When I write about the Afghan Whigs, the music almost comes second. Of course, it’s a huge reason—the reason—I got into them in the first place, but they gave me something bigger than songs. They fostered a time, place, and energy that I’ll carry with me forever.

Like the Afghan Whigs, I was (and still am) a Midwestern misfit from Ohio, bumbling through the ’90s against a backdrop of normies and capitalism. They spoke to me then, just as they did to weirdos everywhere. Long before it was “cool,” they were singing about social justice and taboo topics with a rawness that felt honest and necessary. Those values stuck with me. So when I saw they were coming to San Francisco for their 40th anniversary tour, I knew I had to be there.

I got to the venue just as Mercury Rev was wrapping up their set, and I wished I’d arrived earlier. Orchestral and otherworldly sounds filled the room, and catching only the end was enough to make me want more.

Then the Afghan Whigs took the stage, and the room shifted completely.

The setlist itself felt like a love letter to the Whigs’ 40-year career, pulling heavily from Gentlemen and Black Love while also giving a healthy nod to reunion-era material like Do to the Beast, In Spades, and How Do You Burn?. As someone who came mostly for their prime 1993–1996 material, it was a reminder of the band’s longevity—how seamlessly the newer songs were woven into the older ones.

The first rule of an Afghan Whigs show is simple: don’t have your phone out. Frontman Greg Dulli notoriously hates it, and early in the set he called out a woman in the front row for being the only lit-up face in the crowd. At first, I recoiled in secondhand embarrassment. But the more I thought about it, the more grateful I was that he said something.

So often now, I watch live music through someone else’s screen-I’ve kind of just accepted it as just part of the modern concert experience. But standing there, with the Fillmore dark except for the glow of the stage, I was transported back to the old days—the kind of immersive, fully present experience the Afghan Whigs have always been so good at creating. I snapped a few photos for the review, then put my phone away and let myself sink fully into the moment.