"Any love is good love," cracks Greg
Dulli, leaning back in the one funky
cafe open on this snowy Cincinnati
Sunday, letting his big face fill
up with a mouse-eating grin. Dulli's got a lot of
torn in him; he has cat eyes, almost orange in
a certain light, the type that focus better in the
dark. And there's that smile, the first step in
a seduction that's made the Afghan Whigs'
30-year-old leader the kind of dangerous
heartthrob who gets bras and panties thrown
at him while his band churns through tales
of romance gone down a gravel road."I stick with the classics," hedges Dulli, when probe a little about the noirish scenarios that dominate his songs. "Lying, betrayal, lust, hate, decay." Across from him sits Whigs bassist John Curley, 30, a sweetie himself, but more a brother than a crush. As we talk about the Whigs' fourth album, Black Love, it becomes clear that none of us can quite figure Dulli's metamorphosis from ordinary child with glasses, braces, and allergies into grunge's number one lover man.
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