Gentlemen" quietly imploded onto alternative charts mid-way through 1993, the time was just right. With the hairline cracks starting to appear in the grunge cesspit, the band had just left Subpop and signed with major US label Elektra. These were the darkest hours of Whigs frontman Greg Dulli, and their end product was a 12 track record of epic artistic vision and mindblowing intensity, the fruit born of the personal crises of Dulli and the band's collective guilt for having betrayed a movement to which they'd never belonged.

Perhaps it was just the circumstances, but "Gentlemen" blasted open a side of the band that had only been hinted at on their first two Subpop albums. And it blew the lid off the Whigs melting pot: even today, six years on, Dulli cannot bring himself to play live most tracks from the album.

If it isn't already obvious, objectivity went right out the window when I got John Curley on the phone from his home in Cincinatti, Ohio, to talk about the Whigs' "1965" album. I love this band unreservedly, and firmly believe that the darker they get, the better they sound. Unfortunately, says Curley, this attitude is what almost put the band out of action.

'There were a lot of people who were disappointed we didn't do a "Black Love: Part Three" or a "Gentlemen: Part Two", Curley remarks. After the commercial failure of "Black Love" (their 'most honest' record yet), the band came to a resolution: to 'get happy -- either to quit or make music that's celebratory'.

Curley continues, 'Greg was saying, "I'm feeling better, so I'm writing honestly about feeling better. There's people who want me to feel bad just so they can hear me singing sad songs. I would rather just not make music. Feeling good -- you should put that above everything else.'

Initially, "1965" seems like your typical Whigs record, laden with minor-chord gloom, luscious, heavy instrumentation and perfectly honed songcraft. Go a few listens deeper, however, and you'll discover a new side to the band, a subtle life-affirming positivity which has forsaken mantras of self-loathing for, as Curley says, 'simple songs about lust and attraction'. After all, 1965 was the year of Dulli's birth, a time of space exploration, civil rights, Motown fever and unabashed optimism. "1965" is less the youthful vivacity of the Whigs circa 1990's "Up In It", and more the outlook of a group of men who have seen the other side and decided sanity is better.

'I think to a certain degree our outlooks all overlap,' says Curley. 'That makes a difference. To sound like we do and to make the kind of music that we make -- it's about being there, seeing what happens, trusting Greg to take us there.'

Where Greg Dulli did in fact take the band was to his favourite hangout, New Orleans, for the six months of writing and recording that resulted in "1965". 'I think Greg has a personal, spiritual connection with New Orleans that I don't think I need,' says Curley. 'I don't think I could live there for an extended period of time. I need more structure in my life. There's no rules, no boundaries. Unless you've got a pretty fair amount of self-control you end up sliding away. You're gone.

'That's the difference between me and Greg. I'm happy walking up to the line and looking at it. Greg's got to cross it before he can be happy. For me it's enough knowing that the line is there, but Greg's got to take a step over it, see what it's like on the other side. I've held him back a couple of times and he's brought me across a couple of times, so you know, it all works out.'

While the stories of Greg's tour antics are legend (he was once chased down a corridor by Meatloaf after stealing the rocker's rider, and got nicely KO'd at a US club late last year), John insists that Greg is not too dominating to deal with. 'It's sort of like a democracy with a strong president -- everybody gets heard, but ultimately Greg's the producer and he's going to have the final decision. Musically, creatively, I agree with most of the stuff that he's doing anyway,' says Curley. 'Not being a songwriter myself, there's not a lot of opportunities for conflict like that. I'm glad we have someone who has a pretty strong vision and is interested in making that happen. It usually works out for everybody. I really trust him, so I have no problem with it.'

The decadent booze-drenched lifestyle of Orleans appealed to Greg for obvious reasons, yet the city's influence is not as overtly present on "1965" as you'd expect. As with all things Whig, it's subtle, sublime and always below the surface: the angry sax meandering on "John The Baptist", or the samples of a Southern jubilation buried under the musical fabric of "Crazy" (featuring the vocal talents of that big star himself, Alex Chilton). Recorded with the help of the Royal Orleans Revue, and the amazing tonsillic talents of diva Susan Marshall, "1965" is perhaps the most essentially sexual LP the band have ever released -- and about as far removed from insanity, self doubt and obsession as Dulli will ever get.

Take the opening track, "Something Hot". Kicking off with an incendiary guitar riff, this little rocker sounds at first like a vintage proto-Grunge Whig-out. But listen closer and you'll find a curious, joyous quality lurking beneath it all: 'I wanna feel good', Dulli croons in the song's chorus.

'Musically, "1965" is a little dark,' says Curley, 'but not by our standards. Lyrically it's not dark at all.'

"1965" might not be as dark as "Gentlemen" or "Black Love", but it sure is as perverse. Having parted ways none too amicably with former label Elektra, the Whigs soon after signed to Columbia, with whom they were to release "1965" at the end of last year. And while the band won't (try can't) admit to it, track 9 on "1965", "Neglekted", pretty much sums up their feelings towards Elektra exec Sylvia Rhone. 'I knew a girl, extraordinary / Suggested something, unsanitary ... ' So are we to draw the obvious conclusions from the track's deliberate mis-spelling (the label is often called 'Neglektra'), and the band's tendency to refer to the song as "Sylvia" on set lists?

'Well you've kinda put me on the spot,' Curley chuckles diplomatically. 'All I'll say is, compare the spelling of the song with the record company. I don't think you need me to say it out loud.'

With over a decade of consistently excellent releases, minimal line-up changes and widespread critical acclaim (yet modest sales), what do these criminally underrated bunch of middle-aged perverts have to look back on? 'In a certain way, I'm proud of all of it,' Curley replies. 'The further you're removed from your work, the more objective you can be about its place in the overall scheme of things. I would say, from up here, "Retarded" was probably a pretty good example of something five years ahead of its time. Parts of "Congregation", like "Turn On The Water", we've always been very proud of.'

So the band have never thought of calling it quits? 'Well sure, you think about that from time to time, some times more than others. It's not what I'm thinking right now.' When stuff goes really shitty, I think it's a natural reaction to think about that. At the same time, you don't want to quit because things are too hard. It's not a very romantic way to go out. At the same time, you don't want to quit when things are going really good.' Curley concludes, chuckling at the irony of what he's just said: 'So once you're in, you're in. There's no escape.'

"1965" is on Columbia through Sony.