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Dinosaur ( 1985 )
Forget the Swan / Cats in a Bowl / The Leper / Does It Float / Pointless / Repulsion / Gargoyle / Severed Lips / Mountain Man / Quest / Bulbs of Passion Pretty rare, this album, and often neglected, too. In fact, lots of people still seem to think the band started off with their seminal SST-albums (You’re Living All Over Me (1987) and Bug (1988)), released in the same year as Sonic Youth’s most groundbreaking albums. The band has quite some in common with the NYC arties, the experimentation with distortion, feedback and dissonance, for instance, but on the other hand, Dinosaur Jr.’s references were much broader: their sound reminded of Neil Young (who by consequence earned the ‘Dinosaur Sr.’-tag), of the fuzz-rock of The Stooges, of early 80’s new wave (the gloomier British kind), and – on this album at least – of their own punk past. Their overall sound is certainly not your average rock sound (but that seems to be the case with all these seminal 80’s guitar bands), as introvert passages are often disrupted by shards of feedback, and both the vocalists are quite ‘limited’, especially Mascis, with his lazy out of tune-delivery and whining sound. But that’s exactly what made ‘em even stand out more from the pack, and it’s so distinctive and ‘ugly’ in a way, that I can’t really point out other vocalists who were obviously influenced by him, or took it as far. In a way, it’s also cool to see that the guy had basically shaped his own style before he was even twenty, as he’d follow the same path, if in a more-streamlined and ‘inoffensive’ way, on later efforts. |
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| It’s not easy though, to come up with good songs from this album. The opening track, “Forget the Swan,” is one for sure: sung by Barlow (who sounds very similar to his employer), it seems to walk the line between the folk-rock of Neil Young, and the early, clean sound of The Cure (really, find your late 70’s/early 80’s Cure albums, and listen for yourself), especially because of Barlow’s clearly audible bass (often sounding like a rudimentary version of Mike Watt) and the simple guitar melody. It’s a lovely track, fragile and melancholic, that’ll immediately catch your attention, and keep it for five minutes. Other tracks worth pointing out are the quite similar “The Leper,” which is a bit noisier, but combines the same world-weary atmosphere and lyrics (“Embarrassed to be alive, sit with my life open wide, your stare is forcing my face open, a leper crumbling, never joking, who should I believe) and some ragged soloing; and “Cats in a Bowl” (again sung by Barlow), which sounds like a foot-to-the-floor country-punk tune from Meat Puppets II. The last track I consider at least decent is “Repulsion,” the only one from this set picked for their compilation Ear-Bleeding Country (2001). The remainder of the album ranges from merely decent (“Severed Lips”), to unremarkable tracks that come dangerously near ‘boring’ (“Gargoyle,” “Quest”), to downright bad stuff, like “Does It Float,” a jangly rocker which suddenly transforms into abrasive hardcore punk; and “Pointless,” which sounds like seventh-rate goth-rock. One that sets off promising, is “Mountain Man,” with it’s macho metal riffing, but then the vocals sound like Kim Gordon’s wailing and turn it into a bad parody. Your typical uneven debut album (see also: Bleach), Dinosaur finds the band churning out a few keepers, and a majority of sub-par stuff. So maybe it’s not that surprising it’s hard to find these days. If you’re into the sex appeal of the early Mascis, feel free to purchase it, but I warned you. It doesn’t even come close to their next one. |
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You're Living All Over Me ( 1987 )
Little Fury Things / Kracked / Sludgefeast / The Lung / Raisans / Tarpit / In a Jar / Lose / Poledo / Show Me the Way I don’t know what exactly happened between the releases of their debut and this sophomore release, but it’s a fact that this album easily eclipses the previous one. Not only are the songs much better, the playing is much more impressive, and the album much more coherent. However, I don’t think You’re Living All Over Me is more accessible than Dinosaur. On the contrary: this album takes noisy guitar antics several levels further than on the debut. The guitars (plural form since we’re dealing with several layers) aren’t always heavy, but they’re consistently loud and distorted. There’s no ‘clean’ playing to be found on this release, and I even don’t know how he produced this particular guitar sound. I guess it’s a combination of distortion pedals, fuzz, wah-wah, feedback and playing ridiculously loud. On top of this, most of the songs also have an often heavily distorted bass and loads of guitar solos, but not the Hank Marvin-type. No, imagine a combination of Neil Young (the melancholy), Jimi Hendrix (virtuosity), an idiot (whatever), and apocalyptic caterwauling (yes, that sounds weird, but so does this album if you’re mainly used to your slick, average MTV-rock). The style itself is as hard to describe: somewhere between hard rock, punk, folk rock and acid rock. Let’s just call it gravely lo-fi alternative guitar-oriented rock, so that everybody understands what I’m talking about. These guys came almost out of nowhere, created their own brand of noise rock and influenced legions of bands (some of which were based around Seattle) in the process. |
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“Little Fury Things” was also released as a single I think, and rightly so, since it’s - despite the over the top-intro - a great song that has quite accessible verses and great overall melodies. On the other hand, you might as well detest it, since Mascis still can’t sing, and has a horribly slack articulation (and what exactly is he saying? “A rabbit falls away from me, I guess I’ll fall”?). Equally impressive is the fittingly titled “Sludgefeast,” which has an awkward structure, but also some of the most thrilling guitar parts on the album, listen for example to the way the silent section after the first verses switches over to the howling guitar solo, or the pseudo-metal riffing and solo after that cacophony near the end of the song. One that’s often considered the weakest cut, but a keeper in my book, is Barlow’s intensely melancholic “Lose,” which raises a massive storm and constantly borders on the verge of a breakdown. Elsewhere, the band covers more familiar and digestible folk rock material: “Kracked,” for instance, has a catchy guitar melody, quite accessible verses (“Come on baaaaaabe!”), but of course the hit potential is immediately ruined by another guitar freak-out. Another track that also begs to be mentioned is “Raisans,” which has an atmosphere that would make Dinosaur Sr. feel proud of his decibel-addicted nephews. Closer to country-punk territory are “The Lung,” which would have fitted perfectly on, say, on 80’s version of Everybody Knows This Is Nowhere, and the even better “In a Jar” that is dominated by Barlow’s melodic bass playing. The album’s only letdown is Barlow’s closing track “Poledo,” a solo effort recorded on “2 crappy tape recorders.” While the first one and a half minute are really creepy, Lou strumming some repetitive chords while mumbling some semi-exorcising lyrics (“Hope I die without a sound”) that sound as if he’s taking part in some satanic cult ritual. Anyway, after the intro the fun is over and we’re left with four more minutes of messy noise experimentation. The closest thing resembling You’re Living Over Me’s small-scale sonic revolution is (in my opinion) Hüsker Dü’s sprawling Zen Arcade, which also united exceedingly loud guitars and sheer abrasiveness on the one hand, and an overshadowed sense of morose melody on the other hand. A landmark album in late 80’s indie rock, this album is one to treasure (and, if necessary, to use as an antidote for the generic bands it triggered) for many years.Note: most available editions have a track that was added to the original 9-song album. It’s an hilarious cover version of Peter Frampton’s “Show Me the Way” in which Mascis takes bad singing to higher levels (dangerously near Yoko Ono-territory), but somehow it’s also charming and something ole Pete probably wouldn’t approve of. Serves him right. |
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Bug ( 1988 )
Freak Scene / No Bones / They Always Come / Yeah We Know / Let It Ride / Pond Song / Budge / The Post / Don’t A mere year after the release of You’re Living All Over Me, J “Big Muff” Mascis, Lou Barlow and Patrick Murphy resurface with what many consider to be their finest hour. Bug doesn’t deliver the blistering sonic assault the previous album had, but it’s no slouch either, and it makes up for this by turning in a batch of songs that’s perhaps even more varied and consistent. It’s just that the surprise-factor isn’t there anymore. And there’s also (again) an ear-deafening piece of anti-music (“Don’t”), of course. But above all, it’s of course better known as “the album that has “Freak Scene,” the quintessential Dinosaur Jr. song, and one of the highlights of late 80’s indie rock.” It’s indeed a great song that’s not only blessed with an unforgettable melody, but it also succeeds in blending together the band’s several influences (folk, hard rock, punk, etc) into a highly original fuzzy mash. Mascis’ guitar introduces itself cleanly at the start of the song, stutters more muscular in a bridge section, is temporarily replaced by acoustic strumming, and finally explodes during the wailing, screeching and two utterly great solos that sound both familiar and entirely fresh. Combined with the simple yet effective lyrics, it succeeds in capturing a rare essence, hereby turning itself into a universal tale of hope and disappointments, hostility and friendship: “Sometimes I don’t thrill you, sometimes I think I’ll kill you, just don’t let me fuck up will you, ‘cause when I need a friend, it’s still you.” |
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Although “Freak Scene” is the undeniable highlight of
the album, several other songs could be considered alternative classics
as well. “They Always Come,” for instance, with its punchy
start/stop-dynamics, ringing percussion and grand soloing comes close
to the raw perfection of “Freak Scene.” A galloping rhythm
introduces “Yeah We Know,” in which Murph’s busy drumming
also earns a seat in the spotlights. Like Mascis, Murph isn’t
the most conventional or impeccable stylist of musicians, but his unstoppable
drive and knack for coming up with less obvious rhythms and fills make
him the ideal sideman. Bug has a few more quiet moments than
You’re Living All Over Me, with three out of nine songs
that could qualify as folk-rock. The first one, “No Bones”
isn’t that far a cry from mid-80’s jangle rock, but Barlow’s
thick bass sound and Mascis’ sudden riffs and subsequent solo
make it out of step with the rest of ‘em, of course. That the
band does not wish to infuse each track with deafening guitar sounds
is proven by the inclusion of the near-cute “Pond Song”
that nevertheless boasts some steady drumming, an electric/acoustic
chorus and some wistful lyrics. Make no mistake: elsewhere the band
still creates a delightful racket, during the speedy “Let It Ride,”
for instance, or during “Budge.” Both songs feature a tight
and straightforward tempo, but make detours in the land of J, where
melancholic and lasting melodies often reveal their secrets only after
many listens. It’s this combination of apparent nonchalance and
reliance on often unsettling layers of noisy guitar sounds on the hand,
and the presence of underlying melodies on the other hand, that makes
the band’s stuff that intriguing. In a way, the band shares it
with other seminal alternative bands Hüsker Dü and Nirvana,
but whereas Mould and Hart extrapolated their punk and psychedelic influences,
and Cobain covered up his tendency to write pop songs in a classic vein
with loads of angsty decibels, Mascis exploits the sonic possibilities
of his distortion pedals to obstruct the transparent quality of his
folksy melodies. Note: shortly after the release of Bug, Mascis kicked Barlow out of the band, allegedly because he talked too much. Fortunately, Barlow couldn’t be bothered by his own talking, and he made a name for himself as one of lo-fi’s prime representatives, with several projects (Sentridoh, Sebadoh, The Folk Implosion). |
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Fossils ( 1991 )
Little Fury Things / In a Jar / Show Me the Way / Freak Scene / Keep the Glove / Just Like Heaven / Throw Down / Chunks A ridiculously short (not even 23 minutes) SST-compilation, containing three singles (“Little Fury Things,” “Freak Scene” and “Just Like Heaven”) and their respective B-sides, Fossils’ surplus value is in the inclusion of that third single. “Little Fury Things” and its B-sides, the rootsy “In a Jar” and an excellent cover of Frampton’s “Show Me the Way” were already available on You’re Living All Over Me, while “Freak Scene” gloriously kicked off Bug. “Keep the Glove” is a folksy jangle track that’s decent, but rather unremarkable. Their take on The Cure’s “Just Like Heaven” is great though, and not that peculiar a choice, as traces of The Cure and similar bands were traceable in Dinosaur Jr.’s early sound. Fairly faithful to the original version in the beginning, Mascis whining vocals and a trademark raggedy solo turn it into a deliciously ‘different’ version. Those sudden bursts of noise are annoying though. “Throw Down” is less impressive: just 45 seconds of semi-acoustic filler. Finally, “Chunks” is a cover of a song by Last Rights, and early 80’s hardcore punk band hailing from Boston, only remembered because their singer founded straight-edge band Slapshot. The song has hardly understandable screamed vocals and a simple structure, yet it’s also an effective and very brutal slab of undiluted fury. Fossils is a bit meagre for a compilation (it couldn’t’ve been that hard to come up with a few extra songs, right?), but at least half of the tracks is of stellar quality. |
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Green Mind ( 1991 )
The Wagon / Puke + Cry / Blowing It / I Live for That Look / Flying Cloud / How’d You Pin That One on Me / Water / Muck / Thumb / Green Mind Basically a one-man project, Green Mind was written, performed and produced by J Mascis (Murph plays drums on just three tracks). In my opinion, this is also the first Dinosaur Jr.-album with a second half that actually overshadows the first, despite “The Wagon,” which, like “Little Fury Things” and “Freak Scene” before it, is a breath-taking opening track that combines all the elements that made the band extraordinary in the first place (see: previous reviews). However, its sound is also an indication of the rest of the album (and the albums that would follow it): cleaner and clearer, with its poppy melody right on the surface – and those backing vocals help as well, of course – which makes it by consequence a lot more accessible. Of course some “fans” were yelling “SELLOUT”, but those who were smart enough to dig further knew that Mascis basically still did the same, with the biggest difference being the approach. Instead of using layers of loud guitar sounds, one noisier than the other, acoustic guitars are much more prominent, and quite surprisingly, several songs sound gentle – even dreamy – to Mascis’ standards. The other album highlight for instance, and unquestionably one of my favourite Dinosaur Jr. songs, “Water,” displays an as yet unseen fragility and melancholy that is not forced upon you by threatening feedback or screaming distortion. |
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“Puke + Cry” is a small acoustic triumph, where the vocals constitute the multi-layered elements. Less impressive on the first half are “Blowing It” and the shortish “I Live for That Look”: not that they are bad or anything, they’re just a bit slight compared to the other tracks gathered here. “Flying Cloud” also seems a bit directionless, initially consisting only of acoustic guitars and Mascis’ shivering voice (what happened to him right before he recorded this?), it never really expands into something new, despite the aura of mystique it oozes out. Better are the songs on the second half of the album: “How’d You Pin That One on Me,” a driven rocker that is basically about one thing: the solo. Starting after 3 minutes and 10 seconds, and lasting a mere 40 seconds, it’s as blistering and awe-inspiring as any solo Mascis recorded before, and the moment when he sets it in is perhaps the album’s best moment. Green Mind’s accessibility and conventionality can be further exemplified by “Muck” and the album closer: While the latter (the title track) is a terrific stab at mainstream rock (just listen to that ringing chorus and try to prove me wrong), the former has Mascis playing – ugh – soulful guitar parts. Finally, the album’s second-most popular song needs to be mentioned. “Thumb” indeed has a great laidback melody, damn fine soloing, and really benefits from the prominent mellotron, but if there’s one aspect that is really annoying about this track, then it’s the fake-sounding drum sound. Several of the other songs have a drum sound that’s a bit overwhelming, but during the soberly arranged “Thumb” it becomes just too much. It doesn’t necessarily ruin the song, but that loud processed sound definitely creates a clash with the almost pastoral atmosphere of the album. I also miss Barlow’s rumbling but melodic bass, which has been minimized a bit in favour of more vocal and guitar layers. But, I really gotta say that I consider Green Mind perhaps the most underrated of all Dinosaur Jr. albums, as it contains a fair share of excellent songs (two of which I absolutely adore), generally excellent performances (Mascis can play, despite his reckless sloppiness) and textures/shades we hadn’t seen before, and that’s a good thing, right? RIGHT? |
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Whatever's Cool with Me ( 1991 )
Whatever’s Cool with Me / Sideways / Not You Again / The Little Baby / Pebbles + Weeds / Quicksand / Thumb / Keep the Glove A lengthy EP, Whatever’s Cool with Me contains the original single and it’s three B-sides, plus also a few songs that were previously only available on a European 12”-version of “The Wagon.” More importantly however, it also features the first bass playing by Mike Johnson, who’d stay Mascis’ sidekick during the next years. As for the songs: the title track is a fine rocker that can’t hold a candle to most earlier singles, but it’s definitely a worthy contender. The original B-sides originally were “Sideways,” which starts on a silent note with just some acoustic strumming and then develops into a song that would have fit on Green Mind, and live versions of “Thumb” and “Keep the Glove.” Especially the first one is worth checking out, and it’s good to see the songs also worked in a noisier live context. J’s vocals are pretty mediocre (as they always were), but the guitar playing is excellent, and Mascis provides a terrific lengthy and messy solo. “Keep the Glove” (formerly a B-side of the “Freak Scene” single) sounds better on stage than in the studio, but those harmonies of Mascis of Johnson easily qualify as aural torture. The songs in between were recorded entirely by Mascis and succeed in displaying the variety of Dinosaur’s influences and capabilities: “Not You Again” is an accessible pop gem with a scorching solo, “The Little Baby” stresses the noisier side of the band, with heavy rumbling bass and screamed vocals, while “Pebbles and Weeds” is a messy rocker with growling vocals and lots of feedback and distortion. |
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Finally, Mascis also does an acoustic cover of David Bowie’s “Quicksand” (from Hunky Dory). Apparently a bit of an awkward choice, his version is simply terrific, despite the fact that he thoroughly changed the lyrics and only kept fragments of the verses intact. But the weariness (“Don’t believe in yourself, don’t deceive with belief, knowledge comes with death’s release”) of the original is kept and it fits Mascis so well it sounds like a self-penned triumph. Whatever’s Cool with Me isn’t essential by any means, but it gives quite a complete image of the band at that certain time, and for that reason alone it’s worth checking out. Unless you only dig Swedish black metal, that is. |
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