Album Review

Four decades into their career, The Afghan Whigs have long since established that they operate according to their own rules. Their combination of bruising alternative rock, soul, R&B and Greg Dulli's darkly cinematic songwriting has always separated them from the bands they were originally grouped alongside. On Soft Control, that identity remains firmly intact.

The album opens with Jungle Roux, immediately settling into the kind of shadowy groove that has become one of the band's trademarks. Rather than attempting to recreate the sound of Gentlemen or Black Love, the Whigs continue building on the richer and more atmospheric sound of their post-reunion records. There is still plenty of guitar muscle here, but the record is just as interested in texture, space and mood.

Dulli remains the center of everything. His voice has accumulated more wear over the years, but that only adds character to these songs. He sounds especially effective when the music pulls back and gives him room to inhabit the darker corners of the material. Duvateen and The Deepest Part of the Darkest Shadow show how naturally the band can move between tension, melancholy and release.

The Afghan Whigs recorded material for the album in Joshua Tree, New Orleans, East Hollywood and Cincinnati, ultimately narrowing more than twenty songs down to the ten heard here. That variety of locations seems appropriate for a record that can feel restless even during its quieter moments. The songs frequently shift between heavy guitars, soul-inflected rhythms and late-night atmosphere without ever losing the band's identity.

The strongest moments on Soft Control demonstrate why The Afghan Whigs remain such a distinctive band. Dulli has become less interested in the anger that powered some of his earliest work and more interested in what remains after that anger burns away: memory, mortality, desire and the strange process of getting older without completely surrendering the person you once were.

Not every song carries the same weight, and the record occasionally feels more controlled than dangerous. For listeners who prefer the volatile intensity of the Whigs' 1990s records, that restraint may make Soft Control feel slightly removed. But there is still an unmistakable confidence running through the album.

Soft Control isn't The Afghan Whigs trying to prove they can still sound like the band that made Gentlemen. It is the sound of a band comfortable with what it has become. There are flashes of the menace and soul that defined their greatest records, but they now arrive alongside reflection and maturity. It may not rank with their absolute best work, but it is another compelling chapter from a band that has never sounded particularly interested in taking the easy way out.