If Satan was a rock star, he’d undoubtedly have the singing voice of Mark Lanegan. The former Screaming Tree is in Dublin tonight with his latest side-project, The Gutter Twins; and though their name may imply an intriguing circus sideshow act, or perhaps a tacky plastic punk band, this is a group steeped in quality and experience. The fact that the long-touted collaborative effort of alt-rock journeyman Lanegan and former Afghan Whigs foreman Greg Dulli has nicely filled the Ambassador tonight, speaks volumes. With just one shared album under their belt, it’s presumably the duo’s respective legacies as alternative cult heroes that have drawn the crowd – an interesting mix of ponytailed, goateed twentysomethings with devil-horns at the ready, and middle-aged chinstrokers with cameraphones in equal preparation – to their Irish debut.
These are mostly songs wrung from a cloth sopping with misery, trauma and darkness – but it’s not quite as desolate as that sounds. In fact, the bulk of grunge-tinged debut Saturnalia is executed in a brisk and polished fashion; a spattering of Twilight Singers (Dulli’s current 9-5) tracks also get an airing tonight, but it’s the more prolific Lanegan that the majority of the crowd have their collective gaze fixed upon. A rendering of his solo number ‘Methamphetamine Blues’ incites an almost manic reaction from some, but the weary-looking rasper – uncharacteristically devoid of his guitar this side-project ’round – remains tacitly hunched over the mic stand he grips tightly, leaving his co-singing cohort (backed by a five-strong band) on crowd-rousing, guitar and keyboard duties.
There’s no real need to encourage the high-spirited congregation, though; this rollicking, murky rock – the heavier end of which is more enthusiastically received – goes down a treat for the most part, with a five-song-strong encore providing further, if slightly unnecessary, aural gratification. Overall, though, it’s a satisfying performance from The Gutter Twins – a band who are indubitably looking at the stars, but only to bitterly curse them for their impenetrable, unwavering luminescence.