AFGHAN WHIGS: UP IN IT
ALBUM REVIEW: To most of us, Up In It is Afghan Whigs’ 1990 debut. In reality it’s their sophomore release, but their first to get proper distribution. How does it stack up in 2024?
THE AFGHAN WHIGS: UP IN IT
SUB POP
1990
If you hunt for long enough in the deepest, darkest corners of them thar interwebs, you will eventually uncover some ropey rips of Big Top Halloween, Afghan Whigs’ 1988 debut album, released on their own Ultrasuede label.
It had little - to no - distribution. Depending upon the source, either 1000 or 2000 copies were pressed by the band themselves. It remains a costly rarity, and contains primitively engaging samples of the band’s writing, the quality of which wouldn’t reach most of us until 1990, when Sub Pop, having heard the album, signed the band. First for a single - the immaculate Retarded - and then the LP, Up In It.
The closest most of us will get to their debut is three songs included as extra tracks on the CD of Up In It - Big Top Halloween itself, Sammy and In My Town, all of which make you wish their debut was easier to find in a physical form.
“After we put out Up In It we never played a song from Big Top Halloween ever again. We left it behind. In most ways we consider Up In It our first record.”
Greg Dulli: The Skinny, 2012.
The band were born in 1986, in Cincinnati, Ohio, as an evolution of Dulli’s previous group, Black Republicans. Amusingly, John Curley, bassist, named their new endeavour The Afghan Whigs as a play on Dulli’s old band name.
When Jonathan Poneman heard their debut, The Whigs soon became the second band to sign to Sub Pop from outside the Pacific North West.
The first was Denver’s The Fluid. Watch this space for more about them soon.
Retarded was recorded in 1989 and released in 1990. It was something of an instant ‘hit’ on college radio, which gave Sub Pop the confidence to sign the band for a follow up album.
Afghan Whigs would develop their much-discussed Motown and Soul influences more apparently on future records - the direction of travel became clear with 1992’s fantastic Congregation and Uptown Avondale EP. But Up In It displays more of the youthful exuberance of their punk rock inspiration; every song has a distorted riff that get tangled in your ear canals and has the energy and raw power that became a trademark for Sub Pop releases of the time.
To my ears, it’s wall-to-wall bangers, unmuddied by depth and maturity. Just a great, full-on, alt.punk rock record.
It’s exciting to think that so many bands beyond the suburbs of Seattle itself were being inspired by the same things and coming up with their own twist on a heavy garage punk/rock/metal theme.
I wonder how many brilliant bands of that era were creating equally magical tunes but never received the attention they deserved, and so got lost to the mists of time? There must be hundreds of albums-worth of undiscovered grungey brilliance that have just been scattered to the wind like so many dandelion seeds.
It would make for a good Pebbles/Nuggets-style series of comps.
So - Up In It: nine tracks across 30 minutes. It’s a clear and direct opening gambit - and one of the rare examples you’ll find of me citing CD envy. Not because of the Big Top Halloween additional tracks already mentioned, but for one contemporary song that wasn’t included on the vinyl, as it had been used already as a B-Side for Retarded: Hey Cuz.
It’s a prime cut from this period and the LP of Up In It would have only benefited from its inclusion. It was always a key song in their live set - and presumably still is, if they ever reflect back to those days now, which I doubt they do.
It became a classic and it’s a shame it’s not on the LP.
That aside, let’s drop the needle…
The awkward, inverted chords of the Retarded intro kick the LP off in style to create the bedding for Dulli’s lyrics that seem to deal with the concept of street drugs, cold turkey and a junky lifestyle. But never ever has heroin chic sounded so filthy, desolate and - well - cool.
It’s certainly uncool to say so, but Retarded, for all its grim composure, somehow makes nodding out sound aspirational.
There are a couple of differentiating factors that Afghan Whigs completely own. The first is Dulli’s confident lyricism; at once seedy, sexy and oozing swagger, whether the subject matter demands it or not. The second is McCollum’s guitar playing, that has a funkiness to it that doesn’t sound funky; wah-driven solos, odd tonal choices… his artistic decision-making imbues the band’s sound with a depth and credibility that soars above the basic barre-chord Stooges riffing of many of their contemporaries.
Both aspects of the songwriting are present and correct in Retarded. It’s no surprise that it did a great job of launching their career on Sub Pop.
The sleeve for the single was perfect, too - see above.
McCollum’s funky-not-funky guitar mastery smacks you in the chops on second song, White Trash Party. It’s a take on the Stooges unlike anything other bands were doing. If Mudhoney were looking at I Wanna Be Your Dog as their jumping off point, the Whigs took the honking wah-drenched slink of Funhouse as theirs.
A deeper cut.
There’s a predatory relish to the lyrics of White Trash Party that is half disgust and half fascination. There’s a sense that Dulli was no stranger to trailer park inebriation and the debauched damage done there. His breathless, screeching tone only adds conviction to the narrative.
And then a short squeal of feedback, a crack of a snare, and Hated launches; sluggish, grinding, self-loathing and sinister. It’s a highlight of the album and was a much-quoted gem between my friends and I at the time:
“I smoke a pack a day
I hit the pipe sometimes
And drink my pay, screw my friends
Understand my need to offend…”
It gets nasty, drunken and abusive. It paints a horrific picture of domesticity that none of us ever want to be a part of, but it does it brilliantly. That winding, circular main riff though… addictive doesn’t begin to describe it.
The song just rolls along in its own nonchalant, un-PC, confessional way, forever seeming to wring its way down an aural plughole. In its own piss-soaked mattress and nicotine-stained ceiling existence, it’s a moment of true songwriting genius. Its escalation into chaos towards the crescendo at the end emphasises how out of control the scenario being played out has become.
And it fades to silence before launching into the snare roll and dervish riffing of Southpaw. Probably the most forgettable track on the album, which is an accurate disservice, because whenever I hear the chorus it elevates me. John Curley’s bass is more pronounced and melodic throughout than it is elsewhere on the album. The song’s saved by the re-occurence of the chord driven riff and snare roll intro as an outro, which leaves you on a high.
Before the incendiary sub-two minute punk rock blast of Amphetamines And Coffee drives us confidently to the end of Side One.
It never fails to raise adrenaline:
“Amphetamines and coffee
It almost makes you gag
Too many big decisions
No more time to play…”
Mysteriously missing from digital versions of Up In It is Side Two opener Now We Can Begin.
I can only surmise that its absence is something to do with it being written by ex-drummer Steve Earle and thereby some political complications have occurred over time. Rumour has it that Greg Dulli was unhappy with the vocals… but it’s a great song.
It’s raw as fuck and has a TAD-esque guitar riff that wouldn’t sound out of place on God’s Balls:
Next up is You My Flower. It’s a blissful, laid-back track that is the keenest indication of the way their music would evolve into the next album, Congregation. It plays with light and shade, with different riffs coming up and down throughout the mix. It’s got a slightly psychedelic feeling to it and the pacing elegantly shows off that Dark Soul approach to the songwriting that would be coming soon, from just around the corner.
Son of the South follows:
“…there are some songs on (Up In It) that are very un-Sub Pop, like Son of the South, for instance, was pure Southern Rock. That freaked some people out a little bit. I look back on that record and there are a few songs that I really still like.”
Greg Dulli: The Skinny, 2012.
It’s a slow, bluesy descent with a winding riff playing on one hand discordantly against the other, before breaking into a swing that you can’t help but nod your head to.
Lyrically, it’s another beautiful essay in a penniless narcotic tragedy and hopelessness:
“Jane had a bottle of pills
She kept beside her bed
She took a couple when the sky came falling down
"What do you see in me?"
She used to say out loud
”I see myself in a year
If I'm still around…
What happened to your wrists?
Do you need some help?
I can't be checking on you like this all the time…”
The album closes with the sorrowful epic-in-four-minutes, I Know Your Little Secret.
It’s worth its weight in gold, if only for the guitar drones that whine and bend throughout the verses, adding tension and atmosphere in equal measure. The mid-point solo slurs its way into a loping movement that pushes into a four to the floor refrain and an absolutely elemental guitar solo through to the end.
It’s the album’s opus and a wonderful way to wrap up the LP.
Jack Endino’s production work is, as ever, exemplary, if you’re looking for grit, grime and muddy glory. In many ways, Up In It is the archetypal Sub Pop album. The riffs, the production, the attitude, the packaging.
My copy is an original version, bought at the time. It’s a typical no-frills production and presentation. Black and white photography across the front and back with one colour - fluorescent orange - as a highlight for titles and the (now creased and dog-eared) back cover art.
The pressing still sounds great nearly thirty five years later.
The Afghan Whigs would go on to greater commercial success, but for me, Up In It is their best, most profound and exciting release.
1992’s superb Congregation would add a sensitive musicality to the mix and Dulli’s lyrics would really begin to come into their own. 1993’s Gentlemen would show what the band could really do in terms of losing the shackles of the grunge label, and they would begin to infiltrate the charts with singles like Debonair and What Jail Is Like.
After that though, I started to lose interest; the Dark Soul became more pronounced as they matured through Black Love and 1965.
They split in 2001 and have released three reformation LPs since 2014, but none of them have really provided me with the same kick that their earlier work does.
It’s always Up In It that I go back to.
Its energy, intent and wide-eyed excitement has never been beaten.
Ave, Ultras!
Hahaha - so true - that trail of broken hearts is not one I’d want to go anywhere near! 😂
Great article…the Afghan Whigs are superb